The Gilded Chain

by Lauren Smith

His sweet smile turned wonderfully wicked. “Then you will be the most loved woman in the world.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Once we’re alone, I’ll show you just how much I can give you.”

  “Alone?”

  He nodded his head at something behind her. When she turned, she found her father standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, but he seemed satisfied.

  “That will do, boy. You have my blessing. Welcome to the family.”

  “Thank you, Jim.”

  “Why don’t you both come inside and warm up.” Jim held the door open.

  Callie turned to Wes, hoping he wouldn’t mind being around her father. Emotions flashed across his face and he hugged Callie close.

  “What are you thinking about?” she whispered.

  He smiled down at her.

  “I’m thinking I’m the luckiest man alive. I have a woman to love and a real family. I thought I had everything I wanted. And then I met you.” He nuzzled her cheek, then placed a tender kiss on her lips, and she felt his heart there, beating in time with her own.

  “You’re burned into my soul, Callie.” He placed her hand to his chest above his heart.

  She leaned into him, hugging him. “From the moment I met you, you’ve always been in mine. Even before I knew that I loved you, my heart loved you. Just promise me one thing, no more wagers. I don’t think I’d survive another bet.” This time she kissed him, pushing him against the wooden porch beam. He chuckled against her lips.

  “No more bets,” he promised.

  “Good. Now get over here and make me blush.” She tugged at the lapels of his coat.

  “Easy, little sub, I owe you plenty of spankings.” He murmured seductively.

  “Mmm, sounds tempting. Maybe later though. Now, I want you to kiss me, damn it.”

  “For you?” He raised a brow, trailing one hand down her back. “Anything.”

  Their lips melted and their hearts merged. She’d never imagined that kissing anyone would feel like this, as though their two souls were touching. Yet, from the moment she’d met Wes Thorne, they’d been connected by something deeper, purer than she could have imagined and a single kiss was but a beautiful drop in a vast sea. This kiss was its own work of art.

  A true masterpiece.

  Epilogue

  Royce Devereaux leaned back against the bar, grinning lazily, as Katrina Evans blew him a kiss good-bye. She sauntered away in those killer heels and black lace lingerie. He was still fully clothed in his jeans and a black t-shirt. They’d only done a minor scene tonight, a light spanking and a little more. He’d been too distracted to get into it tonight, not when they were alone. Half the rush was taking a woman to unbelievable heights of pleasure, knowing others could see her come apart screaming his name.

  That hadn’t happened tonight. It had been a nice evening. Nice. He grimaced. His nights used to be explosive, mind-blowing, but never nice. He was born to be bad. Born to be wicked, and he hadn’t yet found a woman who could keep up with him.

  He studied the other doms in the Gilded Cuff. Many of them were preoccupied with their own subs, unaware of his scrutiny. They were immersed in their own love affairs, bodies entwined. Royce felt a momentary flare of nostalgia he couldn’t quite place, causing him to give in to an uncharacteristic sigh. It used to be fun. He, Emery, and Wes breaking in new submissives with games and using wicked sex toys. Their world had seemed limitless. Until now.

  Now it’s just me. The sharp pang of anger and jealousy shot through him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

  His phone vibrated in his jeans pocket and when he checked the screen, he saw a text from Wes.

  “She said yes.”

  That was it. Royce growled softly, his fist clenching around the phone before he shoved it back into his pocket. Wes had flown out to Colorado that day to propose to Callie Taylor.

  Royce spun to face the bar and reached over the edge to grab a nearby bottle of bourbon and a shot glass. Tonight was not his night. He was totally alone since Kat’s departure, and now he was completely fucked and not in the way he wanted, because the last of his best friends had just gotten engaged.

  To Wes and Callie, he thought, as he downed the first of what promised to be a series of shots. The liquid burned his throat and he savored it, tilting his head back to the ceiling and letting it wash through him.

