Masterful 3 (An Erotic Dark Romance)

by Jesse Joren

  A huge yawn stopped his words. In a moment he was asleep beside me, leaving me with mental images that might requires lots of therapy to forget.

  --

  For the next three hours I drove through the warm December sun. Quiet farmland sometimes changed to tiny towns and pine forests as the road rolled toward the coast.

  The little car purred in a way that begged for maximum speed. Mostly I was able to resist, but what I couldn't resist was letting my eyes go again and again to Hex, sleeping beside me.

  While he was awake, the memory of what had happened – and almost happened – in the Oregon mansion had been held at bay. Now, alone with my thoughts, the reality sank into me.

  How close had Hex come to dying? What would Rosine and Killen have done to me, given just a few more hours? What if Del hadn't been there to help?

  Stop, Eva.

  Each time my gaze fell on Hex, my happiness grew. Most people would say that we had violated every rule of what was supposed to make a healthy, trusting, loving relationship. We were steeped in dark sex, secrets, and danger.

  So why did I feel whole, in a way I could never remember feeling before? Somehow we worked, in spite of breaking the rules.

  "Evangeline," Hex murmured in his sleep, a tiny smile twitching the corners of his mouth.

  Screw the rules. I was happier without them.

  --

  "I didn't run over anyone along the way," I told Hex when he woke up near Savannah. It was a relief to see his pallor fading.

  "Good. That might have interrupted my nap," he said. "Pull over, and I'll drive. It gets a little complicated, and you need to rest."

  I hated to admit it, but I was tired. The sleep I'd had on the flight from Oregon to Atlanta was wearing off. I just wanted to be stopped somewhere with a good bed, so we could rest.

  You just want to be in bed with him.

  Yep. Any girl in her right mind would feel the same way.

  After another fifty miles passed, the roads becoming narrow and twisty. Eventually he pulled onto an overgrown dirt road that looked abandoned.

  "Are we visiting Freddie Krueger?" I asked.

  "Only if you have his address," he said as we stopped at a rusted garage next to a small inlet.

  There was a single boat dock, weather-beaten and rough. A small, ancient-looking boat was up on a rickety lift, sporting hints of what had once been blue paint.

  "This is a means to an end," he said, throwing a cover over the shining Bentley before locking the garage. "Even if someone comes down this road, there's nothing obvious to steal."

  He lowered the boat into the water and peeled back the stained cover. He helped me in and pushed off from the dock. The motor was a quiet putter that barely disturbed the water.

  "Unless there's a hurricane, the current here is calm even at high tide," he explained.

  My curiosity was killing me, but I refused to ask where we were going. Knowing Hex, he wouldn't tell me anyway. He'd give me that slanting grin and then a half-answer that told me nothing.

  After we rounded a bend full of palmettos and underbrush, we were in a wide, windswept bay. An island was in the distance with small white waves breaking around it. Beyond it was a vast body of water that could only be the Atlantic Ocean.

  "That's where we're going," Hex said, pointing to the island.

  "I hope you have a tent somewhere on this boat," I said. "Sleeping on the ground isn't my thing."

  ”Look closer."

  At first I saw nothing except lush foliage, then I realized there was something behind the careful tangle. A house was nestled among the trees, so camouflaged that it could easily be overlooked.

  A tiny opening in the bushes led us into a thin waterway leading up to the house. Ahead of us was the type of house I always associated with places like Hawaii. Lush, natural ground surrounded it, a perfect oasis by the sea.

  Hex pulled the boat into a small dock and tied it off. After he helped me out, he picked me up and carried me toward the house, in spite of my protests about his shoulder.

  "Your time of being in the driver's seat is over." His eyes flashed silver in the light of the setting sun. "Do you need a gag to help you remember your place?"

  I laid my head against his uninjured shoulder. "Not right now. Maybe later."

  "Deal," he said.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  We came to a stone path that curved between trees, and now I saw how cleverly the house was built, set high on a concrete foundation. The shape was almost a C, arching around three huge trees and making them part of the house.

  There was a wide, steep set of stairs that Hex carried me up without even a change in his breathing. The front doors were elaborately carved with leaves and branches. He balanced me in his arms, turned the knob, and walked in.

  "I expected you to have a million locks on a place like this," I said.

  "This place is safe," he said. "If a hurricane comes, that's no problem. People bring the real trouble."

  When he set me down, I realized that the house wasn't that large, but the openness made it seem more spacious. The eastern wall was glass, showcasing a tree-dotted view that rolled slightly downhill to the blue-gray splendor of the ocean.

