They spent another twenty or thirty minutes discussing plans for the Alive Day before Damián said, “I really appreciate this, Dad. You put things into perspective for me.”
“You know I’m always here for you. You’re my family.”
Something for which Damián would never be able to adequately express his gratitude. “Who did you go to when you were figuring out how to be a better Dom?”
“We all have our mentors. My buddy Jerry in LA was a big help.”
Damián wouldn’t ask if he still needed to go to someone for advice. Dad seemed to have it all together, at least as far as how to be a Dom. Like Damián, though, the man had his own demons to face.
As he left the house, he hoped he could make some breakthroughs with Savannah and give her back the inner strength to be completely honest with him. What was she afraid of? She had to know he’d never harm, leave, or abandon her.
Didn’t she?
Chapter Seven
“I really appreciate you staying with the kids tonight, Cassie,” Savannah said as she placed another plate in the dishwasher in Karla’s kitchen.
“It is my pleasure. And with Teresa and Marisol here to help, I am sure we will have everything under control. You just go and have a good time.”
Savannah tried to still the vultures of doom threatening to erupt in her stomach. She couldn’t get out of spending this night at the Masters at Arms Club. She’d had an excuse not to go every time in the past few weeks when Damián had suggested they should, but she couldn’t very well keep him away if the guys were planning some kind of cathartic session talking about Fallujah and its aftermath. Eight years ago today, Damián and Marc had nearly been killed. Their surviving needed to be celebrated.
But what if she suffered more flashbacks or triggers tonight in front of Damián? They came out of the blue these days, as if her mind had opened a door to make her face those horrific days from her past. Most of these memories wouldn’t even be admissible in the trial, because the DA said she would only be able to focus on her mother’s and John Grainger’s murders and last spring’s kidnapping. So why were flashbacks about that final year as Gentry’s slave and her childhood abuse by him surfacing now? What good would it do to remember those times he’d never be charged with?
To ramp up her anticipation, Damián refused to tell her what they’d be doing together tonight as far as scening, although he did say he wanted to work on preparing her for the trial. Whatever that meant. He loved to mess with her mind. Her therapist had been talking with them about using hypnosis at home, and Damián had joined in a few sessions at counseling to learn more. He’d even gone on to be mentored by someone doing BDSM with hypnosis this past week. What did he have planned for her?
Anticipation, Damián called it. Unsure if she could get excited for him the way she used to, she just saw it as one more thing to dread.
Karla placed a detergent pod in the door’s compartment and closed the dishwasher. “I’m so glad tonight came together so well on such short notice. I know it means a lot to Adam, and I’m sure everyone’s going to get something out of it.” She turned to Megan. “And we really appreciate that you and Ryder are joining us. Ryder was affected by that awful day, too.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” Megan said. “I think he’s going to find healing tonight, too.”
“I just hope it won’t be too weird that we’re dragging you two into a dungeon when you aren’t into the lifestyle.”
Megan glanced away, seemingly biting back a grin. Savannah remembered her first thoughts about BDSM—anything but positive.
“It’s going to be interesting, but Ryder and I aren’t prudes. Maybe we’ll learn a thing or two, not that our love life needs any more spice.”
Savannah experienced a pang of regret. Ryder and Megan had been married shortly before she had been, but because Savannah had let her past invade the bedroom, she’d placed a damper on the level of intimacy enjoyed with Damián. She hoped tonight would show Damián that she still found him desirable and wanted to rekindle that part of their relationship.
“So when Cassie assured me you wouldn’t need me to babysit,” Megan said, “since the kids will be asleep for the most part, I jumped at the chance. Mostly for Ryder, of course.”
Karla turned to her Peruvian friend. “We’re grateful to have you babysit, Cassie.”
Cassie grinned. “I much prefer babysitting to what you all have planned. Besides, it would not be right going to a place like that without Luke.” Her husband of a few months had stayed behind at his and Ryder’s ranch two hours west of Denver to tend their horses, alpacas, and sundry pets.
“If not for being there for Marc tonight,” Angelina said, “I’d be tempted to stay with you, Cassie, and spoil those adorable babies.”
“Don’t worry, Angelina,” Savannah said. “Your day will come soon enough.” She and Marc had been talking about a June wedding next year, although both seemed so busy she didn’t know how much planning they’d actually done. Marc’s EMT training and Angelina’s new restaurant consumed most of their time.
“Thanks again for dinner, Angelina,” Savannah said, stroking her belly when the baby kicked her. “You’re a fabulous chef. I wish I could do more than operate a crock pot.”
“You know I love to cook any chance I can. And it’s been great doing so in here again.” This had been Marc’s house until he’d sold it to Adam and Karla just before the babies were born. Marc had later moved in with Angelina in Aspen Corners, near Breckenridge.
“I could watch you whipping up your dishes in here all day,” Savannah said. “I learn new tricks every time.”
“Come to my restaurant sometime,” Angelina offered. “I reserve a table in the kitchen for my wannabe chefs where you can pick up even more ideas.”
