Vonna Harper

by His Slave

  She didn’t blame Mace. He’d simply done what she’d asked him to, or rather what Robert and Atwood had talked both of them into doing. Doming her had come naturally from Mace’s personality, which put the responsibility squarely on her shoulders. She’d been the one who’d—

  “Enough!” She couldn’t smell exhaust fumes, and although the air wasn’t the freshest, she wasn’t having trouble breathing. How long did Mace intend to keep her in here, and where were they going? Did he expect her to remain naked for the foreseeable future?

  And what about everything she owed Mace?

  Tires humming over the road quieted her thoughts. She might not want to risk touching her so-sensitive sex, but other parts of her anatomy were pleading for attention, most notably her breasts. Fortunately, or perhaps not, her hands were curled against her middle, which made lightly touching her nipples a simple matter. Had they ever been this receptive to stimulation?

  Mace was such a pro. Maybe he’d been born with a sixth sense about the female anatomy and how each part of that anatomy responded to various stimulations. He should be a teacher.

  What was she thinking? His brand of expertise didn’t belong in a classroom.

  Wrapping herself in memories of the ways he’d restrained, touched, and flogged her a little while ago, she gave up trying to make sense of her surroundings. Yes, she was still wrapped in post-climax lethargy, but she trusted him. Mace hadn’t hurt her tonight. He never would.

  As the car slowed, she told herself he might only be responding to the traffic, but then she heard crunching under the tires followed by the vehicle rocking to a stop. Breathing as slow as possible, she listened to his shoes on what she thought was gravel. A quiet click and the trunk swung up.

  They were somewhere without streetlights or traffic, a place illuminated by stars and the nearly full moon. Mace appeared as the faintest of shadows standing above her. Studying his motionless form, she wondered if she might be falling in love with him. No, it couldn’t be that! She hadn’t known him long enough to grasp what there might be to love about him. Truth was, she knew nothing about his background, family, childhood, none of the things that comprised a complete human being.

  Yet, something about him caressed her senses. That something went beyond sex in the forms they’d experienced.

  He held out his hand. Taking it, she sat up, then stepped out of the trunk. As soon as she was on her feet, he gathered her in his arms and headed for the passenger’s side. Not giving herself time to think about what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around his neck but resisted the impulse to snuggle against him.

  “I don’t want to run the risk of you stepping on glass,” he explained. “As for putting you in the trunk, it was part of the show.”

  “What show? Everyone was inside.”

  “Were they?”

  Letting go with one hand, she opened the door. He deposited her on the seat and stepped back, leaving her full of questions. Now he was back in the shadows that treated him so well, a silent and powerful force.

  “I don’t know if you noticed it,” he went on, “but there are video cameras stationed throughout the parking lot. And inside. The ones inside are what concern me.”

  Bending her knees, she wrapped her arms around her legs but made no move to face ahead. “Who would be looking at them?”

  “Good question. A syndicate owns and manages Indulgences. Club members like myself don’t know who belongs to it.”

  “You make it sound like the mafia, maybe a drug cartel.”

  “You might not be too far off. Scoot around. We need to get going.”

  Earlier tonight she’d complied with his every command, but this was now, and her future and safety were back in her hands. Her emotions where he was concerned might be complicated, but her parents hadn’t raised a fool.

  “Where are we going? You owe me at least that much.”

  “My place.”

  “What about mine?” Was he taking note of her breasts flattened against her knees or what he could see of her crotch? Like it mattered.

  “Not yet. We need to talk.”

  “Why can’t we do that at my house? That’s where my clothes are, where I feel safe.”

  “Are you? Look, we can do this easy or hard. Either way, we’re going to wind up where I say.”

  “What’s this? You aren’t done playing the role you assumed at Indulgences, at least I guess it was a role.”

  He leaned closer. “Are you sure it’s a role?”

  Unnerved, she faced front. She started a little when he closed the door, then hugged the passenger’s door as he slid behind the wheel.

  “Seat belt,” he said.

  Her hands shook, so he wound up reaching over and snapping the belt into place. Thinking he might demand to know what was on her mind tied her stomach in knots, but when he turned the radio to an easy-listening station, she relaxed a little. If only she knew where Mace’s dominating side ended and the compassionate pit bull owner began.

  Mace hadn’t said anything the whole time they were heading for his place. The car doors automatically unlocked when he turned off the engine. After a moment, she reached for the handle because she had no choice. Noting her bare arm reminded her anew of her nudity.

  Much as she wanted to cover what she could, she refused to let Mace know what she was thinking, so she let her arms hang at her sides as they went inside. Rio was waiting for them, his tail slapping the wall. Seeing him, her heart softened.

  Dropping to his knees, Mace embraced the solidly built dog.

  Watching them, she was reminded of the weekend she’d spent with a friend when she was in the fifth or sixth grade. Her friend lived on a sheep ranch, and she’d fallen absolutely and completely in love with the family’s two trained sheep dogs. When not on duty, they were gentle, loving couch potatoes, but at a command, they changed.

