Beauty Submits To Her Beast

by Sydney St. Claire

  He glared at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She smiled. “My, did you wake on the wrong side of the bed.” She strode in, glanced around. “Or should I say wrong side of the couch?”

  “Not in the mood.” As usual, her hair was pulled back in a bun of sorts. The severe style a perfect fit for her dominant personality.

  “No, you’d rather brood, mope, and feel sorry for yourself.” She proceeded to open his curtains.

  Light spilled in, blinding Damon. He blinked, held up his hand. “Dammit, Glorie. Have your say, then get the hell out.”

  “And leave you to your fun and games?” She paused in front of the TV.

  Embarrassed, he grabbed the remote and flipped off the DVD player. “What do you want?”

  “Besides seeing you walking among the living again instead wallowing in the darkness?” She leaned against the window frame. “Sit and get off that leg.”

  At the command in her voice, he rolled his eyes. “Not one of your subs, Mistress.”

  “Then do it because you’re in pain, unless you don’t mind falling flat on your face in front of me.”

  He knew Glorie wouldn’t leave until she was good and ready so he plopped down and rested his foot on the coffee table. He rubbed his thigh. “Fine. Sitting. Now what?”

  “Bryce and I are worried. You left the event early.”

  Damon wanted her to leave. He wanted to be alone. No crime in that. His choice. “Is there a question in here?”

  “You’ve never left an event early. So yeah, why this time?” She paced.

  “None of your business,” Damon said.

  “Making it my business. It’s time someone took you in hand so you’re coming with me. I have something to show you.”

  With her hands on her hips, chin jutting, he half expected her to pull out a whip and snap it. Too bad she didn’t do anything for him, or he might try to use sex to get the feel, scent, and image of Caitie from his mind. “Not interested.”

  “Tough shit. Now get your ass off that couch and take a shower. And make it fast.” She lifted a brow. “Unless you want me to join you and wash your back.”

  Two hours later, he was still stewing. Glorie had badgered, threatened, and refused to leave until he escaped into the bathroom, locking the door. He wouldn’t put anything past the sneaky, wily Domme, who could, would, and often did change her sexual preferences to suit her mood and the needs of those around them. He’d participated in one of her threesome scenes and had to admit, the woman was good, but the only woman he wanted was out of his reach.

  “Where the hell are you taking me, Glorie?”

  “You’ll see.”

  As that was the fourth time he’d asked and received the same answer, he fell back into a sullen silence.

  Another thirty minutes passed before she spoke. “We’ve been friends for a long time, Damon.”

  “So.” He had a feeling he wouldn’t like what was coming.

  “So, as your friend, I’m worried about you.”

  “Leave it, Glorie. This isn’t something you can fix.” The woman was a born matchmaker. If a relationship was broken or faltering, she just had to stick her arrogant nose in and fix it. He went cold inside.

  “You wouldn’t?” He eyed the passing landscape as they sped down a two-lane highway in her BMW. Fields of wheat with an occasional house, farm, or ranch. Cows, sheep, and even horses were seen grazing.

  Horses. Ranch.

  “Fuck!” He suddenly knew where they were headed. “Turn around, Glorie. I’m not going to Caitlin’s ranch.

  She smiled grimly. “Too late.”

  She slowed and turned onto a drive. A sign hanging over an arch welcomed them to For the Love of Horses.

  “Stop.”

  He stared out at pastures with horses grazing. A small herd ran alongside the car as though they were the welcoming committee. “What are you doing, Glorie?”

  She stopped the car. “Saving you. Or rather, bringing you here for Caitie to do that job.” She chuckled. “She’d correct me and say only you can save yourself. And she’s right.” She put a hand on his injured thigh. The tight muscle jumped. “Give her a chance, Damon. Give yourself a chance. She wanted you to come and see her ranch. I know you care for her. You’ve never left an event before the end, and the state of your apartment tells me you’re in pain, and not just physical.”

  “Doesn’t matter what I feel. Reality’s a bitch.” God, he longed to be her man, her hero. Her prince.

