what?”
“I’m moving back into my apartment.” Beth took a step back, then crossed her arms and raised her chin.
The signs that she was getting back to normal pleased him, but she sure as hell didn’t have to go this far to prove she was feeling better. It had only been a couple of weeks.
She bit her lip, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
He held her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, remembering how she’d hugged Cullen. Did he look that bad? “Okay, sugar, tell me why.”
Her arms tightened. “I need to know that I can live on my own. I-I love being here with you, and I don’t want to go, but I have to.”
“Gutsy rabbit.” He could understand the need. He’d grown up in a family that firmly believed in the “face your fears” technique. But how did a man deal with the need to stand in front of a little rabbit and protect her from those fears?
“Not all that gutsy. It’s just, well, if I stay with you because I’m scared to be alone, well…that isn’t much of a relationship.”
She had a point. He wanted to ask her what kind of a relationship she thought they had, but didn’t. After meeting her sick fuck of a husband, he wasn’t about to put any pressure on her. When she was ready to let him know how she felt, she’d tell him. Although it felt like he might be old and gray before that happened.
He rubbed his cheek in her soft hair and inhaled her strawberry fragrance. He’d have to get her to plant a bed of strawberries so he could mash them against… “You know, I have a lot of kinky things I still want to do to you. You gonna be available?”
She giggled, a husky chuckling sound that lifted his mood. “You’re the Master. All you have to do is tell me to be, right?”
Wasn’t it a shame it didn’t really work like that. His power over her lasted only as long as they both wanted it to, and no longer. “Well then.” He could feel the healing scabs under her shirt and could feel how tense her muscles were. Going back to a place she’d been attacked couldn’t be easy. Maybe he’d just help her over the first hurdle. “I have a craving to see how loud I can make you scream in a tiny apartment. You have an apartment I can use tonight, sugar?”
Under his fingers, the long muscles of her back slowly loosened. “You know, I just happen to have one available.” She rubbed her forehead against his shoulder and whispered, “Thank you, Master.”
Nolan glanced at the cage in the corner. The male sub looked miserable but in no real physical distress. He strolled past and down to the next station where a Dom was securing his sub in the stockade. Tears already ran down her cheeks although the cane at the Dom’s feet hadn’t been used yet. She’d probably be a screamer.
Nolan stopped to scan the crowd around the door and the bar. No Beth yet. Where the hell was she?
A lesbian couple with the sub in saloon girl garb and the Domme in a very risque sheriff’s outfit walked past, and Nolan eyed the sheriff’s bare legs appreciatively. Old West Night at the Shadowlands was one of his favorite themes; he was Texan, after all.
He shoved his Stetson back and slowed to check the whipping post that Z had brought out just for tonight. Using a whip in the main room meant roping off extra space to keep from nailing spectators by accident. Dressed in outlaw black, Sam had Deborah tied to the post. Nolan stopped to enjoy for a minute. The old sadist was a real master with that black snake whip of his. Deborah was already up on tiptoes and well on her way to subspace.
Nolan scanned the room again. No Beth. He’d planned to pick her up, but she’d called to say she was running late, and Z had asked him to monitor the main room. Well, if she got cold feet, he’d just have to go out to her apartment and fetch her.
She’d been living there for a week now and damned if he didn’t miss her more than he thought possible. He’d joined her for her first two nights there, and then had let her go it alone. Sure, he still saw her every day, joining her for supper or lunch, occasionally tossing her onto that miniature apartment bed and fucking her senseless. But he wanted her back in his home, padding around in one of his shirts that dwarfed her, arguing with him about how strong a pot of coffee should be, draping that trim little body over him while they watched the evening news. Her laughter…her teasing…her enthusiasm… When she’d moved out, his house had turned as gloomy as if winter had arrived.
He wanted her back.
Did she want to come back? She wasn’t sharing how she felt. Gratitude, sure, she didn’t have a problem telling him all about that.
But what she felt for him was a hell of a lot more than mere gratitude. He knew that. Did she?
Or was the little rabbit just having trouble getting the words out? Talking about her feelings still came hard to her. Of course, it was a Dom’s duty to help little subs past mental blocks like that.
Another scan of the room, and he found her. He grinned, pleasure filling him at the sight. Now that was an outfit. High-heeled black boots, black leather chaps, a shiny blue G-string. The fringe from a matching blue bustier danced over the creamy skin of her stomach and concealed the fading pink scar. Her hair was in two stubby braids.
Nolan glanced at his watch. His time had been up for a good ten minutes. Then again, Olivia never showed up on time. He spotted the Domme at the bar, caught her eye, and tapped his watch. She nodded and sauntered over to take the flashlight from him.
“No problems,” he told her.
“And you have things to do.” Smirking, she slapped his shoulder. “I saw your sub come in. She looks hot.”
He grinned and gave her a warning look at the same time. “Mine, Olivia. Hands off.”
“Oh, I already tried hands-on a month ago. She doesn’t walk on my side of the street… More’s the pity.”
Ben had liked her outfit, Beth told herself as she moved toward the bar. The thought didn’t help much. Her stomach still felt like she’d swallowed a mess of worms. Knowing her abuse was common knowledge made her feel more exposed than stripping her clothes off and walking around naked.
And yet, she’d missed being here, missed the driving music, the sound of sobbing and whips, sex and pain. The scent of leather and latex and perfume. And the costumes tonight… She grinned in delight. Even the most conservative of Doms-the ones who wore suits-had added cowboy hats. The majority of subs favored saloon girl outfits, some of which mixed oddly with spiked green hair and Goth makeup.
The appreciative glances coming her way bolstered her confidence as she searched for Nolan. Surely he’d be done with his dungeon monitor chores by now. Not in sight. Dodging around various groups of people, she made her way to the bar.
Cullen spotted her and abandoned whatever drink he was making. “Little Beth!” He leaned a muscular arm on the bar, and his warm gaze ran over her. “You look good, love. Wish I’d been there to lend Nolan a hand.”
She smiled at him, pleasure running through her. Another friend. “Thanks, Sir. Can you tell me where Master Nolan is?”
“Turning over his DM duties to the compulsively late Olivia.” He tilted his head. “Want a drink? And this time tell me what you’d really like. I bet it’s not a screwdriver.”
“Irish whiskey. Bushmill’s single malt if you have it.”
He roared a laugh. “Pint-sized sub takes her liquor straight, hold the water. Coming right up, pet.”
After he set her drink in front of her, she sipped it slowly, enjoying the smooth burn.
“Hi.” A man in black latex jeans and a long-sleeved latex jacket slid onto the bar stool beside her. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new?”
“Not exactly.”
A hand closed on her bare arm. She almost jerked away before she recognized the grip. Nolan.
“Now here’s a cute little western girl,” he said softly. His dark eyes heated as his gaze ran over her, lingering on her G-string. “Well worth the wait.”
