Unease slithers down my spine and into my gut as I stare at the faces in front of me. All of them are expectant. All of them are on edge, just like me. I detest the feelings that swirl inside my gut. They are beneath me, something that I should be able to control but can’t.
Groaning inside, I look down at my notes and shake my head. He doesn’t belong here. There’s no way I can, in good conscience, allow him into The Society. To do so would be to open us up to a level of psychopathy that even I can’t overlook. It’s not that the other members are the best people with good intentions. It’s that their core is at least a little skewed toward control.
Luke Lannister has none. I could see it in every vibratory motion of his body when I talked with him. I heard the malice lacing his voice, as if some demon was deep inside his core, wearing him as a meat suit. Nothing scares me. Nothing frightens me. But Luke…. Luke is the worst kind of monster.
He’s the walking red flag that haunts your dreams. He’s the type of predator you want to keep submissives away from. And yet, here we are, deciding whether or not to let him into our fold. It’s laughable, like inviting Satan himself to have a tea party with you. You just say no.
What’s worse is that he’s not even trying to hide it. I could have at least gotten behind him if he had control of himself enough to keep his anger at bay, but with each question, it just spewed out of him like an uncorked barrel. The problem is, I can’t exactly see where the bottom is. I don’t have the time or the patience. His anger seems so deep that I’m sure even he can’t get to the end.
If I could have daily sessions with him, perhaps in a few months, I’d be comfortable bringing him into The Society. But as it is, I can’t in good conscience allow him entrance. Hell. I’m not even comfortable with him here as a coach. There are just too many variables. Too many things that can go wrong in places we can’t see them.
Once more, I look over the small crowd and frown as a late arrival steps into view. Irritation replaces the unease, filling my gut with it until I’m sure it will spill from my lips.
Glancing down at Dean Anderson, I jerk my head in Doctor Bradley’s direction. “What’s he doing here?”
As far as I know, he’s never taken part in an initiation before. He always had the ability, just like any of us, but he never came. Part of me thought he was far too good to dirty his hands with something like this. Either way, the fact that he’s here for this one is not only odd but suspicious.
Looking up, I pin Doctor Bradley with a pointed glare. “You don’t have to be here for this. I’m sure you have other… pressing matters. Perhaps there’s a barely legal girl you need to molest?”
He puffs up, my low blow jabbing him where it hurts - his professionalism. As if to personally irritate me, he takes his time walking over to the chairs, making sure to greet everyone he passes over before finding his seat. Resisting the urge to tap my foot, I just stare at his antics, not allowing him the satisfaction of seeing my annoyance.
Once he finds his seat and noisily adjusts his chair, he looks up at me, a smirk lifting his lips. “I’m here because, unlike you, I practice practical medicine. You can talk to the boy until you’re blue in the face, but it will be me that has to stitch up any injuries he causes. Unless you want that blood on your hands, doctor.”
Ignoring his obvious attempt to get under my skin, I turn to the others, noting their smothered laughs and smirks. Let them laugh. Once I tell them my findings, I’m sure they won’t think it’s funny anymore.
“I cannot allow Luke to enter our fold.” Grigori and Dean Anderson sit up in their chairs and look at each other, a flit of unease crossing their faces. “After giving him my customary session, as I’ve done with everyone who’s entered The Society, I find that he’s just far too much of a risk.”
Dean Anderson clears his throat and leans forward. “Are you telling me there’s no leeway here? I know almost every member personally, and I can tell you that they’re not all as stable or as ‘suitable’ as we would prefer. And yet, you’ve let them in.”
Next to him, Grigori bristles. “I hope you’re not referring to me.”
“No. Not at all,” Dean Anderson assures him, soothing Grigori’s feathers before they can get ruffled. “There are a few others I have in mind; Doctor Andrew knows, which ones. We’ve had extensive conversations.” He turns back to me before he continues. “I don’t see how Luke is any different.”
Combing my brain, my mind settles on a few names that we’ve discussed, but even then, they weren’t at all like Luke. “The main difference is, they all were able to control themselves. Luke punched the wall as he was speaking. His rage is completely out of control.”
