Game On (The Morgan Brothers Book 4) (3 page)

“Okay, so I feel like I have a better grasp on what makes her tick, but that doesn’t mean I understand this.” He waved the sheaf of papers he still held in his hand. After his conference call with Nate and Taz last night, they’d reluctantly sent him a copy of the portions of her application a Dom interested in a particular submissive would have access to.

Everything had been fairly standard until he’d gotten to the fantasy portion. Mitch wasn’t thrilled with how little she’d listed on her limit list, but he chalked it up to inexperience. But her narrative writing describing her fantasy had blown his mind. He’d been driving to the ranch and used a text to speech app so he could listen to the short story while driving, but it hadn’t taken long for him to see some of the language was beyond the sweet voice of the program. It hadn’t actually mattered because he’d heard enough to make him almost drive off the road more than once. Hell, he’d listened to it twice before he’d forwarded the document to Phoenix.

Nate had incorporated the free-write section in the club’s application hoping it would serve as a window into the mind of the sub. From what Mitch understood, his
experiment
was turning out to be a valuable tool. If Aspen’s biography and fantasy were anything to go by, he could certainly understand how useful the short essays could be. Damn, the thing was a window directly into her soul. It was loaded with information, a lot of which Mitch doubted she’d intended to share. Underneath the soldier turned agent, was a little girl who’s only real experience with love and acceptance had been with the three young men who’d taken her under their wing when she was still in grade school.

The night Aspen was shot in St. Maarten, Kent West found Mitch standing outside the clinic’s back door. He hadn’t prayed in more years than he could remember, but that night had been the exception. He’d been so relieved to learn she’d pulled through surgery he’d slipped outside to send up a prayer of thanks to a God he wasn’t sure even remembered his name. Kent slid into the shadows with him and added his own prayer of thanks for the woman he’d called a friend since they’d been kids.

Kent’s voice had drifted over the warm, moist night air, “I’ll never forget the first time I saw Aspen. She was wearing a pink dress with what looked like an apron, our mom told us later it was called a pinafore—whatever the hell that is. Anyway, she was standing against the fence watching the other kids play. She was so damned skinny and despite her fancy dress and shiny patent leather shoes it was easy to see nobody really cared about being her friend—the lost look in her eyes made me sad.”

Mitch heard the melancholy in Kent’s voice and wondered how bad it had been for the former Navy SEAL to still feel so strongly about something that had happened more than two decades earlier. “I got Kyle and Jax, and the three of us went over to talk to her. We weren’t too much older, but we were already a lot bigger than she was. I can still remember the terrified look on her face as we walked toward her. Years later, she told us she almost peed her pants she’d been so scared when she realized we were walking toward her.” Kent’s soft chuckle eased some of Mitch’s tension, and the rest of his story had been a lesson in a level of compassion rare among young kids.

“From that day forward, everybody in the school knew she was our friend. They treated her with respect, or they answered to us. When she figured out we’d be changing schools a year ahead of her, she studied hard enough to be advanced a grade. Her military records confirm what the three of us already knew, the woman is a fucking genius. Uncle Sam screwed up when he didn’t send her directly into military intelligence, she’s a natural military analyst. She can identify strategic and tactical strengths and weaknesses at a glance. The amazing part is it appears to be an innate skill—but all that aside, she’d have been miserable stuck in some underground think tank.”

Mitch shook his head at the memory, recounting the experience made him feel like a fool for not putting two and two together. Looking at Phoenix, Mitch shrugged. “Anyway, in hindsight, I probably should have zeroed in on Aspen as Athena—and I know Kent is kicking himself for not thinking of her. Hell, you and I didn’t make any attempt to keep our search a secret, yet none of us put it together. Not exactly our best work.” Mitch couldn’t hold back his chuckle at the irony. Their team was renowned for their instincts and ability to piece together seemingly disconnected fragments of information, but they’d all missed this one.

“Sometimes it’s hard to see an answer when the evidence drifts in slowly. I’m just grateful we finally know who we’re dealing with, and I’m relieved we haven’t been chasing some fifty-year-old unemployed guy living in his mother’s basement.” Phoenix shuddered, making the papers he was holding rattle. When Mitch chuckled at his revulsion, Phoenix shook his head. “I’m serious man, you have no idea how many times
that
particular scenario played out in my mind. Fucking terrifying.” Mitch wasn’t going to admit how many times he’d worried about the same thing.

“Understood. But now we need to focus on what we’re going to do about Athena’s fantasy. According to my sources, she’s on her way to Montana as we speak.” Mitch paused, because there was one particular element in Aspen’s fantasy that continued to come to the forefront each time he read it. “There are a hundred points I believe have come from the deepest parts of her soul, but there is one I find myself coming back to time and time again.”

“Two masters?” Mitch nodded at Phoenix’s inquiry. “I agree; the entire story is a walk through her deepest desires. It’s a psychoanalyst’s dream come true.” Mitch watched Phoenix attempt to smooth the edges of the papers he’d crinkled while reading her fantasy. “And she obviously plans on spending some time at Mountain Mastery or she wouldn’t have applied for membership. We need to talk to Nate as soon as possible.” Phoenix already had a plan in mind, he was just waiting to see if Mitch was thinking along the same lines. “I think she deserves a proper Montana welcome. The sky isn’t the only thing big here, we’re known for being very
accommodating
as well.”

This time, Mitch laughed out loud. “Well now, if that’s the case, let’s see what we can do about making sure Aspen aka Athena understands just how committed we are to making sure her dreams come true.”