  At first she’d been intimidated by their single-minded energy and determination. Then the smaller female had crawled onto her bed and she’d held on to it all night. When she went home, she’d begged her parents to let her have a dog, only to force the dream to die when she saw the denial in their eyes.

  Rio licked his cheek as Mace looked up at her. “We need to talk.”

  “What about?”

  “For starters, there are some things I need to know about you.”

  “Me?” Even on his knees, he looked masterful. And she’d be a fool not to remember that Rio had been bred as a fighting dog. “What about you? I know nothing about you.” Except that you have more self-control than any man should have.

  After giving Rio a final hug, he stood, seeming taller than he’d been a moment ago. Her collar felt as if it had become a living thing, an extension of him placed on her for reasons she might never fully understand. “I’m going to let him out. If you want, get something from my closet.”

  If I want. Feeling dismissed, she studied his back as he left the room, a now calm Rio walking beside him. Although she wanted to look at his photographs for assurance that she was safe with him, she headed for his bedroom. Once there, she hurried past his bed and into a small closet. His clothes were basic, nothing trendy. They’d been hung up with little consideration for order or wrinkles. She grabbed a plain blue T-shirt because it looked as if it was the longest. Even before she pulled it over her head, Mace’s scent enveloped her, and although she shouldn’t, she held it to her nose. Her cunt stirred, and her throat felt flush.

  “Why can’t we have this conversation at my place?” she asked when he came into the living room where she was sitting in a dark brown leather chair. “If we have to have it at all, I’d prefer it happens where I feel comfortable.”

  He seemed to be considering her comment, but when he sat opposite her some three feet away, she knew she’d lost the argument. And that she wasn’t going to get an explanation.

  “Tell me about your friends,” he said. “I know about the ones at work, but there have to be others.”

  He’d conce
rned himself with whom she hung out with on the job? If that was so, then he was aware that those relationships were casual and not always comfortable. He probably didn’t need her to explain that as the new kid on the block, yet being handed some plum assignments, the more established journalists weren’t inclined to embrace her.

  “What’s this about?” she asked, although she sensed this question, too, would go unanswered.

  “I can investigate if necessary, but it’s to your benefit if I don’t have to spend valuable time doing so.”

  “My benefit? What do you mean?”

  He’d been sitting back looking so comfortable she envied him. Now he leaned forward and his expression changed, warned. This wasn’t the same man who’d turned her body inside out a little while ago. Gone was the BDSM expert, in its place, what?

  “I debated telling you this, but I don’t see any way around it. Your house is bugged.”

  “Bugged?” she repeated, feeling stupid.

  “There’s a camera in the plant in your bedroom. My guess, it isn’t the only one.”

  Going from hot to cold, she struggled to keep her mouth closed.

  “Who knows how long it’s been there or what they’re looking for?”

  “They?” She had to stop repeating him somehow.

  “That’s what I intend to find out.”

  “By ... by asking for the names of everyone I’ve ever had anything to do with?”

  “I doubt if that’ll be necessary Let’s start by making a list of everyone who’s been in your place and when. Better yet, tell me about your security system, if you have one. There’s a dead bolt. What else?”

  She kept her eyes open because otherwise she risked being emotionally sucked into her home that had always felt safe but now felt alien and dangerous. Mace had to be mistaken. No one meant her any harm. She had no enemies—except maybe the man she’d done a Hunted article on, but not only hadn’t it come out yet, she couldn’t possibly be at the top of Carl Schulz’s hate list.

  “Who installed your security system?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  Mace’s expression was natural for a man whose job revolved around keeping the people entrusted to him safe. How could she make him understand that a lifetime of physical security had impacted her? In fact, feeling physically safe as a child had made up, a little, for the lack of emotional warmth.

  “Just the locks then,” he muttered. “At least tell me you secure your windows when you’re gone.”

  Feeling as if she’d been found guilty of a crime, she shook her head, then hurried to explain that she loved fresh air. “The screens are fine. I’ve never seen any sign that—”

  He stopped her with a shake of his head, the movement and dark eyes touching something in her that needed to remain quiet tonight. The man who’d taught her the meaning of submissive pleasures should have nothing to do with what was being discussed. If only denying that man’s existence wasn’t so hard.

  “Cheyenne, anyone capable of installing a camera so the homeowner isn’t aware of it can get in and out without leaving any sign.”

  “You saw it,” she said, then regretted it because security was his job. “My bedroom. That really makes me sick. Wait a minute!”

  Not sure she could handle her thoughts, she stood and walked over to the oversized window. It was dark out there, no streetlights and trees growing close, the stars and moon barely made an impact. Turning, she focused on Mace. She hadn’t turned on a light when she came into the living room, thinking that was Mace’s right and responsibility, but only the adjacent kitchen illuminated the room. Too damn many shadows led to her unease.

  “Damn you, Mace. I thought that what happened in my bedroom was about you and me.” For a moment she thought she was going to be sick. “But you were playing to the camera. Hell, for all I know, you planted it.”

