Doms of Dark Haven

by Cartwright, Sierra

She clenched her jaw and didn't answer. She was still stinging from the bargain she'd made with him. She too was wondering how he'd gotten her out of her clothing so easily.

  “Are you going to sub for him tonight, Eva?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  His arms were wrapped around her waist, and she leaned back against him. He was sexy, but more than that, the omega was comforting in the most sensual fashion.

  “Lucky,” he whispered in her ear. “Very, very lucky girl.”

  Chapter Four

  Harte approached, looking every bit the wolf that he was.

  He was no longer wearing his jacket, and his white shirt was loose and unbuttoned. He had a large sports bag slung over his shoulder. His powerful body gleamed under the dim lights. He was heading straight for her. Kevin chuckled but still dropped his arms from her body at Harte's warning look. Seems the big guy didn't share well.

  Behind them, one of the men grunted. She heard the slapping of flesh, knew there was a lot of sex going on, but still, she couldn't take her gaze off Harte. Someone climaxed, flooding the small space with the scent of semen. Kevin slid off the bed and held out a hand to assist her down. She landed on shaky legs and then watched as the men talked quietly. Kevin flashed a wink and left, winding his way through the stations. A moment later, he vanished up the stairs.

  “He's keeping watch at the head of the stairs.” Harte's voice was low and intense. “Patrice and Brian are in the crowd, keeping an eye on the men. If they come down here, don't panic. Don't even look at them. Your entire focus is on me.”

  “Can't we just leave?” Anxiety settled hard in her gut.

  “There are three inside. One or more, plus the tracker, outside. Besides, this is an excellent training opportunity.”

  “Training?”

  He stared hard at her. She swallowed, feeling a flutter of fear laced with perverse arousal in her gut. Where was the anger? The indignation that had kept her together until now?

  “I allowed you to speak out of turn, but from this moment, you are on notice. You will ask permission to speak. You will address me as 'Sir.'” He took her by the elbow and guided her to an empty station. “Step up to the St. Andrew's cross, Eva. Face the wall.”

  Her anger returned in a rush. Eva jerked her arm from his hand. She stepped away, ready to leave him there, high and dry.

  “Eva. Now.” A wave of energy came off him, dangerous and threatening.

  “No.” Her throat was tight and dry. So what if she'd made a deal with him? It had been under duress. She glanced around the room, looking for an exit other than the stairway. There was a fire escape at the far end of the room.

  “Planning to run outside wearing nothing but a corset?” He lifted a brow, and the wild energy receded. “I'm sure the hunters will enjoy that.”

  She froze.

  “Come here, Eva.”

  Her feet were heavy, almost as though they were anchored to the floor. Step-by-step, she moved closer to Harte and to the wooden frame. Faster than the human eye could follow, he moved in and nipped her on the jaw. He shook her slightly and then released her.

  Humiliated, Eva rubbed her stinging skin and dropped her gaze to the floor. It was the same punishment a wolf gave to a puppy. To add insult to injury, his big hands encircled her neck. With a hand braced under her jaw, Harte lifted her from the floor. She didn't choke, but the feeling of absolute helplessness overwhelmed her. She remained perfectly still until he lowered her to the floor.

  Without further urging, Eva stepped up to the cross and put her hands into place. To her embarrassment, she wanted to grovel at his feet, wind herself around his legs. She wanted to bury herself in his scent.

  Shit.

  “What are your limits?”

  She shook her head and then watched as he secured her wrists snugly to the frame.

  “Don't play dumb, Eva. If you don't tell me, I'll have to find out myself.” She set her jaw, refusing to answer. Truthfully, she'd never pondered limits. She'd never visualized herself on the wrong side of the flogger.

  “Earlier you promised that you would turn yourself over to me completely. Do you trust my judgment?”

  She pondered the question. Of the three pack members she'd met, she liked only Kevin on an instinctual level. He trusted Harte. Maybe she should too.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Then we'll explore. Since you're wolf, your triggers and limits will be different from humans'. For example, humiliation and objectification won't sit well with you, will they?”

