To Command And Collar

The distance had seemed interminable, almost as long as the preceding weeks. When he’d been released from the hospital, he’d returned to a house as empty and cold as if in the far north. He tried watching the waves, searching for the solace she’d always received from her time on the beach. All he found were memories of her hair streaming back in the wind, her little toes wrinkled from walking barefoot in the surf, her skin smelling of salt air as if he’d caught a mermaid.

He abandoned the shore after a couple of days, the tower room soon after. The dungeon he couldn’t face at all. The kitchen had echoed with her laughter and the memories of sharing meals, her kneeling at his feet to take food from his fingers, pulling her into his lap to get her closer.

He started avoiding his kitchen as well.

When Z and Cullen had showed up unexpectedly and discovered that he’d forgotten to eat that day, Z had been…blunt.

Raoul had flown to a job site in Costa Rica, returning only a couple of days ago. He was doing better. He could get past this and move on.

He frowned at the restroom door. She didn’t look healthy, with dark circles under her eyes and gaunt cheeks. And when they’d seen her, she’d had her arms around her knees, holding herself in a tight ball. She must have talked to the Feds. He hadn’t been there to hold her, to give her a feeling of safety. Anger sparked in him, that Kouros hadn’t told him that she’d be coming.

If she’d wanted him to know she was in Tampa, she knew his phone number.

And seeing him nauseated her. His body felt like a lead robot as he turned to Sam. “I’d better go before she comes back out.”

Sam said a foul word, then nodded reluctantly. “Maybe so. Is tomorrow still on?”

Raoul hesitated, then nodded. He couldn’t cancel the party without hurting little Kari’s feelings. That would be unworthy of a man. “Si.”

On Sunday, he’d return to Costa Rica.

* * * *

Sam watched his friend bow his head and walk away. Tenderhearted bastard. The girl’s reaction had ripped his guts right out. After all Raoul had suffered, he didn’t deserve that crap. What the hell was she thinking?

He stalked over to the women’s restroom, shoved the door open, and walked in. A woman stood at the sink, decorating her face-and doing a lousy job of it. “Out,” Sam snapped.

With a squeak, she fled, leaving her lipstick behind. Sam shook his head. Coward. He had a feeling his redheaded Linda wouldn’t have run. The thought only made him more furious. She had run, in a way. No call. He’d asked Galen about her and seen the answer in the agent’s face. She’d requested no contact from him.

Fine.

The sound of jagged breathing came from the end stall, and Sam pushed the unlatched door open. One little subbie, on her knees, half in tears. Served her right. Trying to ignore the welling of pity, Sam wet a few paper towels. “Wipe your face.”

She jerked at the sound of his voice and obeyed, tried to stand, and failed.

Sam took her arm and yanked her to her feet. Not politely. “Clean up, and I’ll see you in the hallway.”

“I’m fine,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, and she was muddy white.

He frowned as he stepped into the hall. Odd she’d react so violently to Raoul when she’d worried so much about him after he’d been knifed. Had something ugly happened in the hospital?

Unfortunately, she was in no shape to get back to wherever she was staying. Why the hell was she here by herself anyway?

That was his first question when she came out.

“Gabi has appointments,” she answered, looking up and down the hall. “Marcus was in court. They wanted Jessica or one of the others to come with me, but I thought I’d be all right.” She straightened her shoulders. “Vance is planning to return and escort me out. I’m fine now.”

“Sure you are, girl.” He flipped open his phone, called the FBI agent, said, “I’m taking Kim home,” and shut it without waiting for an answer. He took her arm, ignored her trembling, and led her out to the parking lot. She tried to pull away at the taxi stop, and he gave her a stare that stopped her right fast. There were benefits to escorting submissives.

Once he got her in his truck and was safely on the freeway, he asked her the question that had been bothering him. “Did something happen the last time you saw Raoul?”

She looked up from her hands, her brows together. “N-no. He handed me over to my mom and said good- bye.”

“So what the hell happened that the sight of him makes you upchuck?”

“The sight…? You think I was sick because of Master R?” She stared at him.

Was the man insane? Kim’s hand curled around the strap of the seatbelt as she frowned at him. How could he think…?

Maybe they hadn’t seen the people leaving the courtroom behind them. Probably hadn’t even heard that oily voice-it wasn’t as if they’d painfully learned to pay attention to every nuance in it. “The Overseer came out of a room behind you. He spoke.” She shuddered, and her stomach roiled queasily. “I saw him.” Bandages…because his eyes… She tried to swallow.

“Hell no. Take a breath, girl.” Sam flipped the air-conditioning to high. “You puke in my truck, and I’ll wallop your hide, no matter what Raoul says.”

The air-and the snap in his voice-wiped away the memories and settled her stomach. Her hands unclenched. Then her brain kicked in. “You thought seeing Master R made me sick? God, Sam, did he think that too?”

“Yep.”

“Oh no.”

“You planning to see him while you’re here?” Sam asked, his fingers tapping impatiently on the wheel as the traffic slowed, horns blaring.

“I…” She sighed. Her flight out on Saturday had been a compromise. Rather than leaving today, she’d left herself time to call him this evening…if she decided to. “I’ve changed my mind so many times I’m dizzy. I want to see him so…so…” So badly that her insides went all quivery at the thought. “Then I remember he wants a-a”-not a slave, he’d said-“a full-time submissive. Not me.”

“You didn’t like serving him?” Sam asked easily, as if his question was no more important than asking if she liked Chinese food.

“I…” Yes. “Dammit, no. I was pretending.” I’m a bedroom submissive. No more. She stared out the window at the cars in the next lane. Old man-probably retired here. A married couple with young children-vacationers.

“Pretty good pretense, subbie,” he said, his voice level. “You looked contented as a cat in cream sitting at his feet.”

The stab slashed painfully, and she scowled. “Well, I lo-like him. A lot. That doesn’t mean I want to…to slave for him.”

Sam snorted. “Missy, when I pick a woman to scene with, I don’t choose a lightweight who enjoys a widdle spanking. I pick a masochist who wants what I can give her. I look for someone whose need for pain matches my need to give it.”

“I-”

“Shut up, girl.” He switched to the fast lane to get around a slow semi and returned to the middle lane. “A master like Raoul looks for a woman whose need to serve and submit matches his need to protect and take command. It’s a balancing act, missy, and in the best relationships, the master is as involved as the submissive. If you hadn’t loved being at his feet, neither one of you would have looked happy.”

Had Master R been content?

“So you ask yourself this: being under Raoul’s command and serving him, did it fill a need inside you? Make you feel whole when you might have not even realized something was lacking until then?”

“I-”