Chapter 02: Daughter of Syn
I ease my bike in next to Todd's antique car and shut it down. The lack of vibration from the big motor between my legs comes as a sudden disappointment, even though I knew it was about to happen.
Running my gloves over the goose bumps on my bare legs,shivering at the feel of my hands, in lace, on cold skin. I squeeze my breast in the satin bra, my nipples are painfully hard from the cold wind. I love the feeling.
Lifting my helmet off, I place it between the handlebars, I pull my goggles down. They bump my collar with a leather on leather sound. With reluctance I peal my naked sex off the tank. I can see the line of moisture where it was. I smile as I settle my skirts.
I undo the knot and pull my scarf from my head and stuff it into the inside of the helmet. I place my goggles there as well.
Looking in the window of Todd's car I use it as a mirror to adjust my hair. A glint of red light flashes my eyes as the setting sun slips from behind a billboard.
I pull my Gargoyles from my clutch purse. I also take out my ring.
I slip the most prized item of jewelry I have ever had onto my finger. Not even the silver and diamond ring on my other hand truly means as much to me. I lift the blade into the dying sun light, again mesmerized by the play of light and shadows through the engraved surface.
The sun's reflection distracts me from what could have been a long session of enraptured gazing. I place my sunglasses on my nose and turn towards the iron gates. I stop and remember the gift on the back of my bike.
As I lift the roses from the seat box I see again the wet spot I left on the tank. I caress it, thanking my 'Ninja' lover for the pleasure he gave me.
My heels clicking on the stone walk as I go through the large gates and walk with no distraction to the shrine of my saint.
I drop to my knees in front of the rose enshrouded stone of white marble. Placing the half dozen roses next to it, I trace my silvery ring across the letters of her name. My deadly Elizabeth. The woman for which I was named.
Beth.
The name I rejected.
I feel it dropping away from me as I kneel in the sun warmed grass, smelling the rose perfume. I feel Baethny settle about my shoulder with a feeling not unlike the lace jacket that I wear.
It's the Daughter in Syn that arises from before the grave of a murderess. It's 'the Daughter' as they call me here that walks through the hanging chains into 'Sanctuary'. My club, my place of business. My home.
I can smell the various scents as I pass the rooms going to where I know Syn will be. Leather predominates, but hidden among it, masked by it, is the old smell. The smell that was here the first day we came to look at the property.
They say you never can truly get out the smell of decay.
Who would want to hide so sweet a perfume?
I see my Syn by the bar as I step into the chapel. Incense wafts in slowly drifting spirals from the bowls. The smell of burning candles.
And death. Even here, in this place of old worship. If you know what your smelling it's there.
I feel his eyes on me; I lift my glasses from my face and meet his gaze for a second then look down. The proper lady in the presence of her husband. I feel my hair cover my face. I can feel his eyes on me as I stand still for his inspection.
I only glance up when I hear music. I know this will be a good night when three of my favorites begin to play together. Like rowdy children they seem to squabble till Tina brings them all into order with her power.
I watch him move. Encased in black leather pants and a charcoal gray shirt my Syn is beautiful to behold. His hair, a stark white, falls to mid back, held back from his face with a bit of leather from one of the broken whips. I remember the night I broke the thong across his back in my excitement. He was whipped bloody yet totally in control of me that night.
He hands me my glass. I lift it to my nose and shiver as the sexy smell floods my senses. I smile as He offers a silent toast.
I drink half of mine in three quick sips. The weight of the day settling onto me again in his presence. I set down my glass and go to him. I feel his powerful hands on my shoulders holding me in his protective embrace. The feel of the linen shirt under my face distracts me. I want bare skin.
He lifts my face and places a soft kiss upon my lips, then a second harder one, his tongue demanding entrance. I give it, but feel my blood rise at the presumption.
As I step back from him I rest my ring on his cheek and slowly slide the edge of the blade across his skin. I leave not a scratch. I cut only when I mean too.
I send a button to the floor. Then another. Then all the rest. I slip his shirt free to fall and hang from his waist, like black discarded skin.