  “God no! Sir.” He was down at her feet, placing straps around the leather of her booted ankles.

  “But you might have a higher tolerance for pain—real pain. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Sir.” There was no getting around the fact that she'd lived a rough-and-tumble life. She was a tough little bitch, if she said so herself. She swallowed hard, steeling herself to ask a question.

  “Sir?”

  He was kneeling next to the bag he'd been carrying and was rummaging through the contents.

  “Do you have a question, Eva?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you plan to have sex with me?”

  He stood up, circled the cross, and ended up next to her. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Is there a reason I shouldn't? Have you had a past trauma? Are you a virgin?” He was close, so close that she could nearly turn her head to brush his lips with her own.

  She shook her head.

  “If we get to that point, I will certainly ask. Does that make you feel better?”

  She looked up at him, fascinated by the molten gold of his eyes. The wolf was close, but he had exquisite control. “Some. Sir.” She remembered something else. “What's my safe word?”

  “'Red' to stop. 'Yellow' if you just need some breathing space.”

  She nodded.

  “Eva. I expect you to use your safe word if you need to. Everything will come to a complete halt. That's not a threat. It gives us a chance to reevaluate what we're doing. If you use your safe word, you won't be punished; it isn't a bad thing.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. “Thank you.” She was glad for that last bit of information. She could approach the scene with a little more objectivity. Stopping if she needed to wasn't a failure.

  “Ready?”

  Like she had a choice? Eva nodded. Ready or not, this was it. Harte leaned against her; she felt the warmth and weight of his body. Darkness settled as he placed a mask over her eyes. Eva fought down the panic that rose with the blindness. Her world narrowed to the scent of Harte and the hard, smooth surface of the wood against her cheek.

  He'd positioned her so that her feet were wide apart and just a few inches farther back than her shoulders. That gave just enough slope to her shoulders and back and brought her little bum out appealingly. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Kevin on the bottom stair. The omega flicked his gaze up to the other room.

  So they were coming? That was fine with Harte. It was just what he needed at the moment. He was dangerously close to losing his self-control with Eva. As a dom and an alpha, he was all about control. As a wolf, he was all about losing control, and Eva tapped into his wolf like none ever had before.

  He lifted a leather flogger and then set it down; he chose one with wider strips instead. He didn't want to start her with a flogger that would sting. In spite of her tolerance, tonight wasn't about pain; tonight was about teaching her to merge with her wolf. It was also about stripping away those layers of grief and pain that shone from her blue eyes. She couldn't join with her wolf until her emotions were laid bare.

  Frankly, Harte didn't know why he was so desperate to have her complete obedience. It wasn't like she was pack. Though if she wanted to join his pack, they'd be facing negotiations of a completely different sort.

  Wouldn't that be interesting? As fast as she'd stared Patrice down, he'd have a new alpha female within the week. Yes, she was that
strong in character. She just didn't know it yet.

  He swung the flogger, getting the feel of it, letting Eva hear it whisper through the air. She went taut in anticipation of the blow, so he let it settle gently on her shoulder. She flinched, expecting pain, but received only weight. He slid the strands of the flogger down her back and over the rigid corset, watching and scenting as she reacted. He repeated the movement on the other side and then back to the start. On the fourth swing, he struck hard across her buttocks, and she gasped.

  Damn corset was in the way, but for now he left it, enjoying the way it manipulated the shape of her body. The heels of her boots served the same purpose, giving extra length to her legs and a sway when she walked. He began to bring the flogger up to speed, brushing the leather tips over her shoulders and arms and down to her hips and bottom. Abruptly he stopped, pleased with the light pink tone her skin was taking. There wouldn't be much pain, but the increased blood flow to her skin would heighten its sensitivity.

  He made a production of searching in his bag, rattling and shifting items around, while in reality he already had what he needed. He stepped up close enough that he knew she felt him in her space. Instead of a blow, she received a kiss on the neck.

