To hide the bulky gauze dressing, he'd worn an old shirt from college days when he'd belonged to a SCA group. The medieval look with full sleeves didn't go too bad with his leather jeans, and the green color worked just fine for St. Pat's Day.
Cullen nodded to Ben at the guard desk, received a token salute, and stepped into the clubroom. Z had apparently decided upon a romantic Celtic theme for the evening, and the lilting music of Clannad drifted through the room rather than the harsh beat of aggrotech. Not bad. In fact, the atmosphere felt almost like his grandfather's Irish pub…aside from the sounds of whips and chains, screams and groans.
Cullen ducked under the bar and saw Dan filling drink orders.
“'Bout time you got here,” Dan said, throwing a token punch.
Cullen stepped out of range and winced when the hasty movement pulled on the bandages.
Dan stilled. “What happened?”
“Just a burn. Not bad.” Hell, here only five minutes and he was outed.
“Go sit. I'll play bartender this evening.”
“I've got it.” Cullen moved his arm and sighed. Who was he fooling? It would hurt like hell if he did a complete night. “For a couple hours or so.”
Dan studied him, then nodded. “I'll set the rest of us up to rotate through after that until Raoul comes on.”
“Thanks. I owe you.” Cullen stepped around him and set a beer on the bartop for Adrian. “How are my trainees?”
“Pretty as all get-out. They coordinated their outfits, even Austin.” Dan pointed across the room.
“Well, now,” he murmured at the sight of Andrea serving drinks to a group of Dommes. As cute as a button, his gramps would say. The rich brown vinyl skirt was good, but the green ribbons knotted like macramé to cover her breasts were excellent. She'd pulled her hair back and more green ribbons mingled with her streaky curls. The tiny bows tied around her ankles showcased her tanned legs. “Very nice.”
She'd had her week of thinking. Tonight she'd tell him what the hell had happened in that pretty head of hers. Why had she chilled out like that? Snuggling in his lap one night and avoiding him the next. And why the hell did he care?
Another sub, Cullen, she's just another sub in a long line of subs. And she doesn't want her trainer. He glanced at the next person waiting and snapped, “What do you need?”
The young brunette sub paled and took a step back.
Fuck, now he was scaring the little ones. “Sorry, love,” he said gently. “What can I get you?”
Giving him a wary look, she edged closer and started reciting her order.
After her, Cullen worked his way around the bar, concentrating on the music and his friends, and slowly his mood lightened. Bartending at the Shadowlands balanced the intensity of his arson work. He liked meeting people's needs, either for drinks or talk or advice.
As Cullen set a White Russian in front of a new redheaded sub, Marcus stepped behind the bar, saying, “Dan sent me over to assist you and learn how to tend the bar.”
Doms could be pain-in-the-ass mother hens. Cullen had the same trait, but that didn't mean he had to like landing on the receiving end. He heaved a sigh and gave in. “The beer is kept in this refrigerator…”
Once they'd dealt with the current batch of drinks, Cullen leaned on the bar, Marcus beside him.
Over at the chain station, Nolan indulged in flogging his pretty redhead—very lightly, as usual. Then he stopped. From the annoyed look on his face, Beth had sassed him. He tossed the flogger aside and stepped over to her, burying his fist in her hair. When he stared down at her, the increase in sexual tension was obvious from across the room.
“She's a spirited little thing,” Marcus commented. “But I do tend to prefer the quieter ones.”
“I usually do too.” At least until recently, until a little Amazon started giving him trouble. “You have someone here in mind?”
Marcus shook his head. “I am still making the acquaintance of the members.”
New prosecuting lawyer, Cullen recalled. The cops who'd seen him work a jury said he was damn good. “You're here from Virginia, right?”
“I wanted some distance from my divorce.”
Now see, that right there demonstrated why a man shouldn't get involved. “Makes sense. You enjoying the Shadowlands?” Cullen turned back to the scene at the chain station.
When Nolan picked up a cane, Beth's eyes widened. Trust came hard to that sub, and Nolan kept pushing her limits. Now he started with mild flicks up her body, warming her up, waiting until she relaxed. The first light snap across her breasts raised her up on tiptoes.
Cullen grinned.