  Before he could order her to take him home, a loud honk had Gloria moving forward. Glancing back, he saw a truck and horse trailer following, making turning around impossible. “Fine. We’ll look, and then we’re gone.”

  She drove into the yard. An old, grizzled ranch hand hurried to her window. “Got a trailer kissin’ yer ass. Don’t want that beamer to get hit. Park over there.” He pointed to an area where several pickups were parked.

  Glorie and Damon stepped out into utter chaos. A group of men came on the run to deal with the horse trailer while others rode across the yard. There was movement everywhere he looked. The noise level was astounding—yelling, shouting, horses calling, adding their voices to the din.

  “Name’s Dusty,” the old ranch hand shouted in order to be heard.

  “Damon.” He shook the man’s hand, surprised to find the grip strong and firm.

  “Welcome, Damon. I’m guessing you be the new one.”

  “New what?” He felt as though he’d stepped back in time to the wild, wild west. Men in boots, hats, and plaid shirts went about their business. Some rode, others led their mounts.

  “Let’s go meet your buddy.”

  Glancing at Glorie, the woman shrugged. He had to hurry to address Dusty. “I think you’ve made a mistake. I’m just here for a quick visit. Where is Caitlin?”

  “Oh, she’ll be here soon enough. Never misses greeting new arrivals, be they men or horses. Now move that ass. Need your help over here.”

  Damon followed as four horses were offloaded. He frowned. Two were in bad shape. Rib and hipbones protruding and dull, dirty coats. Three of the animals kept trying to shy away from the men. Then Caitlin arrived. She didn’t glance at him, didn’t acknowledge his presence. Instead, her focus was on the horses. She spoke softly and gently to each one, then gave instructions.

  “Damon, could you come over here?” She held the reins of the two in bad shape.

  He joined her. “Caitlin—”

  “Look at them. Mistreated, abused, and abandoned. Now they’ll find hope, contentment, and happiness. They’ll never go hungry or be alone. They’ll learn to trust and love. Their lives start here. And they’ll live to be old and die here.”

  “I’m not a horse to be saved, Caitlin. I’m not abused or mistreated or starved.” He shoved aside the abandonment he’d felt as a child. He’d gotten over his childhood a long time ago but knew he’d never forgive himself for abandoning his men.

  She met his gaze, her whiskey-dark eyes churning with emotion and the sheen of tears. “You abuse yourself, Damon. You mistreat you, and you are as starved as any of these horses. Not of food but of acceptance and forgiveness. Like each of these animals, you’ve lost hope. These animals were helpless to change their situations. They couldn’t fight for happiness. But you can.” Her gaze turned intense. “And you will.”

  She cupped the side of his face with one hand. “I’m not asking you to stay for me, not even asking for you to give us a chance. I want to help you heal and find your way back.”

  He lowered his forehead to hers. “Caitlin…”

  His throat closed off, stopping him from telling her he didn’t deserve what she offered. He closed his eyes. He was better off alone, but her touch, her scent, her voice arrowed deep into his being. Some long-denied part of him screamed for what she offered.

  A hard nudge to his shoulder threw him off balance, and he landed on his ass. Blinking, he glared at the black horse with sad eyes staring down at him. S
he lowered her head and snorted, her breath fanning his face. “What the hell?”

  Caitie laughed gently. “I think you’ve been claimed.” She reached down and helped Damon to his feet. She handed him the reins. “She’s yours.”

  “What?” This time when the animal butted against him, he was braced and ready.

  “While you’re here, you are responsible for her care. You’ll feed her, clean her stall, exercise her, groom her, make her feel safe, and teach her to trust and love.”

  “That’s a tall order for a couple hours.” He eyed the mare and swore he felt a connection as he stared into her large, soft, brown eyes.

  Caitlin patted his shoulder. “Oh, I think you’ll be here longer.”

  The sound of wheels crunching gravel had him whipping around. “Dammit.” Glorie rolled down her window. “I packed what I could for you while you were in the shower.” She wrinkled her nose. “Might need to wash most of them first.” She waggled her fingers, then she and her car shot down the drive toward the highway.

