A slow smile tugged at my mouth. The little lamb needed a lesson in rules—and someone to protect her from herself.
Ignoring Ethan and Victor’s calls, I left the balcony and headed downstairs. She might not know it yet, but she’d just walked into my world. And maybe they were right. Maybe indulging tonight was exactly what I needed to get my mind off the massive fuck-up of the day.
Maybe teaching a kink virgin her first lesson would be just what the doctor ordered.
Chapter 3
Mira
Micah was right about one thing. I wasn't thinking about my career-ending behavior at work right now, not with the music pounding this loud. Probably not what he meant when he suggested it.
Noah had offered to walk me to the restrooms, but I was an adult. I could manage. Or so I thought. So many people had packed in since we’d arrived, and with the strobing lights, I couldn’t tell where our table was. I didn't know what was louder, the bass or my heartbeat.
From the street, Sanctum looked like any other brick building in Old Town. Quiet. Unassuming, the kind of place people walked past without a second glance. Stepping inside was another world entirely. The entire air vibrated with bass. Overhead, intricate chandeliers flickered against exposed wood beams. Masks gleamed in the low light, velvet, leather, and lace turning strangers into predators. Goosebumps prickled across my skin.
What had I agreed to?
At the entrance, the man at the desk had asked what color I was. I’d just stared at him until Micah jumped in, telling him Iwas new. That earned us a detour into a small office where they explained the rules and had me sign an NDA.
Seriousness about privacy didn’t even begin to cover it.
After everything, they went over the bracelets everyone wore. Partnered, looking to play, collared? So many options.
"White, please!" I blurted. White was Observer only. It would be safe, right? I was assured no one would touch me without permission, and not even five minutes here and someone had broken that sacred rule.
I’d only meant to get to the restroom. Splash water on my face. Breathe. Anything to shut out the ropes, the skin, the girl on stage arching under every strike of the flogger.
But I paused—one second, one stupid second—trying to make sense of what I was seeing. A hand grabbed my arm, and I spun, colliding with half-dressed bodies. The man tried to pull me closer, but I snapped my arm free and shoved my wrist up, flashing the white band. His eyes widened, his hands lifting in surrender. Without a word, he scanned the crowd and disappeared, leaving me breathless and shaken.
The bracelet was supposed to make me invisible. Instead, I’d never felt more exposed. And I hated it.
Lifting my head, I saw him.
A man watching from the balcony spanning the far back brick wall. The iron railing cut hard shadows across his shoulders, his mask gleaming in the half-light. My stomach flipped. Worse than his gaze were the others I felt lingering on me, as if I were prey. All I wanted was to find Micah and Noah, get to a table, and hide. I’d promised an hour. In fifty-five minutes, I was gone. A half an hour after that, I’d be carefully tucked into my bed.
I scanned the room and caught sight of a door roped off in the far corner. The bathroom, maybe?
God, I hoped so.
Micah had pointed a direction earlier but right now nothing looked familiar. Everything pulsed and shifted with the lights. I shoved through the crowd until I reached the door and sagged against the wall, trying to steady my breathing.
The man guarding the door walked away before I could ask where the bathroom was, but when a girl in lace from head to toe stepped out, a huge smile on her face, I slid in before the door closed.
The hall was long and dark, lined with old brick. The door thudded shut behind me, sealing the music to a muffled pulse. If only my apartment walls had the same effect.
I sagged against the wall. Just a minute. I needed a minute. Then I’d find Micah and Noah and beg them to take me home.
That was when I heard it.
A low, shivering moan.
The hallway stretched on like a hotel corridor, doors on both sides. The first few windows were covered with heavy curtains, but light flickered behind the third door on the left.
I told myself not to look. It wasn’t my business.
But my feet carried me closer anyway.
A woman hung in an intricate web of ropes, her body folded in ways I didn’t think were possible. She was breathtaking in a terrifying, vulnerable way. The blindfold kept her from looking back at me, and the man working her had his back to the glass—so what was the harm in watching?
