The collar is a comfortable fit, snug without being too tight.
With the key in his hand, he goes to his nightstand again, opens the drawer, pulls out a thin men’s neck chain and strings the key onto it. Then he puts it around his neck, hanging it between the opening in his cut. The key rests between his powerful chest muscles, gleaming in the fading sunlight.
“You won’t be able to take that thing off now,” he says, stroking the collar with his fingers, his eyes burning with satisfaction. “Only I can remove it.”
How is this so hot?
“Is that it now?” I ask, hating the way my voice shakes beneath my anger. “Are you done?”
“Nope. One more thing.”
I sigh, dread mounting.
Out of the bag, he pulls another long, thin chain, only this one has a clip on one end and a black leather loop on the other. My stomach drops horribly.
It’s a leash.
Again.
My insides squirm with renewed shame, helplessness choking me. “You’re so lucky I don’t know how to shoot a gun.”
His eyes widen and he snorts, looking somewhere between surprised, turned on, and amused. He clips the leash onto the loop of the collar and then touches me under the chin.
“My sexy little Wildcat. Now I see what Gary must have seen when you stood up to him. I can’t wait to show you off. Let everyone see you like this.”
With a tug on the collar, he heads for the door. “Come on. Let’s get this show on the road.”
So this is really happening. Tamping down the useless urge to fight him, I make myself follow him into the hall and stand there while he locks his door.
Not for the first time, I can’t help feeling as if I’ve stepped into a world that is so far beyond me, I hardly know how to react. I’ve been in said world for the better part of two months, and while at times I’ve become used to it, Spider always seems to find some way to snap me back into fish out of water mode, never letting me settle into its rhythm for long. This is a dirty world, a dangerous one, and he is my ruler, an unwanted anchor I have no choice but to cling to, and whose rules I have no choice but to obey.
In the hall, men pass us, staring at me with wide eyes and smirks. Silent, Spider nods to them and leads me by the collar down the hall toward the barroom.
My heart plummets. By the sounds of things, the barroom is packed. Spider’s a pace ahead of me, leaving the chain linking us in full view. Several brows rise at the sight of it. Humiliation slams against the inside of my chest with every hammer of my heart.
While he was gone, I’d been trying to fathom my place in the club’s hierarchy. I’d felt like something that had no name, pinned between the status of a club girl and an old lady, without the special status or rights afforded to one, yet saved only by Spider’s possessiveness from being forced to endure the shame of the other.
The incident with Gary should have changed things with Spider as well as everyone else, but it hasn’t, and I feel stuck, trapped, unbalanced, left with no way to make things better. Mort’s sage advice suddenly feels useless. Any hope that I could gain any points with Spider and bring light into the darkness with a good deed has been ripped away, leaving an unending hopelessness in its place.
The only silver lining is that, unlike the night of Diesel’s party, I’m not naked, and yet the looks we’re getting from those who pass us make me feel as exposed and shamed as if I’m not wearing anything.
No, that collar, and especially the leash, has reduced me to something much less than any club girl. I’m a pet, an animal, a slave, one who’s about to be paraded before the entire clubhouse so that everyone here is made aware of what I am.
I am his property, and Spider is my master.
The pastors warned us about the perils of the world outside the Colony, and what’s happening here sends all those warnings slamming home, making them painfully real.
At the entrance to the barroom, the babble of voices seeps in, and I jerk on the leash, unable to help myself. Spider seizes my elbow, jerking me forward. “Don’t make me drag you,” he rumbles.
Before I can take a step, a woman’s voice