Authors note: Hello everyone. Please be aware that this is the third series in the world of the Twelve Tables. It is heavily set in the BDSM lifestyle of Dominant men and submissive women although that can, and does, vary from time to time, the concept is constant.
I am, as always, grateful to David and Kate for being my second sets of eyes. I hope those of you who enjoy this series continue to do so. ~ellie.
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"The agreement states clearly that I will follow your lead and do whatever you ask, as long as we stay together," Noah said calmly, even though a small tic in his jaw showed his irritation at the argument he had to have with Marcella.
"My contact won't meet with me if you are hanging around. I need to go on my own. You can wait nearby, but you can't come with me!" Marcella said in slow, angry, measured words, as if talking to an imbecile.
"If I don't go with you to meet your contact, then you wear a tracker," Noah said, nearing the end of his patience with her.
"I will not!" she gasped, colour creeping up her neck with her anger.
"You will, or you can pack your bags and get ready to go back to the safety of being surrounded by all the people who care about you and are worried sick about where you are and what you're doing," Noah ground out through clenched teeth.
"If I'm wearing a tracker, then you are wearing a tracker!" Marcella snarled defiantly, not believing for one moment that he would agree to such a thing himself.
"Fine with me," he shrugged. "Unlike you, I've got nothing to hide," he challenged her. "We can both wear one for the remainder of the agreement."
"So, you don't trust me at all, then?" Marcella glared at him. She'd already told him what she was doing and hoping for from this contact. What more did he expect from her? Yet she couldn't fault him for his honesty with her questions when they made their agreement.
"I trust you about the same amount as you trust me," Noah said, unfazed by her outburst, and pulled a small leather satchel from his belongings then began rifling through the contents. "How squeamish are you?" he asked, so casually that Marcella frowned at the change of topic.
"Not at all," she said, as if dismissing the comment.
"Good. Because subdermal trackers are better. I'll do you, then you can do me. Then I'll help you download the app to track me," he said, standing up with two small blue capsules in his hand, a small scalpel blade sealed in a sterile packet, a few swabs and some small flesh coloured bandages.
"Subdermal?" Marcella's eyes widened as they went from the items in his hands to his face. "You're not slicing me open!"
"It's a nick, Stevie, and the only way that you are going to that meeting tomorrow without me by your side. Well, me or a couple of watchmen ready to take you back to the hospital to be checked over after your accident," he said, trying to hold back a smirk.
"What if I am squeamish about being sliced and diced?" she questioned, not wanting to admit that she was baulking at this.
"You said you weren't. 'Not at all' were your words," Noah said and raised an eyebrow.
"That was before I knew that you planned to give me a new scar!" she said, incredulously.
"Well, this is the best and most foolproof way, but if you want to be a girl about it," he turned back to his satchel, hiding his smirk as he reached for the alternative trackers. He knew that he could halve the fighting time by offering the worst scenario, and then giving her a softer alternative. He turned and showed her a small gold slave bracelet in its box with the small tool to fix it onto her arm and ensure it couldn't be removed unless he removed from her. There was a similar platinum one that could sit beside his watch, unobtrusively, that she could put on him.
"You may not have noticed, but I happen to be a girl. It's not a sign of weakness to not want someone slicing my skin open, like foreplay from a serial killer." She rolled her eyes. "I'll take the bracelet," she sighed, trying not to shudder as she forced away the horrific memories, while she looked at the scalpel blade still lying on the table like a snake ready to strike.
"Alright," Noah nodded, seeing the look on her face and putting the other items out of sight. He was relieved as she visibly relaxed once he had returned the offending items to the satchel. The idea that her doctor uncle may have harmed her in some way with a similar blade made him feel ill and an uneasy silence developed between them as he calmed his own angry, stomach-twisting nausea so that he didn't say something he would regret.
"I wish that you would just trust me," Marcella sighed as she sank into the chair at the small dining table he indicated.
"Would you believe that I do trust you? It's these contacts of yours that I have concerns about," he said in a serious, quiet voice, as he picked up her hand and placed the two halves of the bracelet around her wrist, before proceeding to tighten the specialised screws in place. He felt as if an electrical charge skittered and crackled in the air around them as he held her hand, but if she felt anything at all besides frustration with his lack of trust, she didn't show it. Once it was done, he placed the tool back into the box and slid the second box, holding his bracelet, across the table and held out his wrist to her.
"You're squeamish?" she asked acerbically, picking up the box and looking at the plain platinum band. It wasn't that she wanted to use the scalpel blade on Noah but more that she wanted him to admit that he wasn't happy about being cut either.
"This agreement of ours is all about being fair and staying together. What's good enough for you is good enough for me, and I will do what you want within those parameters. Why? Do you want to practise some serial killer foreplay on me?" he asked with a smirk, using her own words back at her.
"No!" she snapped, a little too quickly, and pulled the two halves of the bracelet from the box and proceeded to fumble through the procedure of trying to hold the halves together as she used the tool to tighten the screws, making the bracelet whole.
