Five Stars (Desire Island Series Book 5)

by Claire Thompson

  “Yes,” she said, nodding with determination. “That last morning, he’d tied me by the hair to a hook in his study ceiling. He did that sometimes, so he could reach over and fondle me while he was working at his desk. Like with everything, it was sexy at first—very Story of O-like.”

  Color rose up her cheeks and she ran a hand over her face, clearly mortified by her confession. But then, through what was obviously a sheer act of will, she forced herself to continue. “That day, he had some errands to run. He had a bunch of boxes of stuff he was returning to the post office. I begged him to let me down before he left, but he said that, no, he liked the idea of thinking of me there waiting for him like that, and that I’d be just fine. He left my hands free and told me I could masturbate if I wanted to, to pass the time. Then, he left, leaving me alone in the house.

  “That’s when I noticed the pair of scissors he’d left on his desk, along with the packing tape. After a lot of awkward maneuvering, I managed to get the scissors to the edge of the desk with my foot. Then I was able to reach them with my hand, though it felt like I was tugging my hair out of my scalp.

  “Once I had the scissors, I tried to cut the rope that was wound in my hair, but it was too thick and I couldn’t get a good angle. Time was passing and I was sweating bullets, afraid he’d return at any moment and catch me in the act.

  “Finally, desperate, I just started cutting my hair, shearing it any which way in an effort to get free. And I did it! I managed to get myself loose, leaving my hair hanging in the rope in a tangled mess. Panicked and thrilled, I raced up the stairs and grabbed some clothes from the bureau in the guest bedroom where I’d initially put my things. My purse was tucked into a bottom drawer, and I grabbed that too.

  “I flew down the stairs and through the back hall to the garage, where my old VW Bug was parked next to Brandon’s second car. I pushed the garage door opener and rushed to my car. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely get the key into the ignition. Thank god the old clunker started. I was terrified he’d come home before I could get away.

  “But all remained clear as I backed out and down the driveway. My sister, Malia, the one I’m closest to in both age and friendship, lives in Portland too, though on the other side of town. I’m so glad I never told him where she lived. Thank god she was home that morning. She’s a nurse like my mom and she sometimes works the night shift. Anyway, she took one look at me with my hair hacked off and my face streaked with tears, and pulled me in the house, just holding me while I sobbed.”

  “Thank goodness you had someone to turn to,” Adam said. “Did you call the police? Have this guy arrested?” Even as he asked the question, he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

  “No,” she admitted, confirming his conjecture. “I was ashamed. I’d entered willingly into the Master/slave relationship. I didn’t want to put my family through me having to testify against this guy. Portland may be a big city in some ways, but when it comes to things like the BDSM community, the population remains painfully provincial and uninformed. I could just imagine the nasty snickering that would go on at the police station once I’d filed my report, not to mention on the reservation. My mom would be humiliated.

  “Malia wanted me to get some guys together from the tribe to go beat him up. But I didn’t want any of that. Violence begets violence, and I was done with it all. I just wanted to put it behind me, and when she understood that, she let it go.

  “Malia took me to a hairdresser to get what was left of my hair styled.” Shani gave a small laugh, amending, “Well, not really styled. It was too hacked up for a style. But once she’d sort of evened it up, I found I kind of liked it super short. It was a totally different look to go with the new me—the me who would never let herself be fooled or bullied again.

  “Malia was great, letting me stay at her place as long as I needed. I started looking around for job opportunities but I really wasn’t up for working in retail. Options are pretty limited when you only have a high school diploma from a reservation school. I found the Desire Island job totally by accident. I was on Malia’s computer one day looking through want ads, and I got frustrated and bored and started scrolling around various BDSM sites for a distraction. And I saw this advertisement about the place, and it sounded like heaven on earth. I knew I’d never be able to afford to go there as a guest, but then I saw in very small print at the bottom a section about job opportunities. I applied and, amazingly, got an interview and got the job! Master Ryan and Mistress Ella know I had a bad experience because I didn’t want to lie on the questionnaire, but they’ve always respected my privacy. They’re great that way. No judgments.”