  She shuddered, and Harte scented liquid arousal. Reaching around, he then traced his hands over her belly, imagining the corset coming off inch by inch, revealing her ivory skin and rounded breasts. He fought the urge to grind his cock into her ass, to cover her and take her right there. His shaft was hard and heavy; the wolf paced and whined in desperation. Succumbing just a little, he trailed the tip of his tongue up her neck and ended at the shell of her ear. He leaned in, pressing his erection against her bottom. He held a long feather between his fingers and trailed it along her skin.

  “Can you smell them? Hear them?”

  She shook her head.

  “Use your senses, Eva. You can smell me, can't you?”

  He saw legs encased in black suit pants making their way down the stairs. His hackles rose as the scent of the first man flooded his senses. “He smells like gun oil and hair product. Old Spice and sautéed onions. His right shoe squeaks just a little.”

  He moved to her right and ran a hand down her cheek, smiling as she instinctively followed his touch. He'd been right about pain; the light flogging hadn't fazed her at all. She continued to instinctively challenge her bindings. She didn't like being helpless. On impulse, he swatted her ass with a bare hand.

  Her wild-anger scent told him that she didn't like that at all. He'd found the chink in her armor. He grinned and laid his head next to hers. He felt the blood pulsing through her veins and pressed a kiss on her throat. He caressed her lips with the feather.

  “Can you locate him?”

  She frowned, cocking her head and focusing on her senses. “I hear him to my left. He's not on the stairs anymore. Sir.” Her whisper was as soft as his had been.

  “Very good.” He turned her face and kissed her lightly. He then slapped her face sharply. She pulled her head back at the abrupt transition.

  “That hurt!”

  So he did it again. She jerked hard against her bindings.

  “Be still!” he growled.

  She took a series of deep breaths and stopped struggling. He didn't praise her obedience. Moving away, he then reached into his bag and brought out a cane. With the tip, he stroked up the length of her stockings, watching as she reacted to the feel of it on her inner thigh. She squirmed and then went very still when it passed lightly over her labia. Grinning, he pressed it up a bit tighter, watching her jump as it settled directly over her clit.

  Without any preliminaries, he removed it and flicked it smartly over her ass.

  “Shit!” She wiggled, trying to avoid the sting, but Harte was persistent, varying the blows, never falling into a predictable rhythm. He loved watching her shimmy and flinch, a private dance just for him and the slender, flexible wand.

  A scream rang out, nearly shattering his concentration. At the station next to him, Master Patterson was laying into his sub hard—no warm-up, no warning. The man's face was stoic, and his sub for the night faced him as he flogged her breasts. She stared intently into his face. Some were like that, and that was Patterson's style; he liked to administer a hard beating. He'd seen subs line up for the older man's services, and Patterson would tirelessly oblige.

  “She's just venting. Remember, she's here because she wants to be. If she needs to stop, she'll tell him.” He'd noticed that Eva's attention had also been diverted.

  “I know. She smells…excited.”

  He stepped close again and ran his hands up her bare shoulders. His breath ruffled her hair. “What else do you smell?”

  “You.”

  That was a bit obvious. “And?”

  “Someone furious. Angry.” Harte glanced around and spotted Master Torin marching a new sub to the Medieval Room. He wasn't dressed for the theme, and Harte stifled a grin at the thunderous expression on the human's face. His little sub had pissed him off royally.

  Torin was bagged and tagged.

  “There's only one hunter down here. He's…down by the bed where Kevin took me.” She paused and swallowed. Harte returned to his bag and pulled out a bottle of water. He opened it and gave her a sip, visually checking the bindings around her wrists while she drank. He'd take her down soon, after the hunter left.

  “How do you see the world around you, Eva? What senses do you use?”

  She paused to swallow her water. “Sight, hearing, smell.”