  Dusty joined them, holding a large duffel bag. “Yer with me, young man. Let’s get the two of you settled.”

  Getting him and his horse settled meant taking him into the barn and teaching him to groom the horse, then feed her, and a rundown of the daily schedule and his assigned duties. He’d listened, done as ordered, and planned to tell Caitlin Olsen just what she could do with her plan to save him.

  But after his chores, he’d been shown to a dormitory-style room with eight double beds spaced along two sides. Each section had a dresser, smaller table, and lamp.

  “You’ll sleep here. Yo, Gunny.” Dusty’s raspy voice rose to a holler.

  A large man with skin of dark caramel ambled over. He had his shirt slung over his shoulder. The words Semper Fi were tattooed across his damp chest. “Yo back, Dusty.” He eyed Damon from dark eyes.

  “Got us a new guy. Ex-Navy SEAL Damon Steele meet ex-Gunnery Sergeant Javon Washington.

  “SEAL, huh? Don’t got us one of them around here. Welcome to CCOB.”

  Damon frowned. “What is CCOB?”

  “Caitie’s Club of Boys.” Javon grinned broadly, his teeth starkly white against his dark skin.

  Damon started to tell the man he was mistaken, that he was only here for the night, that tomorrow he’d hike out of here if that was his only way out, Dusty slapped him on the back. “Give this tadpole the tour. Show him the laundry room and showers. You’ll find a schedule and a list of duties in the drawer beside your bed, and Gunny here will add you to the chore roster. Dinner in an hour.”

  Before Damon could protest to being called a tadpole, which is what a SEAL hopeful was when entering BUD/S—Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL—training, and to being handed over to yet another stranger, Dusty was gone and Javon was striding down the middle of the room.

  He turned and cocked one brow. “You coming? No shower, no food. No chores, no food. Let’s go. I be starved.”

  Sighing, Damon followed. What the hell for, he didn’t know. If Caitlin Olsen thought she could trap him out here, toss him into the barracks, and avoid him, she was mistaken. He’d have it out with her before the night was over.

  The large locker-style room—minus the lockers—held a wall of sinks, showers, and toilets that resembled tiny closets with barely enough room to turn around in. The laundry room boasted four sets of washers and dryers, and finally, the dining room had one long table. By the time he’d showered, got his laundry done, was handed his weekly list of chores, and had eaten and been introduced to half a dozen other men, he was exhausted, yet restless.

  Outside, dark had fallen. He stared at the house in the distance. Caitlin’s house. Why the hell had she dumped him in the bunkhouse instead of having him stay with her? What the fuck? Bad enough to gang up on him with Glorie and Bryce and take away his choice, but to then dump him out here like a hired hand?

  Nope. Not going to happen. He strode down the path, intending to have it out with her. As he neared the barn, he heard the high whinny of a horse. Frowning, he stopped. The mare he was in charge of was in there. He detoured inside and found her stomping and agitated in her stall. The moment she spotted him, she tossed her head and slammed against the stall door.

  “What’s with you? Don’t like strange places?” He rubbed her nose, relieved when she calmed. She butted her head against him. “Don’t blame you.”

  Anger burned in his gut. He didn’t like feeling as if he’d been dumped and abandoned.

  Leaning against the stall door, he realized he felt abandoned all over again. Not just by his friends but by the woman he’d come to care about. Maybe it had been all about the sex on her part. But why bring him here? And if she wanted to help him, why wasn’t he with her?

  “Going to go find out.” He took two steps away and stopped when the mare let out a shrill cry. He returned to her. “Look, I can’t hang out here all god-damned night.”

  Yet it became clear she wasn’t going to allow him to leave.

  Swearing, he entered her stall, piled up some straw in one corner, and slid down. “Only for a while.”

  The mare nuzzled his shoulder and exhaled, a deep fluttering breath as man and beast fell into exhausted slumber.

