Seven: A Club Alias Novel Read online

  Also by KD Robichaux

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright 2017 by KD Robichaux. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Seven Production Crew

  Editing by Hot Tree Editing

  www.hottreeediting.com

  Cover Design and

  Formatting by Pink Ink Designs

  www.pinkinkdesigns.com

  Cover Photography by Justin James Cadwell

  Edited by FuriousFotog

  www.onefuriousfotog.com

  THE BLOGGER DIARIES TRILOGY

  Wished for You

  Wish He Was You

  Wish Come True

  No Trespassing

  CONFESSION DUET

  Before the Lie

  Truth Revealed

  CONFESSION DUET SPINOFF STANDALONES

  (Can be read without the duet)

  Seven: A Club Alias Novel

  Coming Soon

  Doc: A Club Alias Novel

  Knight: A Club Alias Novel

  I’m here.

  I SEND THE text, and then glance up over my steering wheel and through my windshield. It’s pitch-black outside except for porch lights on at neighboring houses. My sister, Astrid, is in the one directly in front of me. The one-story house looks nice on the outside, painted a perfect, crisp white. The black shutters around the three windows and the red door give just enough pop to make the home look inviting. It’s the perfect appearance to disguise the violence that goes on inside its walls.

  I peek up into my rearview mirror. Paranoia mixes with my anxiety, raising my blood pressure enough I can feel my heart beat in my eardrums. I pray I don’t see headlights come up behind me. The hell we would pay if we got caught….

  “Come on, come on, sis,” I whisper, squeezing the cell in my palm. My other hand fists around the steering wheel, nails digging in and knuckles turning white.

  My tension rises until finally, I see the door straight ahead open and a shadow slips out of the house before it shuts again. My shoulders sag as a huge weight is lifted from them and I drop my phone between my thighs. As my sister’s small frame crosses the street, I reach beneath my dash to pop the trunk for her.

  She scurries to the back of my car and tosses in her bags before slamming it shut. I hit the unlock button just as she reaches for the handle, and the lights turn on as she yanks open the door. The sense of relief as I see her flushed face when she slips into the passenger seat makes me almost dizzy.

  Until I spot the dark purple bruise around her left eye before she pulls the door closed behind her.

  As the car goes black again, she presses a kiss to my cheek. My heart breaks a little, but then she whispers, “Thanks, Twy. Now drive. Brandon will be home soon.”

  That’s all it takes. I shove my shifter into gear and speed out of the neighborhood.

  And we don’t look back for 2,673 miles.

  Two months later

  “YOUR WORK HISTORY is flawless. Your letter of recommendation from your previous employer is very impressive,” Roxanne, the store manager says, looking down through her tiny-lensed readers at my application before glancing up at me over the rims. “But, darlin’, you have a bachelors in chemical engineering. Why in the world do you want to work in my little shop? You’re completely overqualified.”

  My shoulders slump. But at least she’s asking me this now, instead of telling me in an e-mail denying me employment, like the other sixteen interviews I’ve been to in the past seven weeks.

  “With all due respect, at this point, I will take anything I can get,” I answer honestly.

  She pulls off her glasses, folding her arms on top of her desk. The middle-aged woman has an almost motherly air about her. Her frizzy blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail away from her face. She would have been gorgeous in her prime. Her voice is kind. “Surely there is something better fitting for you, honey. I can only imagine the amount of work you had to put in to get that kind of degree. There must be—”

  I can’t hold it in any longer. And for the first time since we left California, I spill everything that’s been circling inside my head, unable to confide in anyone. “My sister and I moved here for a fresh start. Halfway across the US, we googled a map of the country, closed our eyes, and where her finger landed, that’s where we were going. I’m always the planner. When I was young, I would make an itinerary for every minute of our family vacations. To this day, I literally pencil in time to eat and sleep. She made me promise that this time, there would be no planning. No scheduling. We would leave it all up to fate. And this is where fate put us. Little did we know we would be planting ourselves in a small town outside a military base with nothing around but a shopping mall, tattoo shops, restaurants, movie theaters, and your… unique establishment. There is… absolutely nothing… for a chemical engineer. And by now, trying to find anywhere to work, our savings are almost completely gone.”

  I look at her pleadingly. She looks back at me with indecision.

  “Please,” I beg, before I realize the word was spoken aloud instead of just on repeat inside my mind.

  I hold my breath.

  Finally, she speaks. “The job pays ten dollars an hour plus commission. We’re open from 10:00 a.m. to midnight Monday through Saturday and noon to six on Sundays. You split a schedule with my other girl, Ali. She works tonight at seven, so you can come figure out who gets which shift then.”