My Fantasy

A
fter my parents
had died, I was forced to grow up too fast. I had to move away from my three best friends. They’d been my sole support system for years, and the only way I knew to cope was to create a fantasy world in my mind. In my imagination, I became a fearless warrior who battled evil wherever I found it. And most important, my new alter ego didn’t have to worry about being taken advantage of when she found herself at home with one of the male relatives who’d been charged with Aspen’s care.

When the men of the house figured out they’d only be getting a small stipend, without the unlimited access to my trust fund they’d expected, they quickly decided there were other ways for me to pay for their hospitality. I didn’t dare tell my friends…I knew full well what they’d do, and I didn’t want their futures jeopardized coming to my defense.

My warrior-self became a champion of other victims. She protected them, she nurtured them, and in the process, she learned to read the enemy with an almost other-worldly accuracy. But there was always a part of her wishing for two special men who would take her…protect her as she’d done for so many others. They’d earn the submission they had originally demanded, and the great Athena would give it willingly in the end.

During a fierce battle, she’d be captured and become a spoil of war. The common soldiers would cast lots for the right to claim the great Athena. The Greek goddess of war strategy would finally be powerless over her own fate. What follows is Athena’s personal account of her capture and how her captors became her saviors.

I’ve run out
of places to hide. The enemy has me cornered in one of the smaller areas of the palace. The servants call this space the war room because it’s where I meet with military leaders. It isn’t overly large, but it’s never needed to be. I’ve always had a clear vision of where the battles would take place and how they would play out, making it easy to direct my army. But this time, I’ve misjudged things and underestimated my enemies. I know it’s only a matter of time before they storm through the doors and lead me out of my home in chains. One small miscalculation was all it took…my demise far too easy for those who now yearn to make an example of me.

Despite the warm weather, I don layers of clothing hoping the soldiers who pull me from the palace won’t rip all the garments from me. I don’t want to be paraded through the streets naked. Humiliation will be more punishment than I can bear…I experienced too much of it as a child. I’m not afraid of pain, but humiliation is beyond my endurance. The servants are hiding in the lower levels of the palace where they are safe. But, I know the soldiers will have no interest in them. I am their prize.

The palace is grand, fit for a goddess, but it isn’t filled with things. I’ve always preferred sharing wealth rather than accumulating objects. There will be little for the soldiers to steal and that will only serve to further enrage them. Now that I consider their reaction, I wish I’d added another layer of clothing as they’re sure to be angrier than I’d originally assumed.

I hear the shouts of triumph as soon as they burst through the front door directly below where I’m hiding. Their voices become louder as they come thundering up the stairs. It won’t be long now, my freedom is fleeting, it feels much like the final grains of sand draining from the hourglass. When the door splinters, the first thing I notice is the stench. The men who grasp my upper arms are drenched in sweat and reek of days spent fighting without the benefit of bathing. I fight the urge to gag, the stench makes my stomach roll.

My mind shuts down; their taunts fall on deaf ears. I’m not listening as they pummel me with questions, nor am I concerned when they shred the top layers of clothing I’m using as a soldier would a shield. I’m blindfolded before being pulled toward the stairs, but my feet can’t gain purchase, and I stumble, which angers them even more.

The irony of being yelled at for stumbling over stone steps I cannot see isn’t lost on me. Their grip on my arms tightens, even more, becoming so painful I realize I’m becoming dizzy from holding my breath. I know they are marking me in ways I’ll feel and see in the days to come, but my body and mind are functioning on different levels allowing me to finally find the strength to push aside the pain.

Before they cross the threshold of the front door, a sharp voice from behind us halts their progress. No one moves for long seconds, and then I feel it…the unmistakable movement of air so close I can feel the difference in energy. “You’re marking what is ours. You were told not to hurt her.” The men holding me react immediately to the newcomer’s growled words by loosening their grip and I nearly sag to the floor. By some miracle, my knees don’t fold, and I’m glad because I suddenly realize my hands have gone numb from their brutal grip, and I wouldn’t have had any defense against the fall.

I am unsteady on my feet, weaving precariously from side-to-side. Before I can reach out to steady myself, strong arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me against a rock-hard chest. But there is no malice in this man’s touch, just a quiet strength holding me upright. Warm breath brushes over the side of my neck making me shiver despite the fact I’m sweltering beneath all the clothing. “A goddess indeed. Stunning despite the armor she wears.” Another man’s soft laughter is so close in front of me I fear taking a deep breath because I’m sure my breasts will brush against him simply by raising from the inhalation.

“Using the extra layers to prevent being dragged naked through the streets, Athena?”

“Yes.” There is no reason to lie, I know my body will give me away if I try. Something deep inside me is responding to these men, but I don’t understand why. I feel lost, adrift, and it’s unnerving.

“You didn’t try to lie to us, I am pleased. Your honesty will be rewarded later. First, we need to strip off these extra layers, we won’t allow you to hide beneath them. And you’re far too hot, love.” His rich voice resonates to the depths of my soul igniting feelings I’m struggling to understand. They are unfamiliar, and I’m not yet comfortable feeling my body respond in such ways. Reminding myself the men surrounding me aren’t interested in what is best for me is difficult when my blood is pooling between my legs making my entire body throb with need.

They waste no time stripping me down to the soft peplos covering my linen undergarments. Their hands stilling when there was little between their touch and my bare skin. I know they plan to claim my body just as they will claim victory in this battle, but I also know losing one battle does not mean I’ve lost the war.

It’s difficult for me to concentrate as everything around me begins to shift and the historical elements that surround me begin to recede. In seconds, the past has faded, and I’m standing in the middle of a small stage, a soft spotlight shining down making the white linen shift I’m wearing all but disappear. I’m no longer blindfolded, but the light makes it impossible for me to see clearly beyond a couple of feet in front of me.