  ****

  Caitie rode in from doing her rounds, checking on the horses out in the various pastures. The day was warmer than normal, and she was already hot and sweaty. She slowed her horse as they rode past one of the smaller, round pens. In the center, Damon, stripped to the waist, his chest gleaming a golden brown in the sun, worked with his mare on a long lead. Javon, wearing a tank, his huge arms bulging, took the lead to demonstrate longeing, a training technique, in this case for both horse and man. The horse reared and fought the line.

  Damon stepped forward, grabbed the lead, and walked toward the horse, talking softly. When she calmed, he resumed his place beside the ex-marine and, using his body to signal the mare, got her trotting in a circle around him.

  Smiling, Caitie was pleased to see that horse and man had bonded and that Damon seemed to be a natural. She listened as Javon called out instructions, corrected Damon when needed, and grunted his approval.

  She wanted more than anything to be the one in the ring teaching Damon how to put his horse through her paces and be the one to teach him to ride and even take him out and show him her ranch. But she kept her distance.

  It had been tempting to have him stay with her in her house where she could take care of him, be there during the night when his nightmares claimed him, or help ease the pain in his thigh, but having him here wasn’t about sex or fulfilling her needs or wishes. Her focus was on giving the man she loved what he needed to find himself, and he wouldn’t have done that with her hovering.

  She learned from Dusty he’d spent his first few nights in the stall with the mare and, in the two weeks he’d been here, had settled into the bunkhouse. Her instincts had been spot on. The other vets who’d arrived just as damaged had taken him in hand. Damon worked from sun up to sun down with no time left to wallow or feel sorry for himself.

  And when he had nightmares, he found support. Or as Dusty said, the men formed their own therapy group. They gave him what she couldn’t. Understanding and a comradery only another military man could feel and give. She smiled. He might not know it, but he’d taken the first step to healing.

  Putting another life, even that of an animal, first, above his own problems would help him accept the past and move on. And being around others who had their own demons would make him feel less alone or broken.

  When Javon called a halt, Damon led the mare out of the pen. His gaze met hers and clashed. His were filled with resentment and heat. She wanted to go to him, cup his face in her hands, kiss him, and tell him he was doing great, but she didn’t dare, so she yanked on the reins and rode away.

  ****

  Damon watched Caitlin ride off, his temper rising. Every time he tried to go to her, to have it out with her, give her a piece of his mind, someone was giving
him an order or asking him a question, or he had some stupid-ass chore to do. If he neared the barn, his mare seemed to know it was him and called. And like a doomed man under a witch’s spell, he went to her.

  “What the hell is it with you females,” he muttered. One needed him close, the other was pushing him away. He narrowed his eyes. He’d be damned if she kept ignoring him and treating him like the rest of the men who were proud to be Caitie’s Boys.

  Fuck. He wasn’t a boy thrilled to be in some secret boys-only club. Only clubs he belonged to were ones where he was a Dom and in charge. It was about time Caitie remembered he was a Dom. Her Dom, dammit. He should march into her office tonight and order her to bend over her desk. His dick stirred at the thought of taking her from behind, seeing her wet, pink pussy begging for his cock.

  Fuck. Now he was hard as a rock. He’d been on edge since arriving, his body taut with need for Caitlin. That need grew more urgent with each passing day until he thought he might just snap like the string of a violin. Only by falling into an exhausted sleep was he able to keep his needs under tight control. A nudge to his shoulder reminded him he needed to groom Bella.

  He did a mental eye roll. His horse, his name choice, Dusty had informed him. He’d had no idea what to call the horse. He’d never had a pet of his own. So he chose Belle, or Bella.

  “Stupid sap,” he muttered, leading the way to the barn. The motions of grooming soothed and calmed him. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t felt as at peace with himself or the world as he did while working with his mare.

  His. No one had ever given him a pet, and he didn’t think of Bella as a pet but as a friend. Two needy creatures shoved together. And it was time he had a few words with another woman he’d viewed as a friend. And more.

  So when the sun lowered in the sky and all his chores were done, he slipped out of the bunkhouse and headed toward the house, and yes, detoured into the barn and grabbed a carrot from the bin in the fridge and gave Bella her treat. “Now, behave for a while. I’ve got another woman to see.”