Cassie added, “Luke, Ryder, Megan, and I have been going there to eat once a week since it opened—sometimes in the regular dining room and sometimes in the kitchen. It would be even more fun to have the whole family together out there again.”
Everyone in this group truly had bonded as one big happy family all because of those who had served in Iraq together. Damián had told her Luke had joined the fold when he’d done renovations on the Masters at Arms Club before it opened. With Adam and Grant’s help, Megan had brought Ryder in as well. He’d isolated himself for too long out in the high desert of New Mexico. And now Luke and Ryder were in business together. Amazing how they all fit together.
Everyone had each other’s backs no matter their differences of opinion on various issues. Not something one saw very much these days.
But Savannah hadn’t gotten to know Marc and Angelina as well as the others. They rarely came to Denver. Tonight, however, a love of each other and a little bondage would strengthen their ties to each other. Not that she expected to be restrained herself. Her OB had cautioned them about unsafe play for the duration of her pregnancy.
“Just say the word, Angie, and we’ll come to Breckenridge.” Karla patted Savannah’s belly. “But we’d better not wait too long. This one will be on travel restrictions soon.”
Talk of travel threw a wet blanket over Savannah’s mood again. “Actually, Doctor Palmer gave me the okay to fly to San Diego for the trial in three weeks, provided there are no complications between now and then. It’s early enough in my third trimester that she doesn’t anticipate any emergencies, but I’ll have to be careful to remember to walk often, even during the short flight, and to drink lots of water, which will be fun on this bladder.” She laughed without any humor.
Karla nodded her understanding. “At least flying should be more comfortable than all those hours in a car, the way Adam and I went out for your wedding. Especially if Damián is as bad as Adam and makes you stop and pee at every cactus.” She smiled, shaking her head. “It’s so nice not to have him freaking out over every breath I take anymore. Now he has to spread his worrying out over me and three babies.”
Angelina put away the last of
the remaining ingredients she’d used tonight, most of which she’d brought with her. “He’s taken to those babies like a natural, considering he didn’t have any experience with kids before.”
Savannah couldn’t agree more. “I could tell he’d be fine the first time I watched him outside playing with Mari in the snow when we moved into the club earlier this year. Adam loves you and your babies more than life itself, Karla.”
Karla sighed. “Oh, I know how incredibly lucky I am. I just like to remind him every now and then that I’m capable of doing things for myself.” Out of the blue, Karla wrapped an arm around Savannah and squeezed her tight. “I hate that you’re having to deal with that asshole and the trial at a time like this, Savannah. You should be focused solely on your baby and your family right now.”
Savannah felt the eyes of everyone in the room boring in on her and came so close to sharing with them what was going on in her head, but if she couldn’t talk to Damián about it, she didn’t feel right confiding with them.
“How are you holding up?” Karla asked.
Savannah shrugged. “I won’t pretend it’s not hard. I’ll just be glad when it’s over.”
The other women expressed their empathy and support, although she feared she saw a little pity in their eyes as well.
Cassie, usually so quiet, spoke up then. “Savannah, simply tell your story. Justice will prevail, and he will at last be held accountable for the despicable things he did to you.” She took a shaky breath. “And when you are on the stand, find a focal point that will help you avoid eye contact with him. Center yourself. Keep visualizing that moment when he will be found guilty and put away where he can never do harm to you again.”
Cassie had brought her rapists to justice in Peru only a few months ago. She was probably the only person in this room who could understand what Savannah had been through. Overcome with intense emotion, Savannah blinked back tears as she crossed the room and embraced her for a long moment. “Thanks, Cassie. I hope I’m as strong as you have been.”
“I am sure you will be even stronger. And Damián will give you additional strength as well. Let him take care of you. Pamper you. Love you.”
Even more determined than ever to make tonight special with the man she loved, Savannah said, “I will.”
“Group hug,” Karla announced, and the other women joined them. Savannah felt the collective strength of the women in this circle of friends. She wouldn’t be alone in this. When they broke up, several of the women, including Savannah, brushed away tears.
Karla set the dishwasher’s dial and started it before turning to Cassie again. “We’re going to be late. I think you know where everything is. You’ve been here often enough. Just make yourself at home, and if there’s any emergency, text Grant. She’s tending bar tonight, for old time’s sake, and she’ll be keeping her phone on and with her.”
The Domme had been running the club ever since Adam turned it over to her this past spring when he moved his family into this house. Adam and Damián stepped in whenever needed because they were still co-owners, but Marc seemed to have removed himself from the club after moving two hours away to be closer to Angelina.
Savannah wondered if the two of them had found a dungeon in the Breckenridge area to play at. Damián’s whip mentor, Gunnar Larson, had a private one near there. The whip master had invited Damián to visit a number of times over the summer, but they’d been too busy to go. Perhaps if they took Angelina up on her offer to dine at her restaurant, they could stay over at Cassie’s or Megan’s and check the place out. Not so much because Savannah wanted another place to play, but Gunnar intrigued her. She’d like to figure out what made him tick.