  He didn’t move, and from here she could only guess at his expression. Upset as she was, she wanted to feel her skin against his. “Is that what you believe?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead.

  “Think about it.”

  She nearly snapped that that’s exactly what she was doing. Instead, she wound up heeding the messages from her body. Bottom line, it trusted Mace.

  Despite another voice insisting she was a fool if she let her body be in charge, she retraced her steps and sat down. She even managed to lean back and casually cross her legs, careful to keep his shirt tucked around her thighs. “If it’s someone at work, it won’t be long before everyone knows you and I were, ah, together.”

  “If that’s the case, we’ll deal with it. At least that way, we’ll have our answer. Cheyenne, do you have any enemies?”

  The unexpected question had her gripping the chair arms. “No, I’ve never done anything to—”

  “What about jealousy from your coworkers?”

  “I haven’t taken anyone’s job from them.”

  “Look, I understand your reluctance to entertain the possibility that another reporter could resent you enough to want to destroy you. What about someone from your past? Anyone you locked horns with?”

  “Besides my parents, you mean?” she blurted.

  Cocking his head to the side, Mace nodded. “You’re joking, right?”

  “About the possibility that they’d want to ruin my reputation, yes.” She took a deep breath, then let it out. “But I didn’t turn out the way they tried to mold me. I’m adopted. There was a lot of locking horns. There still is, although I keep that at a minimum by having as little as possible to do with them.”

  Her admission had nothing to do with a camera secretly recording her movements. She expected Mace to dismiss what now sounded like a disgruntled child. Instead, he leaned forward. “That’s where the idea for the article that got you the job at Edge came from. You needed to try to understand their impact on the person you turned out to be.”

  “I’m not sure how well I succeeded. Maybe I should have seen a shrink, but I didn’t.”

  “Did they say you didn’t measure up?”

  “Not in so many words.” Now she was grateful for the dim lighting because hopefully he couldn’t see how deep the pain ran. “But a child needs simple acceptance and love. When it isn’t there, he or she knows it.”

  “Yeah, he does.”

  She wasn’t the only one in pain; his tone left no doubt. She also knew he wouldn’t say more than he had, and if she pushed, he’d throw up countless barriers.

  “They set the bar high starting with a prestigious preschool where I was taught how to read almost while still in diapers. Being in diapers by my second birthday was seen as a sign of immaturity and defiance, so there were consequences.”

  “You remember that?”

  “I’m not sure. Something about my early years overwhelms when I try to look back. I knew I couldn’t ask them, so I turned to my aunt, my adoptive father’s sister. She and her brother were estranged, but she decided I needed to know, as she put it, how they’d screwed me up.”

  “You aren’t screwed up.”

  “Aren’t I?” No tears, damn it! “I get off on being flogged.”

  “Submissive tendencies are natural, Cheyenne. Don’t ever think there’s something wrong about them.”

  “I want to believe you.” At least she no longer felt as unsure as she had when, at four, her mother declared she was too old for training wheels.

  “Then do. Cheyenne? Why did they name you that?”

  Mace was a voice in the dark, a compelling presence, the vital link to the present. Compassion and caring when she needed that. “They didn’t. I was named Udele, which means prosperous.”

  “The hell.”

  “Yes.” She laughed. “The hell. When I went away to college, I legally changed my name to something that symbolized freedom to me. They were furious.”

  “Are they still?”

  “On occasion. Chasing the almighty dollar rules them. They don’t understand w
hy I don’t feel the same way. They’re concerned I’ll give away my inheritance. In fact, my mother said she was going to draw up a new will appointing their financial advisor as executor so I can’t. He’ll handle the distribution based on their orders.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “It’s their money, their only real love. They can do what they want.”

  Mace’s silence enveloped her. Maybe it was nothing more than fallout from what she’d dumped on him, but she sensed a compassion she hadn’t expected. Their relationship was complex, unlike any she’d ever experienced. And in the aftermath of the most explosive climax of her life, she’d be a fool to trust her mind.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked when the silence became too much.

  “About something I heard about tigers eating their young. Too bad it doesn’t work the other way around.”

  “What? That’s horrible.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Ready to change topics?” he asked.

  “Yes, I never thought I’d ... obviously my parents haven’t bugged my place, so why were we talking about them?”

  He could have pointed out that she’d been responsible for that. Instead, he asked if she was warm enough.

  “Yes.”

  “Let me know if that changes. Now, back to who’s been in your place.”

  Answering didn’t take long. A self-diagnosed hermit when not on the job, she loved owning her own place. That probably had its roots in her childhood when her every move and activity had been scrutinized. Before Mace could ask, she admitted that since buying the condo, she hadn’t brought a date home. In fact, she hadn’t dated any man more than three times in years.

  As for women friends, there were two from where she’d worked before and several college friendships that had endured. Her closest friend was her roommate from her last two years of college.

  “Does she know about your interest in BDSM?” Mace asked.

  “She’s the only one who does. I sometimes accuse her of corrupting me because she supported herself as an exotic dancer all through school.”