  Adam took her hand once more. “I hope you know I don’t judge you either. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to feel so powerless at the hands of an abuser. I’m truly in awe of you, Princess.” He kissed her again, gently at first, and then with more passion.

  When they finally parted, she laughed, a bright, ringing sound of pure joy. “Thank you for listening. I feel—I don’t know—I feel so light. Like I just put down a huge weight I hadn’t even realized I was lugging around.”

  Adam nodded. “It’s got to feel good—to get that off your shoulders. Secrets like that can be very heavy loads to bear. Thank you for trusting me. I think you’re amazing, Shani. I bet the Shani in the folktale was the most heroic of them all.”

  Shani laughed again, her face radiant. “Don’t let my sisters hear you say that.” She sat up straighter and closed her window. “Now, we better get going. Mama makes the best frybread in the state, and it’s been way too long since I tasted it.”

  Chapter 9

  Adam stood back as five women rushed out of the small house set on a tiny plot of land. They raced down the set of stairs that led from the wraparound porch. The women were tall and graceful like Shani, but, unlike Shani, they all had long hair, thick and shining in the noon sun.

  The oldest, who must be Shani’s mom, had her hair plaited in a long braid down her back. It was, he saw as he moved a little closer, threaded with silver, though her face remained smooth and unlined. All of the girls were pretty, but none as lovely as Shani, though he recognized he was probably biased.

  Shani flew into her mother’s arms and they both began to laugh, cry and talk at once. Nina Youngblood stroked her daughter’s closely cropped hair, a flash of pain moving over her face, though she continued to smile. The four sisters crowded around, and eventually Shani hugged and kissed each one in turn before finally turning back to Adam.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, still laughing, tears on her cheeks. “It’s been so long—too long—since I was home.”

  She looked back to her family, who were all focused on Adam now. “This is Adam Hawk. Adam, meet my mom, Nina Youngblood, and these are my sisters—Kaiah, Malia, Yareli and Chenoa.”

  He moved toward them, greeting and shaking the girls’ hands as they clustered around him. Nina stood a little apart, watching him with a bird-like, inquisitive gaze, as if sizing him up.

  He approached her last and took her hand lightly in his. Her palm was rough and calloused, her grip firm. “Welcome, Adam Hawk,” she said in a deep, calm voice. The hint of a smile lifted her lips, but he sensed her reserve.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Youngblood,” he said.

  She shook her head. “Call me Nina. Thank you for bringing Shani home to us. Please come inside and share a meal.”

  The house was tiny but filled with sunlight. The wood-paneled walls were adorned with woven wall hangings and there were bright throw rugs on the linoleum floor. A hallway led off the main room, presumably leading to the bedrooms. There was a swinging door at the back of the space that, judging from the delicious aromas of fresh bread and roasting vegetables emanating from it, was surely the kitchen.

  The living room contained a sitting area with two mismatched, much-loved old couches and a rocking chair. A tall vase filled with huge yellow sunflowers sat on the coffee table in front of the couch. In
pride of place on the wall hung a studio portrait of a very young couple in Native American garb, possibly still in their teens. The pair were looking straight at the camera with shy, nervous smiles, their posture ramrod stiff. The girl was clearly Shani’s mother. She looked startingly like Shani, save for the eyes, which were rounder and a little closer together. The guy, Shani’s father, was very tall, his skin swarthy, his nose curved like a hawk’s beak, his almond shaped eyes exactly like Shani’s.

  There were framed photos of the girls at various stages of their lives cluttering the end tables and shelves, along with lopsided ceramic mugs and children’s drawings, no doubt made by the girls when they were little. The whole place had a warm, lived-in feel, bursting with love and family.

