Master Jacob led out the club’s newest addition. Tall and muscular, with ebony hair to his waist, and dark gold eyes, the sub scanned the crowd slowly, as if taking stock of the clientele—which consisted of Masters and their subs, and even some unaccompanied Masters. Not by a single flutter of an eyelash did any semblance of nervousness show on the sub’s part. There was respect within those eyes, but it had to be won.

“My friends,” Master Jacob announced after stopping in the center of the room, “I present our newest member to you: Nathaniel. I have known him for many years, and he has always expressed an interest in our lifestyle. I hope he finds what he is looking for here.”

More than one pair of interested eyes turned to look at Nathaniel. With a casual glance, another Master stepped forward and said quietly, “Welcome, Nathaniel."

“Nathaniel, this is Master Raphael.”

A quiet murmur of welcome followed Jacob’s introduction. The comfortable atmosphere of the club was by deliberate design. Several of the subs moved silently among the others, serving drinks, while others remained by their respective Masters. None, however, approached Master Raphael, except to offer him a drink. He took one of the glasses of champagne and raised it toward Nathaniel in toast.

A long, black leather coat hid most of the man’s form, but still gave hints of the muscular frame. Wisps of pale blond hair escaped from the tie and strayed across his cheek when he turned his head. The deep blue gaze fastened on Nathaniel.

Nathaniel smiled, taking care to hide the canines well. Aside from Jacob, no one knew of his true nature, and despite his race’s tendencies, he preferred not to terrify anyone. “Thank you, Master,” he said in a quiet, respectful voice. His gaze lifted, meeting briefly with Raphael’s before lowering once more.

Jacob stepped up beside Nathaniel and handed him a glass. Nathaniel thanked him, then sipped slowly, forcing the nervousness back where it couldn’t be seen. Heavens above. If any of his kind saw him now, he would be hunted, seen as weak.

“We hope you find what you are looking for here, as Master Jacob said. You are free to make your own decisions, no matter how long it may take.” Raphael spoke in a quiet but very deep voice, and Nathaniel could imagine how the man would sound giving commands.

With a chuckle, Jacob said, “You’ll find no pressure here, Nathaniel. Master Raphael tends to be extremely strict about the club rules. If you have any questions, you can always ask either of us.”

“Thank you both,” Nathaniel said with a nod. Jacob directed him to one of the tables and Nathaniel sat down, grateful to be out of the limelight as the others began milling about once more. He sipped slowly on his champagne, simply watching.

He wasn’t quite sure what had led him there. His kind were always the dominant type, with the males competing—for females, for power, for the right to eat first. This…was new. But it was also where his heart brought him—to find someone to serve and look up to. He had been the outcast, always second-place—an omega among alphas.

Another man approached Raphael and asked, “Am I working with Vincenzo tonight?”

“Go ahead and get ready for the demonstrations. Tell Vincenzo to be ready soon.” Raphael unbuttoned his coat and slipped out of it. The leather of his pants molded tightly to his body, and the white silk shirt had an old-fashioned elegance that hid nothing of the form beneath the cloth.

Nathaniel barely noticed the activity around him, so focused he was on Master Raphael. As he watched the coat slip from strong shoulders, Nathaniel’s gaze slid slowly over the muscular frame. The Master’s pants looked like they’d been painted on, and the soft, shining ripples of Raphael’s shirt held Nathaniel mesmerized. His fingers itched to stroke over the shiny material, to touch the hard muscles beneath.

Nathaniel shook his head quickly. It would do him no good to think such things, especially about the club’s owner. No doubt, Raphael most likely had many subs waiting for his touch. Nathaniel took another drink, but could not pull his gaze from the man. Raphael settled in his chair, but none came forward to serve him. All around him, the others settled near their Masters, waiting impatiently for the display to begin.

One of the Dommes led her sub toward the center of the room. The click of her heels sounded loud in the otherwise quiet room. She wore nothing but black, her face obscured by a black mask. The soft tap of her whip to the side of her leg accompanied her movements and brought a noticeable shiver to the sub who didn’t dare turn around to look at his Mistress. Two others came out to truss the sub to the bar above his head. From there, his arms were outstretched, wrists supported in sturdy, thick cuffs. His fingers curled around the chains as his feet were spread apart, attached to the cuffs along the lower bar. When the two attendants stepped back, the sub took a slow, deep breath.

Nathaniel’s gaze riveted on the scene ready to play out for all to see. Nothing had happened, yet his chest already rose and fell quickly, his breathing labored. There were times when he really did treasure his sensitive empathy. If he focused enough, he would be aware of what the sub felt. As it was, when the Domme’s first strike landed a sharp, red stripe across her sub’s buttocks, Nathaniel almost jumped. His body ached for that, to feel the soft, soothing touch of skin on skin after the strike. He bit at his lower lip, nicking the skin enough to taste blood, with the second snap of the whip.

The intensity of the strikes sharpened, drawing soft moans from the young sub. After each one, his Mistress whispered softly in his ear and the caress of her hand smoothed over the burning flesh. When the last snap of the whip left another red strip across the sub’s ass, Nathaniel bit back a whimper. His lip hurt from where his canines had made several punctures in his attempts to stifle his own moans. There were times when he wished he could switch off the empathy altogether.

As the Domme soothed her sub, the young redhead was released. She gathered him close and petted him, then led him away to a more private area. Nathaniel watched them, his longing forming a lump in his throat, but his own wants—and needs—lay not in the hands of a woman. When he turned back to the group, he met Raphael’s gaze. How long had the man been watching him?

Raphael lifted his hand and gestured for Nathaniel to join him. Swallowing hard, Nathaniel stood and walked across the room to where Raphael sat. Unsure of what to do, considering Raphael was not his Master, Nathaniel opted for the respectful approach and knelt before him. “Thank you, Master Raphael,” he said quietly.

“Not necessary, Nathaniel." Raphael motioned to the chair beside him. “There is nobody here you have to kneel before until you make the decision for yourself. I simply wanted to talk.” Nathaniel sat down in the chair and smiled at Raphael. “Thank you, Master Raphael.”

“You enjoyed the demonstration? Mistress Candida is well-known for her skill, as are many of the others here at the club.”

“Yes,” Nathaniel said. He cleared his throat. “I did. It was very…stimulating.”

“You can relax, Nathaniel. There’s no reason to be nervous here.” With a light touch, Raphael reached out and patted Nathaniel’s hand reassuringly. “You can observe everything that happens here and decide for yourself if it’s for you. Nobody expects anything from you.”

Nathaniel sighed and slumped back into the chair. “I wish it were easy,” he said as he watched the others mingle. Jacob had one of his subs at his feet, fingers through the young woman’s hair. “Do you know what an empath is?”

“I do. Would you prefer a quieter atmosphere?”

“I don’t wish to take you from anyone. I imagine there must be several waiting for you.” Raphael stood in answer and held his hand out to Nathaniel. “Nobody is waiting for me at all. We can go to the library for a quieter discussion.”

“Thank you. There are things I don’t wish to be overheard.”

“Then I would be the one to talk to about such things.”