Masks of a Tiger Read Online Free PDF Page B

have stood on end.
    "Since when are uncollared subs fair game in
this club?" Ink's low growl rolled over Neeve ,
and she backed away further, right into a hard, extremely warm, male chest.
    Trikus came out of
nowhere and drew her into the entrance of the club. His bulk stopped her from
seeing past him. From the amount of growling going on out there, you'd have
been forgiven for thinking a pack of dogs had taken up residence outside the
club. Or perhaps something else entirely… Neeve had
heard the ridiculous rumors circulating about Club Ink of course, but that's
all they were. Had they been true, Estelle would have told her.
    Shifters just didn't
exist. This was a kink club. No doubt some folks here liked to dress up in
animal costumes, and that's how those rumors had started. And the fact that Trikus's eyes seemed to glow for an instant, before he
averted his head, was just a trick of the light.
    Something or someone hit
the metal entrance door hard, and Trikus whistled
under his breath. He winked at Neeve . "You're
here five minutes, and you've caused trouble already. I almost pity Grisha ."
    "What the hell is
that supposed to mean?" Neeve's curt question
was left unanswered, as Ink entered, his expression
murderous. Neeve straightened her shoulders and
wished she was anywhere but here. Ink pissed like this could not be good. She
knew that much.
    " Trikus ." He bellowed the name
with whip-like precision, and Trikus snapped to
attention. " Jordayn needs another training
session it seems. If you can't get your cousin to understand the simplest rules,
he will be out on his furry ass."
    "Yes, boss, I'll
sort it. It won't happen again."
    "Make sure it
doesn't. If your kind weren't such good security detail…" Ink didn't
finish the sentence. He didn't have to. The threat came through loud and clear,
and once again Neeve got the distinct impression that
she was missing something here.
    When Ink turned his
attention on her she wanted the ground to swallow her up. He raised one eyebrow
looking at the jacket she was still clutching to herself like a lifeline.
    "I … I—" Neeve cleared her throat to get her voice to work. Being
under Ink's close scrutiny proved disconcerting to say the least. As were the
images on the row of TV screens she'd spotted to one side. It seemed Club Ink
had private rooms. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she pressed her thighs together
to relieve the sudden throbbing in her pussy. What the hell was wrong with her
anyway? She ought to be appalled at those images playing themselves out in
front of her, not turned on.
    "I came to return Grisha's jacket. Is he here?" Neeve tried again. Her voice was a breathy porn star imitation of its usual cadence,
but at least she managed to form the words this time.
    Ink studied her for the
longest time, and Neeve tried not to fidget. He made
her nervous. The shadows were so deep in this part of the club she couldn't see
her feet, and only half his face was turned into the light. You'd think they
would have better lighting. Then again, maybe that was a blessing in disguise.
A quick look over her shoulder proved the point. A long bar was situated at the
opposite side to the club entrance, the open air space separating them,
interspersed with secluded booths, and various play stations. The one closest
to the entrance had a naked sub tied to a spanking bench whilst her Domme fucked her ass with a strap-on dildo.   Judging by the moans the sub was making she
was enjoying the experience, but Neeve suppressed a
wince and hastily looked away.
    Yes, low lighting was
probably a very good thing indeed.
    " Grisha is busy at the moment." Ink smiled when her
eyes darted to the CCTV screens involuntarily. She let out a breath of relief
when she didn't spot the tall Russian in any of the scenes taking place. Of
course he could be on the floor anywhere in the club doing God only knew what. Neeve frowned at the
thought, and Ink chuckled.
    "You have a very
expressive face, Neeve . He's not