“Yes,” he presses, leaning forward to rest his lips on his fingertips. “But he’s still so young. Surely, he can outgrow this.”
“But at what price? I can’t in good conscience allow for him to be around the submissives. What if he snaps? What if he kills someone? Do you want that on your soul, John?”
Grigori stands up, his eyes glittering in the dim lighting. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re saying. He has to join. I promised Nikolai that we’d take Luke off his hands. The lives of our girls depend on that.”
A shock of fear slides down my spine, but I force it away. It won’t help me to face this with a sense of fear. “You don’t think I know that?” My words spill out in harsh, hissed tones, not the smooth, collected show of force I wanted to present. “That’s how important this is to me. I stand so firmly in my belief that he shouldn’t be here that I’m willing to take that risk.”
“But I’m not,” he argues back, crossing his arms as he stares me down. “I will never put Chelsea in danger, and the fact that you’re willing to put Chastity there is shocking. I thought you cared about the girl.”
I close my eyes and take several deep breaths, forcing my mind and body back into control. I can’t lose it. Not when I tell the others not to allow Luke in because he can’t control himself. I have to be unmovable, implacable. Letting my mind drift to Chastity, I fill my brain with her image.
She came so prettily for me this morning while trussed up in my ropes. Her body swayed as I struck her ass with my belt. The way her moans filled the room still plays in my mind on repeat. They ground me, center me, and allow me to focus past my anger. It’s the trust I see shining through those depths that fill me with unimaginable peace.
“She is my world. My life. And if I have to pay for guards to keep her safe, I will. But you cannot ask me to change my assessment.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything, quack. I’m telling you that he will be allowed entrance. It’s not up to you. It’s a vote.”
“A vote, yes, but usually predicated on my assessment. Not once has anyone stood in opposition when I deemed a prospective applicant unworthy.”
Grigori sits and crosses his arms, glaring up at me. “Seems very gatekeepery to me. Who’s to say that you don’t turn people away just because you don’t like them.”
Dean Anderson rubs the bridge of his nose and stands. All eyes turn to him, their breaths held in anticipation. “I trust Andrew. He’s always been fair and honest. We have several members here that he didn’t like, yet he still gave them a glowing report. This isn’t personal, and we don’t need to start a witch hunt.”
After pausing for a few moments, John looks up at me. “I understand what you’re saying, but his father came to me personally. If we don’t take him in, his half-brother will kill him. It’s as simple as that. We’re this boy’s only refuge. A safe haven. What can be done to get your voice of approval?”
A sigh escapes my lips as I stare over the crowd. None of them really cares who comes in and who doesn’t. Not in a malicious way, but more in an apathetic way. People that come into our society don’t really affect them or what they do. The only time it becomes their problem is if it puts a submissive out of commission.
It just doesn’t seem to cross their mind. They’re already a part of this elite club, so why would they even bother with who else is there? They’re just content to take my word for it and go along.
It’s a power I never asked for. I do my job and present the facts, but the others need to make their informed decisions too. Ask questions, ask me to clarify things. Hell, I’d be fine with them arguing with me. It would make it feel like they’re more engaged. James Bradley doesn't count. He’s only arguing with me to get under my skin. It’s the narcissistic drive to be the best, to be right.
In all honesty, when it comes to new members, Dean Anderson and I are the only ones that really give a damn. We are the ones that have to pick up the pieces. Not them. James would be affected if the submissive was hurt, but that’s it. But then, anyone can fix an injury. I would be the one repairing their mind. That’s the main reason why I don’t want Luke here. The amount of mental damage he could cause is astronomical.
Though I can’t make a diagnosis based on just one session, what little information Louis has told me, has me pegging Luke as having a narcissistic personality disorder and borderline personality disorder, with a potential dash of sociopathic behavior thrown in because why the hell not. And that’s just scratching the surface.
Louis never revealed the things that have happened to Luke, but who knows what trauma lurks in his brain. When will it come to the surface, and when will he snap? I wouldn’t be surprised if his trauma caused him to develop an antisocial personality disorder, making him capable of extreme violence. The main thing that makes me hesitate with this diagnosis is his ability to keep and maintain a job. However, that could have been trained in him. There’s just so much that’s unknown, and that’s what scares me.
