Her nerves were clear. And totally expected.
“Hi, Betsy. I’m Ink. Before you ask, it’s my real name.”
“It is?” Her eyes widened.
Well that dive bombed. “Ahh, no. It’s not. That was kind of a joke. It’s a nickname. But don’t ask me what my real name is because then I’d have to kill you.”
Lame, dickhead.
She flinched. Her gaze ran over his tattoos. Right, she was probably taking that threat literally. He was used to people judging him by his appearance. It cooled his arousal.
If she could judge so easily then she wasn’t for him.
“Come on, let’s go find a place to chat.”
He headed off to one of the aftercare areas when he noticed she wasn’t beside him. With a sigh, he turned back to tell her to walk beside him. He wanted her where he could keep an eye on her.
A bullwhip cracked and Betsy froze. Her eyes went wide, fear filling her face.
Sympathy stirred inside him. The bullwhip could be a scary noise if you weren’t prepared for it. Especially when you were already out of your comfort zone.
“Hey, Betsy.” He moved closer. “You’re all right. Betsy? Look at me.”
Her gaze was moving around the room, as though searching for a threat.
“Betsy, you’re safe. Look at me now.” He put more steel into his voice and she glanced up at him. “Good girl. You’re safe. You’re at Fringe. Nobody is going to hurt you. Well, not unless you want them to.”
Give it up, idiot. You’re not funny.
She gave him a nod.
“All right, brown eyes. Let’s go sit down and we can talk. The whip might sound again, but nobody is going to use it on you, all right?”
Damn it. From the look of her, she was about thirty seconds away from bolting.
But she took a deep breath. “All right.”
“Can I have your hand?” He held out his hand, letting her decide whether to take it. She reached out and put her hand in his. Shit. She was freezing. Even though she wasn’t wearing much, it wasn’t that cold in here. Not with this many bodies around.
The bullwhip cracked again and she gasped, jumping, her hand squeezing his. To his shock, she stepped closer to him as she glanced over at the area from where the whip had sounded across the far side of the dungeon.
He would be lying if he said he didn’t like the way she clung to him. It called at his protective instincts. Made him want to tug her in tight and keep her safe.
Leading her over to a couch, he sat and patted the seat beside him.
“I thought submissives usually knelt on the floor,” she said huskily.
“Well, right now, I’d like you to sit here so we can chat.” He made his voice firm and she immediately sat.
“Sorry,” she whispered, clasping her hands in her lap and staring down at them.
“Hey, no need to be sorry. You’re just learning. I’m here to help teach you. Not that I’m the best teacher.”
“Why is that?” She chewed at her lip. “I mean…if that’s okay for me to ask.”
“We’re just talking right now. You can ask what you like.” He leaned back and put an arm across the back of the sofa. Not touching her, but keeping close.
“I don’t always like to play by the rules. But don’t worry, I’m just a temporary fill-in. Next time you come, someone else will help you.”