  How different from his parent’s large, pristine home, with its immaculate white rugs, entire rooms forbidden to little boys with sticky fingers, and the silence at their dinners in the formal dining room. While he’d never felt unloved precisely, he had felt like an inconvenience. One more thing to be scheduled into his parents’ busy calendars, always coming after professional obligations and their busy social life. He’d used to wonder, once he’d left for college, if they’d even noticed his absence. He thought he’d put his childish yearning for parental love away a long time ago. But being in this warm, cluttered space filled with laughter and chatter reawakened the old longing.

  There was a long wooden table at the back of the space by the kitchen. Benches lined either side of the table, a chair at each end. The table was set with brightly painted ceramic dishes, plastic cups and pitchers of what looked like iced-tea and lemonade.

  “Hope you’re hungry,” Malia said to Adam as their mother and the rest of the girls disappeared into the kitchen. She was a little shorter than the other girls, her frame more delicate, a gentle expression in her eyes.

  “Starving,” Adam said, smiling down at her. This was the sister who had taken Shani in when she’d escaped from that bastard’s clutches. While they were alone, and aware he might not have another chance, Adam said, “Shani told me about what happened to her with that guy. And how you were there for her. You’re a wonderful sister and a wonderful friend, Malia.”

  Malia colored slightly, her eyes troubled. “She told you?”

  “She did,” Adam said. “And I want to kill that fucking bastard, excuse my swearing.”

  “No need to apologize,” Malia said with a grin. “May the Great Spirit curse him, my mom would say, if she knew. He hurt my sister. She left us because of him. He stole a piece of her soul. If I’d had my way, I’d have cut off the son of a bitch’s balls and fed them to him.”

  Adam barked a startled laugh. “Well put. If and when I find this guy, I’ll save you the trouble.”

  Malia regarded him with narrowed eyes, clearly appraising him. “Shani looks happy. Her sparkle is back. I can see you’re a good man. Be good to her, okay?” She was smiling, but the underlying warning was clear. No one was going to hurt her sister again.

  “Absolutely,” Adam affirmed, glad this spitfire of a sister was in Shani’s corner. “We’re still new together, but your sister has already captured my heart.”

  Before Malia could reply, the door to the kitchen swung open and the women entered carrying bowls and platters of food. Shani set down a large basket covered by a cloth napkin and gestured to Adam. “Come sit down.”

  As Malia and he moved toward the table, Shani directed, “You sit at this end.”

  As he took his seat, Adam’s mouth watered in anticipation. Shani’s mom sat at the other end. The girls took their places along either side of the table, Shani just to his right, Malia to his left.

  Everyone began passing pitchers, platters, bowls and baskets around the table, filling their plates along the way. Adam chose the lemonade for his drink, which was tart and not overly sweet, just the way he liked it.

  He took more food than he was probably going to be able to eat, but he couldn’t resist—it all looked and smelled so wonderful. There was a hearty vegetable stew comprised of corn, beans and squash in a savory broth, along with sizzling hot fried green tomatoes. The basket contained golden, frisbee-sized discs of deep-fried softly puffed bread. Adam tore off a piece and took a bite, an involuntary moan escaping his lips. “This is delicious,” he enthused. “What is this?”

  “You never had fry bread?” Shani exclaimed with disbelief.

  Adam shook his head. “Everything is so delicious. But this bread—man, I can’t get enough of it. It’s so flavorful. And I love the texture. Warm and crispy on the outside and chewy inside. I could eat that entire basket.”

  Nina smiled, clearly pleased.

  “It’s one of the first things Mama taught all us girls to cook,” Shani said, smiling at her mom, who beamed back at her. “It’s just flour, salt, baking powder and water, deep-fried in shortening, but there’s a secret ingredient that makes Mama’s the best.”

  “That’s right,” Chenoa, the youngest of the girls, piped up. “Mama taught us you need to say a special prayer so it comes out soft and delicious. You have to put good thoughts into it because you’re feeding your family.”

  “Yep,” the girl Adam was pretty sure was named Yareli added, “You don’t want to cook if you’re angry or upset because that will get into the food. You need to be happy and loving when you make fry bread.”

  “But don’t eat too much,” Malia cautioned. “This is our biggest meal of the day, and you’ll want to save room for the main course.”