  “Royce?” Aria Lexington, the Gilded Cuff’s top domme and gatekeeper of membership check-ins, walked up to him. Wearing her usual dark suit and black glasses with her hair in a sleek yet sexy chignon, she was a man’s perfect librarian fantasy. Not his though…He liked a submissive woman in bed, one he could spank, not one who’d rather spank him.

  “What do you want?” he replied as he turned to face her, filling his glass of bourbon as he met her gaze.

  “There’s a young woman in the lobby. She says she has to talk to you. Her name is Mackenzie Martin.”

  Royce froze, the bourbon spilling over the edges of his glass and onto his fingers before he recovered and hastily set the bottle on the bar. It thunked hard against the wood surface and drew the attention of the bartender, who quirked a brow in concern.

  “I was going to turn her away, per our privacy policy, but she seemed earnest and she’s not dressed for the club, if you get my meaning. She actually seems a bit frightened, and well…it looks like she’s been roughed up by someone.”

  Kenzie was here? For a moment Royce’s brain short-circuited. His teacher’s assistant was standing in the lobby of his club? The club she wasn’t supposed to know about. And she was roughed up. Someone had hurt her…

  “Let her in,” he told Aria. “She’s one of my graduate students. My TA.”

  Aria straightened her glasses and blinked. “Are you sure? We had a ban of all students from the university at your request.”

  “Aria,” Royce growled low. Even though the woman was a domme, she responded to his alpha dominance and lowered her head a few inches.

  “Very well. You should come with me. She seems a bit skittish and insisted she speak to no one but you.”

  Every muscle in Royce’s body tensed. What had happened to his TA? They rarely shared a civil word to one another and for her to seek him out was…abnormal. Adding to that what Aria had said about her being skittish, that wasn’t good.

  Aria led Royce through the main club floor. When she opened the door to the lobby, one of the club monitors, Bruce, stood just outside watching something in the corner of the room far away from him.

  “Where is she?” Royce asked him, glancing about the partially dim lobby.

  Bruce gave a little nod indicating a bench on the far wall by the door. There, dripping wet, her eyes wide, hands clenched into fists, was Kenzie Martin. Royce took in her posture, the way her arms curled around her chest, her cable-knit sweater hanging limp about her body. She looked like a half-drowned kitten. Her jeans were dark with water and soaked with mud on one side as though she’d fallen. A small tear of her jeans on one knee caught his eye because of the bright crimson slash of blood. A bruise marred her cheek on the left side. Her head was bowed as though she was tired and attempting to hide or make herself appear smaller. They were the actions of a creature who’d been recently attacked.

  His blood boiled and he clenched his fists. She’d been hurt and he was going to kill whoever had touched her.

  “Dr. Devereaux?” She sat up when she saw him, her chocolate-brown eyes darting from him to Aria and then to Bruce.

  “Kenzie, what’s happened?” He left Aria and Bruce as he strode over to her and knelt down on one knee so he was level with her. He cupped her cheeks and turned her face, inspecting the damage. Her long lashes fluttered and a single tear trickled down her bruised cheek. It glistened beneath the muted lamplight from the wall sconces and he brushed it away with the pad of his thumb.

  “Can I speak with you privately?” she whispered, her gaze flicking to Bruce and Aria, who were still in the lobby, watching them intently.

&nb
sp; “Okay, sure. There’s a room in the club where we can have some privacy.” He offered her a hand.

  Normally he avoided touching her because she was so tempting. There was too much fire in her, too much sass, and he wanted to dominate her right into his bed…spank the sass right out of her until she was begging for him to take her. But she was off-limits. He’d never slept with a student at his college and he never would. It was a line he wouldn’t cross. And Kenzie had made it clear what she thought of him romantically, which was nothing. Rather than blush at his mildly inappropriate remarks that sometimes slipped out while they worked late on grading assignments, she just fired right back at him with some remark that put him in his place. Namely as her professor and not as a potential lover. Now, when her frightened gaze and trembling lips set off every instinct in him to protect her, she was more off-limits than ever.