In our sessions, Luke talked at length about Ashen Springs and his “pissant half-brother,” but he never mentioned his life being in danger or any past trauma. And the way that Louis alluded to it, it was massive. It’s as if neither of those things crossed his mind. That, or he really didn’t give a damn.
It could be just his way of dealing with the trauma - shoving it so far out of his brain that he just forgets. But that’s not healthy either. One day, it will all come surging up to the surface in a way that he can’t ignore, and that’s when things will get bad.
On the other hand, despite my feelings for Luke, I can’t just throw him out to the wolves. He’d be far safer here where I can keep an eye on him instead of inflicting him onto some unsuspecting person. Allowing him to use our submissives might be just enough to keep his monsters at bay. We have several that can handle extreme forms of BDSM, so there’s bound to be someone who fits.
“I’ll concede on two conditions.” The pain of actually having to give any concession where Luke is concerned stabs me to my core. I’m never wrong, and I never backtrack. Though technically I’m still correct, they’re forcing me to recant. It burns in my gut like acid sliding down my throat. “He has to withstand the initiation. If he cannot hold himself together, he cannot be here with us. He has to have weekly sessions with me. I will not budge on either of these. It’s a take it or leave it compromise.”
Nodding his head, Dean Anderson looks over to the others. “I feel that those terms are agreeable. Any opposed?”
Doctor Bradley raises his hand and levels a grin at me. Of course, he’d be the one. As if I had the time and patience for his buffoonery. Standing, he slides his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth, a mock frown furrowing his brows. It’s all for show, and I can see right through him. The pompous bastard.
“It’s all well and good, but how do we know his breaking point? Suppose some of the Dominants here go a bit too far. Do we blame Luke? Or do we blame the Dominant?”
“If it’s you you’re worried about, you don’t have to participate. As stated earlier, this isn’t really your thing.”
“Oh, but there’s always a first, is there not? I would love to sink my scalpel into him and see if he bleeds green as the monster you insist he is.”
“You. Will. Not. Mark. Him,” I grind out, my anger rising to the point where I’m worried I won’t be able to rein it in. “You will not mar him in any way. You will only do to him what you’d do to another submissive.”
James studies his nails for a moment. “But you see, since I’m an actual doctor, I do mar my submissives. They enjoy the release the knife brings to them. Just because you’re unable to wield such tools -.”
“Enough!” Dean Anderson stands and points to James’s chair. “Sit, you imbecile. I will not stand by while you two have your pissing contest. You can measure dicks later. This is a serious meeting to discuss a serious issue. If you cannot participate in a mature manner, James, then you are free to leave.”
We all stare at him, and I, for one, am in shock. I’ve never seen John lose his temper like that. This meeting must be more serious than I thought.
“Sorry, James,” Dean Anderson continues, his voice taking on a haggard tone. “That was harsh of me. You are a highly intelligent man. This is just far more important than this vendetta you two seem to have against each other. So much more is at stake here than comparing brainpans.”
Vendetta, as if it is that simple. It’s not that we’ve wounded each other somehow. I don’t hold him in some chamber of my mind, recounting all the hurts he’s done to me. It’s far simpler and more insidious than that. We are both doctors, and we are both highly competitive.
On my end, I feel that he’s just one step above a glorified nurse. He did nothing to stand out in the medical field. Once he was through with general practice, he stayed there. I, on the other hand, pursued a specialized form of study. I deal in matters of the mind where he’s content cleaning up boo-boos.
Granted, to hear it from him, psychiatry is a pseudo-science and one not worthy of attention, but that’s only because he doesn't have the temperament or disposition to do what I do. He’s all bluster and no substance. I exude patience from my very core, where he wants everything instantly.
James sits down in a huff and crosses his arms, looking every inch the petulant child. Let him. It will only add more credence to my words and drown out his.
“If there aren’t any other issues,” I continue, my eyes drifting over the small gathering. “Let’s put it to a vote. Given my stipulations, do we allow Luke Lannister to enter The Society?”
All hands rise, and my stomach flops about for a moment. Dear God. What have I done?