  “Good thing I have a hollow leg,” Adam said with a laugh. “Bring it on.”

  The main course was skillet-fried, crusted catfish covered in a deliciously seasoned cornmeal batter with a touch of heat. The side dish was a cold salad made with brown rice, cranberries, green onions and various greens he couldn’t quite identify, lightly coated in a simple but delicious herb dressing that had a touch of sweetness.

  The girls talked and laughed during the meal, updating Shani on her niece and nephews’ latest accomplishments and mishaps, and plying her with questions about her life on the island. Shani handled the barrage well, giving them a G-rated version of her life, with a focus on the sense of community and the amenities of the beach resort rather than her BDSM-themed job as a staff slave.

  They grilled Adam on his career, his background, and yes, his intentions toward their sister. Interestingly, Nina stayed mostly silent, her eyes moving from Shani to him as she listened to his answers. Adam, taking Shani’s cue, left the BDSM out of the equation as he talked. He told them about his leather work and how it had led him to travel all over the world, selling his wares and learning new techniques. He told them about his latest adventure in Australia, where he’d studied with artisans of an Aboriginal tribe known for its beautiful leather dyes.

  As he talked, Shani took his hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. He met her gaze with a smile. He was grateful she’d included him in this family reunion, and all the more furious at that bullying asshole who’d made her feel she needed to flee from all she’d loved. Though, if that hadn’t happened, he’d never have met her. While he’d only known her a short time, he could no longer imagine a life without her in it.

  Though he didn’t think he could eat another bite, yet more food was brought after the main course. Dessert included blackberry pudding and a sweet cornmeal pudding delicately flavored with molasses and cinnamon that was one of the best things Adam had ever tasted in his life.

  Finally, stuffed to the gills, he pushed back from the table, putting his hands on his stomach. “I’ve eaten all kinds of food all over the world, and I’m telling you sincerely, Nina,” he said, smiling down the table at Shani’s mom, “your cooking rivals that of the top chefs out there. Thank you so much for allowing me into your lovely home. I’m truly honored by your kindness and generosity.”

  Her smile was broader now, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s a good boy you have, Shani,” she said in her deep, calm voice, nodding slowly. The girls
quieted around the table, all eyes now on Nina, who clearly still held considerable sway over her adult daughters. “I can see he has not only a good appetite, but a good heart, yeah? It’s good to see you happy again, daughter. The light has come back into your eyes. The time for mourning and grief is over. Maybe now you can let your beautiful hair grow once more, along with the love in your heart.”

  Chapter 10

  After the meal, they all moved out to the wraparound porch to relax and enjoy the fresh air. Within a few minutes, Kaiah and Yareli’s husbands, George and Jacy, showed up with the kids in tow. Kaiah’s twin boys, Dakota and Jalen, shot out of the old pickup truck and hurtled up to the porch as Shani got excitedly to her feet.

  The boys, now aged ten, must have grown a foot since she’d seen them the year before. She hugged them both at once while they chattered excitedly about the milkshakes they’d had at McDonalds and what positions they played on their Little League team. Meanwhile, Jacy helped his and Yareli’s three-year-old daughter, Naira, up the stairs, holding her pudgy hand in his as she took the steps one at a time.

  Shani crouched down in front of the sweet little girl, so excited to see how big she’d gotten. When she reached out to hug her, Naira pulled away and buried her face shyly against her father’s leg. She no longer remembered her Aunt Shani. The realization broke Shani’s heart a little. Why had she stayed away for so long?

  No more, she silently promised herself. I won’t let that bully keep me from my family any longer. I’m done running. I’m done hiding.

  They got to the event center about an hour before the doors would be opened to the public. They parked in the back lot, which already contained quite a few cars. Adam looked smoking hot in a pale green long-sleeved T-shirt that picked up the deep green of his eyes. He wore it over form-fitting black leather pants and black, square-toed boots. Shani had on her favorite red leather minidress that zipped up the front, her body bare beneath it, her feet shod in her red cowboy boots.