None of her business, though, whether Marc and Angelina played publicly or only in the bedroom these days. The strain she’d seen between them last winter and spring had disappeared, which was all that mattered. Their new log home was half-built in a secluded valley with great views of the mountains they said, somewhere near Cassie and Luke’s. With the wedding supposedly a mere six months away and winter upon them, the house might not be ready in time. But they seemed happier than ever, despite the stress of their careers at the moment.
Tonight, these four couples would gather at the club for a chance to reminisce and enjoy a private play party. Damián had left before the table had been cleared, saying he needed to get their play station ready. Was he planning to have a public or private scene with her? They could very well be using one of the theme rooms they had frequented in the past.
The only question in her mind was how much clothing she’d be permitted to wear once she got there. Probably not much, based on how he’d asked her to dress—thong, wraparound skirt, tank top with bra insert, and his leather jacket. Last night, he’d asked Mari to paint each of Savannah’s toenails in a rainbow of colors. Her little girl had enjoyed doing that, and had painted her own as well. Mari must think she had the coolest mom on the block.
If she only knew.
Chapter Eight
Damián had gone to the club early to set up their play area. Knowing she couldn’t lie on her back anymore, he and Dad had come up with the perfect solution—a massage chair. Earlier this week, Grant had shown him what this bad boy could do. He grinned as he tucked the special disposable covering in place, because he intended to make his girl soaking wet later on when they played. Anything to make cleaning up the leather easier so they could move on to better things.
He straightened the implements he’d chosen on the tray near the chair and glanced toward the door. No sign of them yet. Grant was cutting limes at the bar, having promised to keep an eye on things tonight, serving double duty as bartender and dungeon monitor. She’d worry less about that latter role, knowing Damián and the others here tonight wouldn’t be doing anything unsafe.
As a precaution, Damián had already assured Grant that he’d cleared everything with the obstetrician. Having never been pregnant herself, well as far as Damián knew, he didn’t want Grant to question what he was doing or to freak out. Not that he could picture the calm, collected Grant freaking out about anything.
Even in Fallujah, Grant seemed to have had it all under control.
Damián, on the other hand, had struggled to maintain control for years, most especially on this of all days. Yeah, he’d put Fallujah behind him but understood the need to come together as survivors so that they didn’t forget the losses his unit suffered, especially that of Sergeant Miller. And Ryder had suffered alone all these years, until Dad had sent him to check on Megan and a romance took shape. Tonight, they would celebrate the survival spirit of those who bonded in Iraq, and perhaps, they’d all find more healing tonight.
With everything at the ready, he sobered as his thoughts turned to his wife. Savannah probably had a bunch of days after years of torture and abuse where she felt like she could have died. But she had no single anniversary date to commemorate the amazing accomplishment of surviving the cruelty of the cabrón who had fathered her. Day in and day out from the age of eight, Savannah had endured a living nightmare. He needed to find a way to honor her perseverance, resilience, and strength. To have gone through all she had and still be able to escape that Christmas Eve, nineteen and pregnant. To have single-handedly protected their daughter from harm so many times over the years. And to have survived everything those bastards threw at her last March after the kidnapping—where the team had barely arrived in time before the bastardo killed her—fuck yeah, that deserved to be commemorated.
Laughter from the entryway alerted him that the gang had arrived. He draped a cloth over his station on the stage so as not to tip Savannah off yet as to what he had in mind.
Damián grinned as he crossed the great room to greet Savannah and the couples. But his gaze quickly zeroed in on his wife, who had removed her shoes but not his leather jacket. It looked so fucking hot on her with her red tank tee peeking out. He wrapped his arm around her waist in a blatantly possessive move, pulling her to his side and kissing her on t
he forehead. “I’ve missed you, savita.”
Savannah giggled, a sound he’d missed hearing lately. “We’ve only been apart forty-five minutes.”
He’d missed her giggle, too. “Way too long. Can I get you some water before we start?”
“That would be great.” He’d stick to water, too.
A glance at the bar showed him that the other couples had already lined up and had Grant busy filling their orders. The Domme hadn’t chosen to bring any of the male subs she usually played with tonight. The woman seemed to prefer being alone lately, as Damián had at one time. But he only hoped she’d find someone to complete her someday, like he’d found his Savannah.
Thinking it might be a good time to begin grounding Savannah for their scene later, he squared his shoulders in front of her, cupped her chin, and brought her gaze up to meet his. “You are the strongest woman I know, Savannah. Tonight, I’m going to challenge you, but I need to be able to trust that you will let me know when you’ve reached your limits or are too uncomfortable to continue.”
Her breath hitched, telling him she was ready to surrender. “Yes, Sir.” He streaked his blunt fingernails slowly up and down her arms, bringing more of her nerve endings to the surface. Goosebumps broke out along her flesh. He smiled. After weeks of being shut down, he hoped tonight would be a turning point for them both.
“Know that I am here to protect and guide you. I will always put your safety and best interests first. And you will always have your safewords, in case you need them. Tell me again what they are.”
“Tamale for stop and guacamole to slow down.”
“Excellent, savita. Now, expect to experience new sensations tonight. Some might make you uncomfortable, but they’ll ultimately bring you to a deeper understanding of your power as my submissive and a greater sense of focus and control over circumstances around you.”
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