The Auction: A Dark Romance: Chapter 16

‘M ‘Riggs! Wake up,’ Blakely demands, shaking me.

I open my eyes and sit up. My skin’s coated with sweat, and my insides rage with hatred. And everything feels out of control.

Blakely’s blue eyes are wide. She strokes my cheek and asks, ‘You okay?’

I snap out of it, realizing where I am, and cringing that she witnessed me having a nightmare.

I thought they had stopped. I hadn’t had one in over a year, yet this is the third in the last ten days.

The first nightmare occurred the night I caught Blakely drunk on the deck. The second, a few nights after. Now this one.

I’ve kept all this away from her. It was easy since I’ve not allowed her to sleep with me since we returned from Apartment Thirteen.

I snap, ‘Why are you in here?’

She pulls her hand away and lifts her chin. ‘I heard you crying.’

‘I wasn’t crying,’ I claim, then push past her and slide out of bed. I go into the bathroom and turn on the shower.

She follows me. ‘Riggs, do you always have nightmares? The other night, I thought I heard—’

‘Not sure what you thought you heard or saw, but I can assure you it was nothing,’ I state, stepping under cold water.

She watches me shower, and I ignore her, my irritation increasing since it’s pouring down rain. That means surfing’s out, which is normally the only way I can work through the aftermath of my past.

Well, that or sex after breaking down a sub for a few hours, but I can’t attend the club until tonight. Another rule is that Doms can’t play in the club until they’ve proven they’ve mastered the sub they bought at the auction.

Not that I would find another sub when I’m in a contract. It goes against my code, no matter what my needs are.

So, until tonight, when I take Blakely to the club, I’m screwed.

Even then, I’m in trouble. I’ve not touched her since the night at Apartment Thirteen. No matter how much she’s tried to make things right between us, I’ve given her the cold shoulder. After a forty-eight-hour detox, which was extreme even for my standards, I let her out of the guest room, warning her that if she touched any more alcohol, she’d be locked in for a week.

We fell into a pattern. I’d go to work, leave her at the beach house, and come home late at night, well after dark. She tried to make amends the first few days, but I wasn’t interested.

She broke rule thirteen. It may be a mandatory club rule, but it would have been in my contract whether they wanted it or not. There’s no tolerance on my part for drunks or druggies.

After the fourth night, she didn’t try anymore. A few times, I got home and she was already in bed. I hated it, as much as I hated seeing her slurring her speech and barely able to stand.

And now it’s time to prove I have control over her and she’s able to fully submit to me.

I’ve never been so unprepared.

The nightmares only add to the unhinged, unstable chaos I can’t eliminate inside me. The longer I go without touching my pet, the crazier I feel. The only thing keeping me partially sane is knowing I’m taking Hugh down, but even that has challenges.

Jones hacked into two of Hugh’s offshore accounts, but it’s like he had a sensor on it. As soon as Jones got in, the money moved. It’s a more sophisticated system than Jones has ever seen. While he’s confident he’ll break the code, it’s wearing on my patience.

And Chainsaw hasn’t found Snake yet. It seems the thug wised up and fled town. It’s another thing bugging me. A good night at the warehouse, dragging the last breath out of Snake would have let me release some energy, but that hasn’t happened.

The only saving grace I have in all of this is sneaking pictures of Blakely and sending them to her father.

And I know I’m getting under his skin. It took a while, but I finally got the text messages I’d been waiting for, which means he’s starting to crack.

I sent a picture of Blakely in the shower with soap falling down her breasts and a message.

But no matter how much satisfaction I get from sticking it to Hugh, it’s only short-lived. The moment I think about Blakely and how long it’s been since I touched her, the more unsettled I feel.

I should be training her, pushing her to her limits. She should be broken by now, ready to submit on a moment’s notice, and aware of all the protocols.

She’s clueless.

For the first time ever, I’m going to fail as a Dom. But the thought of my reputation and ego taking a hit isn’t what’s bothering me.

I’m going to lose Blakley.

Every night, I make the long drive from the city, reprimanding myself for my inaction. Yet the moment I step through the door and see her, or search the house only to find relief when I discover her safe in bed, my mind plays games with me. Everything I used to feel confident about seems broken. Nothing I would normally do with subs seems like it’ll work with Blakely.

She’s not intimidated by me. She’s able to stand up to me and not even flinch. None of my other subs would have dared to repeatedly argue with me, even the one I nicknamed Brat.

I’ve always known Blakely was different. I suppose it’s what drew me to her, but nothing prepared me for her insubordinate behavior or how out of control it would make me feel.

And the last thing a Dom should ever be is out of control. Irrevocable mistakes can get made, and subs end up hurt. It’s irresponsible and dangerous.

So she’s got me questioning everything I used to take pride in knowing, but I’m unsure how to stop it.

A bolt of lightning streaks across the ocean, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn off the cold water, dry myself off, and brush past Blakely. I go into my closet and select a T-shirt and a pair of joggers.

Blakely’s glare never leaves me. I can feel it burning along my skin.

I pull my shirt over my head, then step into the joggers.

‘Are you going to ignore me all day?’ she asks, her voice full of irritation and hurt.

My heart pounds harder. I take a lungful of air and lock eyes with her. ‘Is there something you need, Blakely?’

