by Anna del Mar
To the Edge
By Anna del Mar
To learn about kink, she had to learn the ropes. Yet she never expected to be so compromised she’d need rescuing. And by him. The first man she’d ever loved. The former navy SEAL who’d broken her heart.
Clara’s gone wild.
Naked. Cuffed. Caged. Is this the sweet senator’s daughter I left behind?
I didn’t know it was her when I rushed into that room filled with flames, but I’ll never let her go again.
She’s proposed a unique way to thank me. It could bring us both to the edge of ecstasy—or to the point of no return.
Clara wants to submit. To me. Totally. Damn any limits. The very thought of it has brought me back from the dead.
But a stranger is watching from the shadows. He’s made us his fantasy. And he plays rougher than I do. Where he’s taking us now is somewhere so dark, and so dangerous, that this time it could be inescapable.
This book is approximately 104,000 words
Edited by Kerri Buckley
One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise! Find out more at CarinaPress.com/RomancePromise
Dear Reader,
Angela is taking some much-deserved summer vacation time this month, so I am taking over the Dear Reader letter. Hello! It is August as I write this, and I’m looking out over the lake in the heat of summer. November is hard to imagine, but I know that sooner than I expect, it’ll be time to cozy up with a cup of tea and one of our November releases. We have something for everyone this month; enjoy!
Shannon Stacey’s novellas have become something of a tradition here at Carina Press, and we’re excited to say this year is no different. When a woman returns to her hometown for Christmas, she doesn’t expect to share her troubles with the former friend who owns the only bar in town, or for their rekindled friendship to flare into something more. Kick off the holiday season with Holiday with a Twist!
Fans of male/male contemporary romance should be sure not to miss Dark & Dazzling, the second installment in Elizabeth Varlet’s Sassy Boyz series. NYPD detective Connelly Reid has been curious about Z, his waiter, for months, but it’s not until he sees him in his makeup and heels that the curiosity becomes a fierce attraction. Z just might be the man he’s been waiting for—but no amount of mind-blowing sex can make Z comfortable becoming dependent on his lover.
If paranormal shifter romance is your jam, be sure to check out Pursuing the Bear by Kerry Adrienne. With war looming, bear shifter Derek Poole is busy preparing to defend his clan. Until smart and sexy professor Bria Lane shows up, intent on exposing the shifters of Deep Creek. Problem is, she’s his mate…
To learn about kink, Clara Luz had to learn the ropes—but she never expected to need rescuing. Especially not by Noah Blake, the former navy SEAL who almost destroyed her. But a stranger is watching them from the shadows. And where he’s taking them now is so dark, and so dangerous, that it could be inescapable. To the Edge is a riveting erotic romance from Anna del Mar. If you like this one, don’t miss At the Brink, also available from Anna.
Last this month is Assassin’s Awakening from N.J. Walters. Logan is an Alpha, a genetic- and computer-enhanced assassin on the path of revenge. Revenge that might rob him of his one chance at finding love with Mercy, a woman who has not only healed his body, but touched his heart.
And that’s it from me for now! Coming soon, a dark, gripping male/male erotic thriller from Lola Hale, the next Diablo Lake book from Lauren Dane and an exciting new fantasy romance from So You Think You Can Write 2015 winner Lauren D.M. Smith. Angela will be back to tell you all about these books and more next month. Happy reading!
Stephanie Doig
Assistant Editor, Carina Press
To the brave, for they seek a different way.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing to read To the Edge. I’m delighted to introduce you to Noah Blake and Clara Luz. These two stole my heart as they engaged in an erotic exploration that took them to the very edge of sexual obsession in search of freedom and redemption.
If you’ve been along on my writer’s journey, then you know that I write about strong heroines struggling to find their place in the world and the brave, sexy, kick-ass heroes who will fight to protect them with all they’ve got. My novels share in theme and style, but each one is a full stand-alone story, so they can be read in any order you wish. If this is your first Anna del Mar novel, here’s my philosophy: brawn + brain + heart = sizzling-hot heroes.
I write at two levels of heat, hot romantic suspense like The Asset and The Stranger, and scalding-hot, complex, explicit, kinky erotic romance like At the Brink and To the Edge. If you enjoyed At the Brink, you will love To the Edge. As always, proceed at your own discretion and above all…enjoy.