  She slipped her hand into his without questioning him. He led her past Aria and Bruce and into the club. Most of the subs and doms were getting up to leave for the night, but a few couples still lingering in the club eyed them with interest. Kenzie shifted closer to him, an almost unconscious move as he took her back to one of the private rooms.

  She followed him inside but skidded to a halt when she saw the massive bed in the center of the room. Her almond-shaped eyes widened.

  “What—”

  “Relax, Kenzie. It’s just a bed. Sit down and tell me what happened.” He guided her over and gently pushed on her shoulders until she sat. Then he walked over to a dresser and opened the top drawer. Every private room kept a first-aid kit handy just in case the play got a little rough. He flipped the case open and dug through its contents until he found some antiseptic pads and a couple of Band-Aids. Tearing the packet open, he walked back to her and lifted one of her legs onto the bed so it was easier to reach. Her knee was scraped, the cut was not deep, but still bloody.

  “This may sting,” he warned softly. The cool cloth wiped away the dirt and blood as he rubbed gently at the cut.

  Kenzie bit her lip, but made no sound. After he cleaned the cut and covered it with a Band-Aid he treated her scraped hands the same way. Once that was done, he cupped her chin and tilted her head to look up at him.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded.

  “I was in your office finishing up putting the exam scores into your database.” Kenzie paused, licked her chapped, split bottom lip, and then continued. “Three men broke into your office while I was there.”

  His blood began to pound a steady, fast rhythm deep inside his head. Flashes of the past, of old fears, threatened to resurface. No, this wasn’t twenty-five years ago. He wasn’t a little boy whose friends were taken by masked men.

  “And?” he prompted, burying his dark thoughts of his past.

  “They were looking for you, Dr. Devereaux. They attacked me before I could act. One hit me a few times.” She touched her cheek and then met his gaze. It was all steel and courage in her eyes.

  Damn, what a woman Kenzie was.

  “I pretended to be unconscious and overheard them talking to someone on the phone. When they weren’t looking, I jumped out of the office window behind your desk.”

  “What? That’s a second-story window!”

  Kenzie’s responding chuckle was full of pain. “Yeah. One hell of a drop. It’s how I got so banged up. I sort of scaled down the drain pipe until it broke. I’m just glad I had my car keys in my jeans and not my purse. I drove straight here.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police or go home?”

  Two red spots colored her cheeks. “I thought they might check my wallet. It has my driver’s license in there with my apartment address on it.”

  “You should have gone to the police.” He turned his back on her as he walked over to a trash bin to dispose of the cleansing wipes and Band-Aid wrappings.

  “They said something on the phone that had me worried and made me afraid to get the police involved. I think they have an inside connection to the police department here. And they seemed to want to talk to you about illegal trafficking. I didn’t want to get you in the middle of something…” She trailed off and he understood what she meant. She thought he was involved in something illicit and didn’t want to bring that to the police. Talk about TA loyalty.

  Royce faced her again as he considered everything she’d told him. He didn’t have any enemies that he was aware of. He didn’t owe money, and he certainly hadn’t crossed anyone to the point that they would hire thugs to break into his office.

  “Illegal trafficking…” he mused aloud. “I have no idea what they’re talking about.” He hoped that would reassure her. She didn’t look that convinced.

  “Dr. Devereaux, I’m afraid to go back to my apartment.”

  He knew for Kenzie to admit her fear of anything meant it was serious. He was responsible for her injuries and he needed to protect her. To do that, he had to figure out what the hell was going on.

  “I’ll take you somewhere safe tonight.” He knew just where to bring her.

  Kenzie let her bandaged leg drop off the bed. “Where?”

  “My home.”

  Her lips parted but he silenced her with one of his dom scowls. It had cowered many a rebellious submissive in the club before.

  “Until I figure out what’s going on, I want you near me. Allow me to protect you. Understood?”

  She nodded, eyes wide.

  “Good. Now, let’s get out of here. The quicker we figure this out, the better.”