She pins her eyebrows together, tilts her head, and crosses her arms.

The defiance I loved at the start now scares the shit out of me. I should have control over it by now, and I don’t. Everyone at the club will see it tonight. Only a few hours stand between us, then they’ll take her from me, and I’m clueless about what to do about it.

I step in front of her. ‘I’m waiting for an answer.’

She lifts her chin, but all I hear is hurt and fear in her voice when she asks, ‘Is this your way of letting me go?’

My pulse pounds between my ears. ‘Meaning?’

‘Are we not going to the club tonight?’

‘Yes, we are. Be ready to go by six.’

She blinks hard, her eyes glistening, and looks away.

Since I’m a dick, I ask, ‘Do you have another question?’

She meets my gaze. ‘Are you going to tell me what I’m expected to do tonight?’

Every cell in my body seems to throb with hot blood. Even she knows she’s not ready. I hate myself for putting us in this position. I debate how to answer and finally reply, ‘Do what you’re told. Don’t argue with me. Trust me and only me.’

She stares at me.

My anger at myself flares. I accuse, ‘But you can’t do that, can you?’

Her face hardens.

‘Like I told you last week, tonight’s in your hands,’ I declare, then brush past her and go into my office. I shut the door, then quietly bang my head on the wall, hating myself for no longer knowing what direction to lead her.

I take the seat at my desk, open up my laptop, and try to get lost in work. It’s Saturday, and while I could have gone to the L.A. office, I didn’t want to make the drive twice. But I soon regret it when the sound of the piano and Blakely’s emotion-filled voice hit my ears.

I listen to her for hours, unable to leave the room, fearing she’ll stop playing. When she finally does, it’s past two.

I venture out of the office and find her staring out the window. It’s still raining, and the waves are several feet high.

‘Have you eaten today?’ I question.

She spins toward me. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘You need to eat. It’s going to be a long night,’ I inform her.

‘At least I know one thing about tonight,’ she mutters, then turns back toward the window.

I stop thinking, go over to her, slide my arm around her waist, and step flush against her back.

She freezes.

I murmur into her ear, ‘If you stiffen up like this tonight, you won’t be coming back here.’

She slowly tilts her head, pinning her glassy blues on mine. ‘Do you even want me here?’

Blood rushes to my head so fast that I have to focus on fighting the dizziness. I reply, ‘Is that what you think? That I don’t want you here?’

Her bottom lip quivers. ‘I might as well have been invisible.’

‘You’re anything but,’ I declare.

Another streak of lightning bursts through the sky as thunder booms. She jumps, and I chuckle, which feels like the first time I’ve laughed in weeks.

She takes a deep breath and smiles.

‘Come eat. I’ll make you lunch.’ I lead her over to the island and pull out the barstool.

She sits but states, ‘I really don’t think I can eat.’ She puts her hand on her stomach.

I put my hand on her forehead. ‘Don’t tell me you’re sick.’

‘No. Just nervous.’

I nod. ‘It’s normal.’

She blurts out, ‘What else is normal?’

‘Nothing,’ I state.

She glares at me.

I hold my hands in the air. ‘I’m not lying. Every event is different.’

‘Tell me one thing, Riggs. Something that when I get there, I know it’s always the same,’ she says.

I try to think, but there’s nothing I can tell her.

She takes my silence the wrong way and accuses, ‘You really can’t give me one thing, can you? It’s just another way for you to stay in control.’

I pull the chair out and sit next to her, confessing, ‘This isn’t about control, pet. I don’t know what will happen when we show up. They don’t tell me if we’ll be in a private room or on the stage. I don’t know what tools I’ll be provided, if anything at all. The board decides everything, and they feel the element of surprise keeps the process honest.’

‘Honest?’

‘It’s for your protection…to make sure subs are with the right Dom,’ I add.

She closes her eyes, keeping her hand on her stomach. Her face turns pale. I barely hear her beg, ‘I need something, Riggs. One thing I’m aware of. I don’t know why, but something is calming to me about knowing what the normal part is.’

I think for a minute, then stroke her cheek and state, ‘Me. I’m your normal part.’

She opens her eyes and softly laughs.

‘What’s so funny?’ I question.

‘You aren’t normal,’ she claims.

I shrug. ‘Maybe so, but I’m your common denominator tonight. Whenever you need to feel calm, you just look at me.’

‘Except I don’t usually feel calm when you’re pinning your angry eyes on me, ordering me around,’ she admits.

‘Is that what you think I do?’ I tease.

She bites on her smile, arching her eyebrows.

I slide my arm around her shoulders, lean closer, and murmur, ‘If I recall, your pussy gets pretty wet when I do that.’

She nudges me in the chest with her elbow, and her face turns red.

‘Ouch!’ I cry out, then stare at her. I add, ‘Seriously. Try not to figure out what will happen tonight. Just go with it.’

‘Spoken by Mr. Control Freak himself,’ she mutters.

I pick up her hand and kiss it. ‘Yep. So if I can do it, so can you. And I need you with me on this if you’re going to come home with me tonight.’

Her face falls, making my stomach flip. A moment passes and then she nods. ‘Okay. You’re my common denominator.’

I rise, kiss her on the top of her head, and announce, ‘Good. Now let’s get some food in your belly.’