Tender Mercies - By Kitty Thomas Page 0,57

island’s weather and moods. If they thought the things the rich did were odd or immoral, they didn’t say anything. They seemed to take it all in stride, sharing the island, but maintaining a separate culture that outsiders weren’t welcome to participate in. So which group was the haves and which was the have-nots? It was impossible to say.

Grace looked back at the building and winced, imagining the brander as some hardcore sadist that got turned on by causing women high levels of pain, or maybe got turned on by leaving such permanent marks with full permission from their masters. She shook the thought away. Asher had promised he’d stay with her. He stepped out of the car and extended a hand to help her out.

She smoothed the miniskirt down. At least he’d brought her out during the day. It felt less scary to be in town in the bright sunlight, so unlike the dark basements and buildings Lucas had taken her to after dark. The skirt barely covered her ass, and she knew if she bent over at all, her bare, wet pussy would be on display for anyone who cared to take notice of it.

Her fingers trailed over the platinum collar, as if checking to see that it was still there. Asher attached a long, platinum chain to the collar and led her into the building.

There were a few other slaves in the lobby, most of them naked or wearing less than she was. Despite sticking out, Grace was comforted by more clothing. Still, it didn’t stop the men from leering, whistling, and making cat noises at her. She kept her eyes down, so she didn’t see what Asher was doing, but she suspected he glared at the men, because after a couple of seconds everyone fell silent and went back to what they were doing.

She let out a little breath when they were alone on the elevator. Asher pressed the button for the appropriate floor, then backed Grace into the corner behind him and slid his hand between her legs. She let out a mewl and rubbed her crotch against his hand. He chuckled at her wanton behavior and pointed to a camera overhead. She blushed but didn’t stop rubbing on him.

The brander was on the fifteenth floor, but they stopped on three. The doors opened, and a man got on. Grace watched his shoes as he shuffled onto the elevator.

“Asher,” the familiar voice said in that way men do when they recognize one another and nod.

That voice.

It slithered over her, leaving a dirty trail that no soap in the world could wash off. She felt her heart start to pound, the throbbing noise pulsing in her ears so loud it dwarfed the sound of Lucas.

She was glad to be in the corner with her master’s broad body blocking her in, acting as a shield. Her white fingernails dug into his side, and she hoped he wouldn’t be angry if she left nail prints. It took all her energy and concentration to make her breath go in and out.

“Lucas,” Asher said between clenched teeth. His voice was tight, and Grace knew he wanted the other man on the elevator with them even less than she did.

“How is the little slut? Obedient? Pleasing? If you’re having troubles with her, I can give you some pointers. She was always very afraid of me,” Lucas said.

She pressed her forehead against Asher’s back, the feel of his warm, broad body keeping her grounded. Without him there, she was sure she would drift away.

Asher took another step back. It pushed Grace flush against the metal corner. Instead of causing her to feel claustrophobic, it made her feel safer, more protected. All sides of her surrounded by metal and Asher Collins. The muscles in his back were poised like a big cat, as if he might sprout fangs and pounce on the other man at any moment.

“I don’t need any pointers, thanks. I believe I’ve got the situation under control.”

Grace could feel the tightly-coiled violence, how it waited like a living energy, ready to spring should Lucas make a move toward them.

“I only meant that I could help if you needed it. You don’t want to let her get out of control and forget which of you is the master. It seems somewhat questionable to me. I mean, she’s not even kneeling.”

Asher jabbed at a button on the column. Number five lit up, and the cramped metal box lurched to a stop.

“I believe