The Masters of Falcon's Fantasies [BDSM Menage Fantasies 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (12 page)

“Yes, I understand that.” Allie bent her head and sighed. “I’ll try to find something about Daphne that I like.”

His voice became gentle again. “Is it jealousy?”

Heat suffused Allie’s face
,
and her fists clenched involuntarily. She didn’t trust herself to speak for a minute.

Karl pulled her to her knees and encased her in his arms again. “Babe, you don’t need to be jealous of her. Who cares if she’s skinny? Contrary to popular belief, that’s not a requirement of being beautiful.”

Allie let out a half
sob, half laugh. “Next you’re going to tell me that I’m pretty on the inside.”

He swatted her ass, hard. “I could say that, yes. But you also happen to be beautiful on the outside. Have you not seen the dozens of pictures of you around the house? Have you not noticed how people at the club stare at you? Have you never looked in a mirror?”

“You’re just saying that. All guys say that to their girlfriends.”

He stiffened
,
and Allie knew that she’d gone too far. “Are you fishing for compliments or a spanking?” he asked after a moment, pushing her back so she had to look into his face.

“Um, I don’t know. Sir. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and stood up. “I am not going to answer that. Your attitude toward Daphne is not what I expect from my slave. If you’re jealous of her, then you’d better learn to deal with it. There is always going to be somebody that you think is prettier or smarter or thinner than you are. It’s a human condition
,
and it doesn’t mean that they are better than you. It just means you’re insecure. If you don’t like her personality, then you need to learn to fake it. We’re a bed-and-breakfast. We can’t turn people away if you don’t like them.”

Embarrassed, Allie muttered, “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be nicer.”

He helped her to her feet, took her face in his hands
,
and kissed her. “I know you will. Try to imagine if people hated you for being thin or pretty or talented, or for having a coffee table book filled with sexy pictures of you. People expect a lot from Daphne, and she’s under a lot of pressure. Be compassionate.”

He turned her and gave her a small shove. “Now, go make me something special for breakfast, wench.”

Allie went downstairs slowly. She knew that many women would be offended by being called “wench,” or even “slut,” but she liked it. It was as if he was saying the exact opposite of what he meant. The fact that he pretended to look down on her meant that he didn’t
.
Feeling cheerful again, she pushed open the door to the kitchen, mentally going through the ingredients she had on hand. She had plenty of time to make something really unique—

Her first impression was that there had been an explosion of some kind. Every surface was covered in a white substance that it took Allie a moment to identify as flour. Smoke hung in the air, and the oven door stood open. The countertops were littered with bags, bowls
,
and dishes, and the floor resembled the gory yard of Allie’s dream, but with sticky whiteness instead of blood.

“What the—” Allie rushed into the room, half-consciously heading toward the wall phone to call the authorities.

She almost tripped over the figure huddled on the floor next to the oven. It was also mostly covered in flour, so that the jet
-
black hair appeared pale gray. When Allie’s panic had subsided a bit, she recognized Daphne, moaning and cradling a pan of something that looked charred and lethal in her lap.

“Daphne! Are you—” For a panicked moment, Allie was convinced that Daphne was in the middle of an overdose. Part of her brain wondered what an overdose could possibly have to do with a kitchen filled with flour and smoke (although smoke kind of made sense). But she couldn’t spend any time contemplating silly questions. She dropped to her knees in front of the other woman and tried to get a view of her pupils. She wasn’t completely sure what you could tell by that, but they always did it on television.

“Why am I such a pathetic loser?” Sobbing, Daphne shoved the pan away from her with a sharp movement that sent it clattering into a cupboard. Black gobs of something sprayed across the floor.

That seemed to snap Daphne out of her emotional frenzy. She stared at the mess and took a long, shuddering breath. Then she looked around the room, her eyes wide and tragic. Allie half expected her to whimper, “Did I do that?”

Instead she drew up her knees and laid her head on top of them, covering it with her arms. Her voice was muffled and still sounded full of tears. “I’m sorry, Allie. I can’t do anything right. I don’t blame you for hating me.”

Allie stared at her in amazement. Daphne had an inferiority complex? That was impossible. But then she thought about some of the models she’d known in the past, and how many of them had extremely low self-esteem. Yes, it wasn’t only possible. It was actually very likely. It would explain a lot.

She scooted over so that she was sitting next to Daphne on the floor and put an arm around her. There was an almost imperceptible shaking. Daphne was trying hard but unsuccessfully to control her emotions.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Allie put just a touch of sharpness into her voice. Enough to get Daphne’s attention, but not enough to sound mean or impatient. “You’re the best singer and dancer I’ve ever seen. I don’t know anybody who can do the kinds of things you can. I’ve heard your songs, too. I never knew you wrote them until Finn told me. You have an incredible talent.”

There was a mumble that sounded like, “Thanks.”

“And for your information, I don’t hate you.”

“Really?” After a minute the shaking subsided and Daphne’s tearstained face turned to Allie. “Can I ask you a question, then?”

“Of course.”

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“You know, the BDSM stuff. Being submissive. Being—what did you call it, the having
-
two
-
men thing?”

“Polyamory. It can be hard. Well, they can all be hard. BDSM, submission, poly. They’re all tricky at times. You have to have a lot of communication and not be afraid to say what you want or be afraid to hear what your partners need.”

Daphne smiled a little
,
and Allie felt relieved. “When it’s good, there’s nothing like it. The D/s can really intensify the connection in a relationship. If you’ve negotiated well, everybody’s automatically getting what they want so they can concentrate on their partners. You don’t have to nag or play games. It’s all on the table to begin with.”

“That sounds really nice. But I don’t think he’d go for it.”

“He? Who?”