  “No, that's the human way. They see, hear, smell, touch, and taste. We work in a different order.” She was attentive now, her focus completely on him. “Like wolves, we rely on our sense of smell, followed by hearing, sight, taste, and touch. It sometimes varies, but that's the general order.”

  He took the bottle he held up to her and set it on the floor. While he was down there, he wrapped his hands around her ankles, just above the bindings. Slowly he ran his hands up her calves and circled around to the outsides of her thighs. She was very still, and her fragrance was sweet and alluring. Slowly he circled to the insides, finally cupping her mons through the silky fabric of her thong. She was wet.

  “You're drenched. You're dripping into my hand.”

  “Adrenaline does that. So does fear.”

  “But you aren't afraid, are you, Eva?” He rested a cheek against her bare buttock, then rolled in to give her a light nip. She jumped. He kissed the spot he'd nipped, and moved his fingers, sliding the scrap of silk aside. She went very still. He slid one finger through the slick folds of her labia, hissing when she flexed automatically. She made a small, animal-like sound. He doubted that she was even aware she'd made it.

  His fingers brushed lightly over her clit and then circled back to her entrance. He pushed the tip of one finger inside, caught the juices, and pulled them backward to her ass. He pressed lightly just to check her response. She tightened and jerked away from his hand. Harte chuckled at her reaction. This was going to be fun.

  Harte stood and began to loosen her restraints. “I'm taking you down now. Don't take off the blindfold. Just get your balance.”

  When she looked steady on her feet, he led her across the room to a padded table. It was low enough for her to drape over comfortably. “Panties off.” She looked reluctant but didn't hesitate to obey, and reached out to orient herself to the table as she slid the thong off her hips. He carefully guided her into place and then used the shackles that were bolted to the floor to hold her immobile. They had a spreader bar and held her feet far apart.

  Carefully, slowly, he unlaced the back of her corset, admiring the exquisite work of the piece. She sighed as it came off, and he sighed at the sight of her tiny waist and slender back. He still hadn't seen her breasts. He'd save that treat for last.

  There was a drop cloth under their feet, and Harte decided to make use of it, pulling a half-burned red candle and a lighter from his bag. When he lit it, her head came up anxiously. He watch
ed the wax pool under the wick and then stroked her back, relaxing her just a bit. He reached out, centered the candle over the curve of her spine, and tipped it, watching the red wax drip onto her ivory skin.

  She screamed. Finally.

  “You fucker!” She didn't scream the words, not exactly, and she kept her face buried in the vinyl of the table.

  “What was that, sub?”

  Eva shook her head wildly, trying to process the sensations that were sparking along her skin.

  “You fucker, Sir!”

  In reply, another trickle of fire hit her shoulders and dribbled down her back. She stomped her feet as much as the shackles allowed. Her fisted hands pounded on the table.

  “Are you saying your safe word?” His voice was low and silky in her ear.

  “No!”

  “Good.” Another spatter of wax hit her back and trickled toward the crack in her ass. Now that she'd adjusted to the shock, it wasn't so bad. Eva went still in surprise. In fact…

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, Eva?” He sounded a bit disappointed, like perhaps he had expected her to call a stop to their play.

  “It only hurt because I expected it to burn, right?”

  “Very good. And I appreciate your stifling that scream. A second black suit just came down the stairs. However, there is that little matter of language…”

  She went still, trying to catch a scent that was slightly familiar. All of a sudden, it hit her. “Black licorice. Cigarettes. A gun.” She ignored the comment about her language. It would come back to haunt her soon enough.

  “That's right.” His hand slid down between her legs again, and his fingers glided into her slick pussy. Her eyes nearly crossed at the sensation. Her ass tilted, and inwardly she cursed at her body's eagerness to take him. Her wolf was awakened; she'd called on it to scent, and now it was up and aware of the alpha who was wreaking such havoc on her body and mind. Never in her life had she felt so connected to the animal.

  She shivered, feeling the sudden need to shift, to escape out into the foggy streets of the city. Surely she could shake the tracker if she could only run…