  I can’t help the tears that spring to my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. “Oh my gosh. Thank you so much. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “Oh, I know I won’t, darlin’. You’re obviously a hard worker. I just hope you won’t,” she tells me, and I nod, standing from the chair across from her desk as she does the same. “See you at seven.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  I hurry out of the office, avoiding looking at the items on the shelves as I make my way to the glass door, hearing the bell jingle as I head to my car. As I pull open my driver side door, I glance over my shoulder at my new workplace, feeling a rush of excitement to get home to Astrid to tell her the good news.

  “You are looking at the newest sales associate at Toys for Twats!”

  Astrid, midsip, chokes on her coffee, setting her mug down on the thrift shop dining table as she covers her mouth with her hand. I wait for her to hack and dribble down her front before her coughing turns into laughter. My eyebrow rises as I cross my arms over my chest and cock a hip.

  “My sister, one of the rising stars at a multi-million-dollar company that makes all-natural cleaning solutions, is now the sales associate of a sex shop?” Through her laughter, I see tears fill her eyes, but as her face slowly melts, I see they aren’t happy ones, and my arms fall to my sides, all haughtiness dissolved. “I’ve ruined your life.”

  I rush forward and
pull her to her feet, placing my palms against her now wet cheeks. I force her to meet my eyes, thankful the nasty bruise is finally gone from around her beautiful blue ones. “You did not ruin my life. You are my life, sis. You’re worth everything.” It’s a mantra I repeat to her several times a day, the only thing I can think to do myself to help undo the emotional abuse her monster of an ex put her through for years.

  “And as you’re out busting your ass, trying to find anything to help us make ends meet, I’m the useless piece of shit sitting here doing absolutely nothing,” she whimpers, and it makes me hate Brandon even more. My big sister, the beautiful, popular, extremely talented contemporary dancer back in high school, who I always looked up to and who always loved and included me, has been beaten down to a shell of the powerhouse she used to be.

  “That’s not true, Astrid. You’re bringing in enough to pay for our groceries with your online makeup sales. You’re putting food on the table. It was my idea for you not to go out and try to find a job. To keep you hidden as much as possible,” I remind her.

  “But how long until I have to shut that down? What if he finds out that I lied to my group followers? That Roberta Card isn’t someone I recommended to them because I was quitting my makeup consulting and that it’s actually still me? He could track me down!” The look of panic in her eyes makes me see red. “And if I do anything else, it’s not like there are a million Astrid Quills in the world. A quick Google search and bam! He’d be here.” She starts to tremble, so I force her to sit back down in her seat.

  “He’s not going to find you. We’ve got your stuff on lockdown. You’ve completely fallen off the grid. We’re using all my information and accounts for everything. And it’s not like he could know you’re with me. I lived on the other side of the state. He never knew where I worked or anything, so he wouldn’t be able to find out I’ve quit my job there and left with you if he doesn’t know where to check,” I assure her.

  She sniffles and leans forward to wrap her arms around my waist from her seated position, resting her head on my stomach as she squeezes me. “All those times I picked on you for never having a boyfriend, for always burying yourself in your school work. And here, it’s my saving grace that he won’t have anyone to track you through. I’m sorry I always gave you shit for not taking the time to make friends, Twy.”

  “All I need is you.” I stoop down in front of her and look up into her liquidy eyes. “And now with this fresh start, with my… interesting new job, maybe I’ll finally take the time to do all that, yeah?”

  She wipes her nose with the back of her shirtsleeve. “Yep. You promised. After you got all this set up for us, there’s no more planning. We’re living day by day from here on out.”

  “Exactly.” I squeeze her knees. “Which means you, big sis, have to start putting the past behind you.”

  She nods, wipes away her tears, and puts in place her brave face. And then she looks at me oddly. “Um, Twy?”

  “Yeah?” I tilt my head to the side.

  “You know how I got into makeup consultation because, well, I know a lot about it and am really good at it?” she asks.

  I squint, not knowing where this is going. “Yeeeah.”

  “Well… umm….” She starts to giggle. “How are you supposed to convincingly sell people naughty sex toys… when you’re a virgin?”

  THE FAMILIAR SOUND of the door’s bell jingling fills my ears as I walk into the local novelty store. I always get the club’s supply of lube, toys, and things here, even though it would be cheaper to buy in bulk online. The guys and I decided it would be better to support one of our members’ businesses. Plus, she gives us a bomb-ass discount anyways.

  I grab a hot-pink basket from the stack, and without looking around, I head right for the wall of dildos, knowing exactly which ones we need. But before I can reach the colorful mass of phallic-shaped toys, I stop dead in my tracks as my path is intercepted by the most adorable creature.

  “Well hello, there,” I purr, taking in her shoulder-length shiny dark hair, framing a clean face that is lovelier than even the most professionally made-up ones I’ve ever seen. Her black-rimmed glasses perch on her slightly upturned nose, giving her a sexy librarian look. How lucky am I to have found her in a sex shop? Makes me wonder what she’s here to buy.