  If he didn’t resolve this issue soon, he’d be in deep shit. Kenzie under his roof was going to drive him insane with lust. He knew the moment her natural sass returned he’d be tempted to bend her over the nearest flat surface, spank her, and then fuck her until they both couldn’t walk. And that was bad. Really bad.

  If he couldn’t maintain his control, she’d end up in his bed, and his most important rule would be broken.

  Every passion has its price…

  See the next page for an excerpt from THE GILDED CUFF by Lauren Smith.

  AVAILABLE NOW

  Chapter 1

  Emery Lockwood and Fenn Lockwood, eight-year-old twin sons of Elliot and Miranda Lockwood, were abducted from their family residence on Long Island between seven and eight p.m. The kidnapping occurred during a summer party hosted by the Lockwoods.

  —New York Times, June 10, 1990

  Long Island, New York

  This is absolutely the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

  Sophie Ryder tugged the hem of her short skirt down over her legs a few more inches. It was still way too high. But she couldn’t have worn something modest, per her usual style. Not at an elite underground BDSM club on Long Island’s Gold Coast. Sophie had never been to any club before, let alone one like this. She’d had to borrow the black mini-skirt and the red lace-up corset from her friend Hayden Thorne, who was a member of the club and knew what she should wear.

  The Gilded Cuff. It was the place for those who enjoyed their kink and could afford to pay.

  Sophie sighed. A journalist’s salary wasn’t enough to afford anything like what the people around her wore, and she was definitely feeling less sexy in her practical black flats with a bit of sparkle on the tips. Sensuality rippled off every person in the room as they brushed against her in their Armani suits and Dior gowns, and she was wary of getting too close. Their cultured voices echoed off the craggy gray stone walls as they chatted and gossiped. Although she was uneasy with the frank way the people around her touched and teased each other with looks and light caresses, even while patiently waiting in line, a stirring of nervousness skittered through her chest and her abdomen. Half of it had to do with the sexual chemistry of her surroundings, and the rest of it had to do with the story that would make her career, if she could only find who she was looking for and save his life in time. Her editor at the Kansas newspaper she wrote for had given her one week to break the story. What she didn’t know was how long s
he had to save the life of a man who at this very moment was in the club somewhere. She swallowed hard and tried to focus her thoughts.

  Following the crowd, she joined the line leading up to a single walnut wood desk with gilt edges. A woman in a tailored gray suit over a red silk blouse stood there checking names off a list with a feather pen. Sophie fought to restrain her frantic pulse and the flutter of rebellious butterflies in her stomach as she finally reached the desk.

  “Name, please?” The woman peered over wide, black-rimmed glasses. She looked a cross between a sexy librarian and a no-nonsense lawyer.

  A flicker of panic darted through Sophie. She hoped her inside source would come through. Not just anyone could get into the club. You had to be referred by an existing member as a guest.

  “My name’s Sophie Ryder. I’m Hayden Thorne’s guest.” At the mention of her new friend’s name the other woman instantly smiled, warmth filling her gaze.

  “Yes, of course. She called and mentioned you’d be coming. Welcome to the Gilded Cuff, Sophie.” She reached for a small glossy pamphlet and handed it over. “These are the club rules. Read over them carefully before you go inside. Come to me if you have any questions. You can also go to anyone wearing a red armband. They are our club monitors. If you get in too deep and you get panicked, say the word “red” and that will make the game or the scene stop. It’s the common safe word. Any doms inside should respect that. If they don’t, they face our monitors.”

  “Okay,” Sophie sucked in a breath, trying not to think about what sort of scene would make her use a safe word. This really was the most stupid thing she’d ever done. Her heart drummed a staccato beat as a wave of dread swept through her. She should leave…No. She had to stay at least a few more minutes. A life could hang in the balance, a life she could save.

  “There’s just one more thing. I need to know if you are a domme or a sub.” The woman trailed the feather tip end of her pen under the tip of her chin, considering Sophie, measuring her.