Daphne gave her a sheepish glance. “Finn. Of course, I don’t think he wants me, anyway. Other than to make money for him. So I guess it really doesn’t matter.” She began to pull herself to her feet, looking around again in despair. “Your kitchen is a wreck. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. I was trying to impress you by cooking breakfast.”

Allie got up
,
too, starting to ask about Finn when the rest of Daphne’s statement sank in. Trying to hide her shock, she forced herself to laugh lightly as she picked up the pan on the floor and most of the black chunks that surrounded it. “Why would you want to impress me, anyway?”

“Like I said earlier, I get the feeling you don’t like me very much,” Daphne said, beginning to run water into a stack that seemed to include every saucepan, skillet
,
and spoon that Allie owned.

Allie hesitated. Daphne certainly did tend to speak her mind, and she had to respect that. She wasn’t sure if she could be as blunt in return. But there was a candid quality to the girl that implied she wouldn’t be offended by the truth. It was worth a try. She took a deep breath.

“No. I admit there have been days when I haven’t liked you very much. You seem to play people
,
and I really don’t care for that. I’m never sure if you’re laughing at the rest of us or not.”

Daphne stared at her. “Laughing at you? Seriously? How could you think that? You guys are great! When I watched you at the club the other night, the only thing I could think of was how cool it would be to switch places with you. Why do you think I’ve been so
neurotic
? I think this place, and you three, are awesome. I’ve been trying—I don’t know what I’ve been trying to do. But it sure as hell hasn’t been succeeding.”

They heard the roar of a motorcycle then. Allie frowned at it, then turned to Daphne. “What about him?”

They both looked up as Blaze came crashing through the back door. His eyes were red, his hair stuck up in all directions, and he looked as if he wanted to kill someone. Allie forced herself not to take a step backward when his gaze fell on her and a sneer formed on his lips.

“Blaze, what the hell have you been doing?” Daphne turned toward him, hands on her hips.

“Drinking.” His voice was slurred
,
and he seemed to have trouble focusing on her.

“No shit. Where’s your vest?”

He looked blearily down at his torn and filthy
T
-shirt and shrugged. “Dunno. Oh, yeah. I was playing poker. Guess I lost it.”

Daphne let out a snort and looked at the ceiling in exasperation. “Go to bed. I’ll come and drag you out of it for rehearsal at noon. We should be able to get by without you until then.”

Blaze grabbed for Daphne’s arm
,
saying, “You’re coming
,
too, then.”

Surprising even herself, Allie stepped forward and slapped her hand against the outside of Blaze’s arm, pushing it away from Daphne. Blaze stumbled, then righted himself with an unsteady hand on the counter. Glaring, he shouted, “What the fuck! I’m going to—”

“Not in my house, you’re not.” Allie cut him off. “Now get to bed before you wind up with another bloody nose, or worse. If you ever try to lay a hand on a woman in this house again you’ll be out on your ass before you know what’s happening.”

Blaze stared at her, panting, his hands clenching into fists. Allie stood her ground, trying to ignore the horrible smell of alcohol coming off him as he opened his mouth to say something. Suddenly, he closed it again and stalked from the room, his comeback left unsaid.

Silence hung thickly for a few seconds before Daphne finally broke it. “Holy shit! Who knew you were such a badass on top of everything else? Where did you learn to do that?”

Allie became aware that her hands were starting to tremble. She looked down at them with a shaky laugh. “I have no idea. Probably from a self
-
defense class I took in college.”

“Well, thank you.” Daphne’s voice was subdued as she stared after Blaze. Then she stepped forward and threw her arms around Allie, pulling her into a tight hug.

After a startled moment, Allie squeezed her back. “No problem. I refuse to let thugs like him treat my guests—my friends—that way. But I certainly don’t feel very badass right now.”

They released each other and stepped back, a little awkwardly. Daphne turned to the sink and began vigorously scrubbing a pan.

Allie found a rag and began cleaning the counters and floor. After a moment she decided that the time was probably right for a more serious talk. “Why do you let him drag you into all the self-destructive shit you’ve been doing?” She bit her lip, hoping Daphne wouldn’t take her question as too offensive or presumptuous.

Daphne shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just always seemed like the thing to do. If you’re going to be in a rock band, you might as well live the lifestyle, right? And Blaze is the one who taught me how to do that. For a long time I thought he was the only one that really cared about me. I’m not sure that isn’t actually true.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? What about Finn? You don’t think he cares about you?” Allie tossed a small white mountain into the garbage, amazed at how much flour Daphne had managed to distribute around the room. “What were you trying to make, anyway?”

Daphne gave a semi-hysterical giggle as she scrubbed at a pan. “I wasn’t really sure. I was going to try a recipe for brownies, but I didn’t know what they meant by sifting the flour. Then I started to make pancakes, but I didn’t know what you cooked them on. I was up most of the night trying to find a recipe I could understand. Sorry about the cookbooks. I’ll buy you new ones if those are ruined. And no.”

Allie was inspecting the books. She sighed and tried to put a reassuring smile on her face, hoping she didn’t look horrified at the state of her new treasures. “I would have had them looking like this in a week or so anyway. What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean no, I don’t think Finn cares about me. Enough, maybe, to stick it out until he can make a good reputation for himself as a manager. Then he’ll go look for someone who’s easier to deal with.”

“But you care about him. You said so,” Allie said, trying to recall Daphne’s exact words. “Why don’t
you
become easier to deal with?”

“I don’t know.” Daphne sighed. “I think I just like to mess with him to get a reaction. He’s so stuffy sometimes. I like to see him get flustered. It’s like the only way I have of getting him to be human, instead of this efficient, professional robot. I hate that robot.”