  "There's a sand bar around this island, a couple of feet below the surface," he said. "That channel we used is the only water deep enough for access, and only if you know where you're going."

  The living room flowed into a high-ceiling kitchen at the center of the house. Filtered sunlight streamed in through several skylights, glinting from stainless steel and dark granite. There was no table, just a long, curving island with several tall stools along the outside.

  Another set of carved doors was to one side of the kitchen. Hex pushed them open to a bedroom with the same minimalistic feel as the rest of the house. Large windows on one side looked out over a lush courtyard.

  The room had a simple, low bed that made me think of Scandinavian furniture, plain but comfortable. At the far end was a door that led into what looked like a bright bathroom.

  "So where will I be sleeping?" I asked slyly.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "In the books I've read, the submissive is always assigned a room of her own. The dominant only brings her to his domain for services rendered."

  "I suggest that you burn those fucking books," he retorted, "because you won't be in any bed but mine."

  It was hard not to melt into a pile of goo right there at his feet. Instead I walked into the bathroom and made immediate plans to lure Hex into the sunken tub with me.

  "Can I snoop in your closet?" I joked.

  "I was about to take you there anyway," he said.

  The closet was neat and not more than half full, mostly with casual clothes. There was a door for extra storage against one wall.

  "Check this out," Hex said. "I'd like your opinion on what I should do with this space."

  Now I saw the small digital panel beside the door. "I thought you said you didn't need locks?"

  He punched in the code and stepped back for me to turn the knob. The door swung inward, but almost immediately there was a wall with another tall, skinny door with no knob.

  "Push," Hex said.

  I gave the door a push. Soft greenish light filtered into the closet, and when I stepped out, I was standing in the living room of Walden.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  I stared at the scene of my long captivity. For months so many months I assumed that I was somewhere deep in the woods of south Georgia. No wonder Hex had always seemed so close.

  Everything was exactly as I'd left it that morning Hex asked me if I wanted to go outside. The hated bike sat blinking in the corner, and the tub was bone-dry from lack of use. The rope still hung from the second floor, reminding me of last night's climb.

  Hex's voice seemed to come from a great distance behind me.

  "I'm like any other criminal, bringing you back to the scene of the crime," he said. "That's what the world would
call it: a crime of passion. But the truth is, another crime happened long before I brought you here."

  His arms were around me, pulling me close. "That crime was larceny. You stole my heart, Eva."

  He turned me to face him, his silvery eyes blazing in the greenish light.

  "There might be a message for you on the bike screen," he said.

  I took a deep breath and walked toward it, feeling slightly unreal. How many hours I'd struggled and sobbed in this room, as Hex tried to pull me back from the edge of giving up my life.

  The screen was blinking with soft blue text. Just three words.

  MARRY ME EVA

  "Wow. I didn't even know that the bike and I were going steady," I said in a shaky voice.

  When I turned around, Hex took my hand and slipped something cool on my finger. The ring was a simple, rose-gold band with an antique feel about it. The diamond solitaire shone with deep, glowing fire rather than bright sparkle.

  "Rose-cut diamonds have become rare," Hex said. "Most of them were recut to be more sparkly. Doing that destroyed the very qualities that made them beautiful. If you don't like this, I'll get you something else. Changing this one would only ruin it."

  The diamond's light blurred behind my tears. I didn't have to be told why he chose this cut for me.

  Ropes could be cut. Cuffs could be unlocked. The message of this ring would last forever.

  "I have a question," I said.

  He looked wary. "Go on."

  "How am I going to fit everything on a driver's license? Evangeline Leigh Bright Dante D'Amitri Calvin, plus your four dozen other names? Or should I just go with Mrs. Hex?"

  His eyes lit up then, laughing at me with silver fire. He looked fully rested now, as if last night had been nothing but good food, good sex, and lots of time lounging on a beach.

  "Is that your way of saying yes, Eva?"

  I nodded, unable to take my eyes from him. He reached past me and touched a button on the wall.

  A familiar whirring filled the room. The panel in the ceiling over the tub opened, and the well-remembered cuffs lowered. They swayed in the still air, almost as if welcoming me home.

  "You have my heart, and my ring," Hex said with that heart-stopping grin. "Now let's make it really official."

  THE END

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jesse Joren is one of those GRITS (Girls Raised In The South). She understands the whole deal about sugar and spice, as long as spice gets top billing. Her romances are sometimes dark and feature unexpected heroines who give their guys a run for the money on the twisty road to true love.

  J.J. currently resides with her husband in Houston, along with a delusional, 120-lb. Rottweiler son who thinks he's a dainty lapdog.