  “Welcome to… Toys for Twats. Can I help you find anything?” Her face flushes red, and it’s not until I see her name tag that it clicks she’s an employee, one I’ve never met before. All the others have been here for years and we know each other by name. My real name, Seth. Only the owner, Roxanne, knows my Dom name since she’s a member of Club Alias, the BDSM club I own with my three partners.

  “I have a list, actually,” I tell her, pulling the folded paper out of the front pocket of my dark jeans. I hand it to her, watching closely as she reads the first item on the list.

  She looks up at me, her brow furrowing. “Um, okay. Right this way.”

  I step forward, expecting her to turn in the opposite direction and head to the wall of dildos, but we end up colliding as she goes to walk around me in the direction from where I came through the door. A scent that is uniquely her, combined with her floral shampoo wafts up my nose, and my eyes nearly cross at how wonderfully intoxicating it is. So different from the leather and expensive perfumes I’m used to smelling every day. My dick twitches behind my zipper.

  “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. What you’re wanting is right over there,” she tells me, embarrassed, pointing over my shoulder.

  It’s not. Nothing on my list is over there. But color me intrigued. I want to know just what the fuck she’s trying to take me to see. So I step out of her way and gesture for her to lead the way.

  “Um, do you… are you wanting a certain, ah, size or anything?” she asks, and I have to fight to keep a straight face when I realize just what rack she’s now standing in front of. I glance around, trying to see if Roxanne is playing a trick on me, but with no store manager in sight, I decide to see where this goes.

  “No, I don’t really have a preference. What would you suggest… Twyla?” I read the name on her badge. Such a unique name for such a beautiful woman. It fits her perfectly.

  She clears her throat and looks up at me. “Well, ah, is… is the dildo for you or for your um… partner?”

  I use every ounce of self-control I can muster not to burst out laughing. “It would be for my partner,” I say seriously. I’m into some kinky shit, but dildos and butt plugs are not my thing when it comes to myself.

  “Okaaay.” She turns back to the rack and grabs a purple medium-sized, torpedo-shaped plug. “I would say, depending on what your partner is used to…” She glances down at the front of my pants and flushes crimson, her bright blue eyes widening behind her glasses before they meet mine. I can’t help but smile. The glance might have been unconscious, but my hard-on inside my jeans is definitely not what she expected to find in her line of vision. She gracefully tries to ignore it. “I, uh… depending on what they’re used to receiving in the bedroom, I guess you’d want to either, um… match it, or go bigger. Smaller, and they wouldn’t really feel it. But I suppose you wouldn’t want to go bigger, because then when it’s just you again….” She looks absolutely horrified by the words coming out of her own mouth.

  I put her out of her misery, take the butt plug from her hand, and place it in my pink basket. “Sounds good. All right, next on the list?”

  She stares at the purple plug in the basket, either surprised she talked me into it or trying to figure out if the size of it actually matches the size of my cock. I refrain from informing her the toy’s not even close.

  “Twyla? The list?” I stoop down to catch her eyes with mine, snapping her out of it.

  “Oh! Yeah, sorry.” She fumbles with the paper and reads the next item. “Nipple clamps.” Her head lifts as she glances around the store, her brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m not exactly sure we have those. Um, possibly over here.” She heads to the back corner a
nd stops before the display of bondage equipment. “Nipple clamps, nipple clamps,” she mumbles, bending over to look on the lower hooks, giving me the perfect view of her incredible ass encased in black leggings. She pulls off a package of clothespins, flips them over to read the back of the label, and then replaces them on the hook. When she stands and faces me, she looks almost defeated. “I’m sorry, we must be out of them.”

  Hating the look of disappointment on her face, I tell her, “No biggie. Next on the list?”

  She pushes her hair behind her ear, her face brightening when she sees what’s written last. “Lube. We’ve got lots of that. Right this way.” She hurries in the correct direction for the first time, and her posture lifts. “Do you know what kind you need? We have several brands, regular and flavored. Take your pick.”

  I look at the shelf of lubes, spotting the one I know I need for the club. Yet I’m not ready to end this time with the new sex shop employee who clearly knows nothing about the products she’s supposed to sell. She must be a vanilla kind of girl. Either that, or she’s never been with anyone who’s shown her any adventure in the bedroom.

  “What’s the difference between water-based lubricants and the silicone kind?” I ask, and watch as her eyes fill with dread. Damn. With how confidently she strode over here, I thought for sure maybe she had just been trained on these items and was excited to use her newfound knowledge. Wrong. She was obviously just happy she knew where something was located.

  “I uh—”

  “Seth, honey!”

  Twyla and I both jump at the interruption. I had been so focused on her that I didn’t see the shop’s owner come out from the back office. I take a step back from her new employee and give her a grin.

  “Roooooooxanne!” I sing, belting it out so flawlessly Sting himself would applaud.

  She strolls over and gives me a peck on the cheek before glancing into my basket. “Your load’s a little light today, isn’t it?” she asks.