“I do like this club,” Marcus murmured with an identical grin. “You've got an interesting group of trainees too, although one seems to be rather attached.”
Cullen felt his gut tighten and kept his muscles loose. “Andrea?”
“Yes, sir, that would be the one.” Marcus gave him a level look. “I did enjoy the time you graciously shared with her. But if she has come to be important to you…”
“The master in charge of the trainees has to keep distant from the subs,” Cullen said. Which was why he didn't plant his fist in Marcus's face right now. He rubbed his chin. Dammit, his possessiveness kept increasing.
“So I've heard,” Marcus said. “But even that master might be tempted.”
Yeah, and that master was in deep shit.
Andrea's energy had faded like pink panties laundered with Clorox. She'd spent much of last night cleaning two new businesses and then couldn't get to sleep afterward. Too excited over tonight. Here she'd been all primed to put her grandmother's advice into action, but Master Dan had manned the bar instead of Master Cullen. Talk about a letdown. Despite the cheerful crowd and the fun Celtic music, the fizzle had vanished from the evening like a Pepsi left out in the sun.
Heaving a sigh, Andrea wrote more drink orders and went back to the bar. She set her tray on the bartop.
“Pretty outfit.” The deep voice took her breath away.
“Master Cullen, you're here!” Dios, look at him. He actually had a shirt on rather than a vest and the full-sleeved medieval style made him appear even bigger, his shoulders even wider. The rolled-up sleeves revealed his muscular, tanned forearms and wrists.
“Very observant of you, love.” He didn't come around the bar as he'd done in the beginning, didn't lean over the bar. Her attempting to stay away from him had worked too well.
“Go after him,” her grandmother had said. All right, Abuelita, just watch me work. If he wouldn't move closer, then she must. She rested her forearms on the bar in an imitation of his usual posture. Only she had breasts and knew full well that her arms squeezed them together, making serious cleavage.
He definitely noticed.
“You look really nice too,” she said. And everything in her wanted him. “The green in your shirt matches your eyes.”
Those green eyes narrowed.
She could feel his gaze as she rummaged for the scrap of paper she'd tucked into her token bra. Considering the open spaces outnumbered what the ribbon covered, she was lucky it held paper at all.
“Want some help?”
She looked up, knowing his perceptive gaze would catch how much she wanted him. Not that she wanted to hide it anymore.
“Well now,” he murmured. He leaned across the bar and tucked a finger into her knotwork bra, securing her while he pulled the paper out…and took the time to rub his knuckles over her rapidly peaking nipples. She'd tried arranging the ribbons to hide her nipples, but her breasts had soon jiggled them out.
Then again, if things sticking out interested him, she'd wear macramé every night.
She closed her eyes as her nipples tightened into sensitive nubs, and she could feel herself dampen. When she opened her eyes, she realized he wasn't looking at her breasts. Instead he was studying her face as he touched her. Somehow that just made the heat worse.
He smiled and ran a finger across her lips. “Once you're off duty, we're going to have a talk, little tiger.”
“Yes, Señor.”
He straightened and stepped back, wincing as if his shoulders hurt. She frowned. He was moving funny too. Stiff, like—
“Master Cullen, you made it!” Vanessa nudged Andrea to one side without even a glance. “You promised me you'd use the flogger on me tonight. I've been waiting and waiting.”
“I did promise that, didn't I?” Cullen looked at Andrea's orders. “Let me get these drinks, and then we'll talk.” At the mixing station, he reached for a bottle, winced, and moved closer to the counter before picking it up.
“I saw the way you looked at him,” Vanessa whispered, her eyes slitted like a feral cat. “Don't get any ideas. I also saw the van you drive, and I can tell you, he wouldn't be interested in a maid.”
Vanessa's scorn filled the air like a foul stench, and Andrea took a step away. There was no answer she could make.
“You don't belong here,” the other sub muttered before her mouth curved into a sugary smile as Master Cullen approached.
He set the drinks in front of Andrea. “There you go, sweetie.”
Dammit, he still didn't look right. The laugh lines beside his eyes and mouth had tightened, and his easy humor disappeared.
“Vanessa, give me an hour to finish up here and I will—”