AdM
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Excerpt from The Asset by Anna del Mar
Also by Anna del Mar
About the Author
Chapter One
Clara
My first attempt at submission went from failure to disaster in a whiff. An odd scent teased my nose and rattled my nerves. A prickle of uneasiness crept up my spine. I craned my neck, trying to figure out where the smell was coming from, but I couldn’t see much beyond the narrow slits of my sequined velvet mask.
Note to blog: velvet masks may shield, tease and entice, but visibility sucks.
I heard a small sound, a swish maybe? It came from my right somewhere, from the hallway that led to the powder room. I tried twisting my body around in the cage, but I could barely move. My arms were fastened above my head and my ankles were strapped to the bars near the floor. I sniffed the air again. The smell seemed fainter. Maybe it was my imagination, trying to shock some common sense into me and put an end to today’s little experiment.
I was alone in the old house. My companion had left twenty minutes ago, to find himself some coffee in town, he’d said. He’d left me cuffed in the cage so that I could reflect on my irreverent conduct. Right. Good luck with that, buddy. The truth was that he probably needed the caffeine boost in order to tackle a handful like me.
I let out a little groan. Sure, this was crazy, no two ways about it. Reckless my mother would say, risky and not exactly consistent with my usually sane behavior. But honestly? I had suppressed my life for others’ sake long enough.
But this? A seditious little voice nagged in t
he back of my mind. I tried to quiet it down, but maybe, just maybe, I’d pushed the edge a little too hard on this one. God, the things I did in the name of freedom.
The tight leather corset dug into my ribs. My arms ached. My legs were tired and my feet were beginning to cramp in the impossibly high heels.
Note to blog: kink garb isn’t exactly comfy.
Good God. I was actually going through with this. Me. Clara Luz. Attempting something so far out of my comfort zone, not to mention my family’s much-touted moral rectitude. I slumped in my bonds. Was I really so freaking desperate?
A week and a half ago, Annette Collins, the legendary editor of RelevantSex.com, had presented me with a unique proposition. Annette had been my advisor in grad school and as such, the only person who knew about my online adventures. From the beginning, she’d followed sextattle.com, the sex and romance blog I published—anonymously, of course.
It wasn’t as if I was particularly versed or gifted in these oh so very fascinating subjects. On the contrary. My relationship IQ measured pretty low on the success scale. But the blog wasn’t so much an advice column as it was a forum. Discussion questions came in through an unfiltered inbox, I posted them under different categories and people talked about them. I was good at research, so I mostly shared facts and links to helpful resources. I followed the old adage: those who can’t do, teach. Or, in my case, share online.
Initially, the blog had been an experiment, a grad school project that went unexpectedly viral. But after graduation, the blog transformed into a labor of love, a means to connect with people and the only possible way in which I could pursue my own journey, separate from that of my illustrious mother. These days the blog had a very respectable reach, solid advertising revenues and an expanding market that had caught Annette’s eye. She’d made me an excellent offer to merge my blog with RelevantSex.com.
The catch?
Annette wanted a trial run, a main feature to woo the editorial board and test my range, a fresh, raw take on the topic of sex and submission, a personal account of my first exploration of kink to tantalize her readers.
“It’s a fascinating subject,” she’d said during our meeting at LeMond’s Cafe in Adams Morgan. “Look at the movies. Look at the novels. The public is fascinated by kink, domination and submission. Your readers will be too. An exploration is totally relevant.”
“Then why don’t you assign someone who’s already on staff at RelevantSex.com?” I didn’t have any wisdom to share on the topic, zero, zip, nada. “Or better yet, why don’t you tackle it?”
“Because I might be biased on the subject.” She fastened her glimmering green eyes on my face. “Whereas you, my dear, are sure to bring a fresh perspective to our readers.”
Her naughty smile activated my Spidey senses and ignited my blush. I wasn’t a prude by any means, but kink? Yep, I’d bring a fresh perspective for sure. As to Annette, any lingering questions I may have had about the extent of her personal kink exposure were fully answered when she plunked down a long, comprehensive list of potential interview sources and references on the table.
Holy crap. I had a mental image of the sober pearl-decked Annette, dressed in black leather, whip in hand, red curls cascading down her back. I forced my mouth to close.
Annette’s project was intriguing but, given my leadership role at the Luz Foundation and my mother’s high profile, it was also dangerous to me, personally and professionally. I tried to err on the side of caution. “I might not be the right person for this one.”
“Nonsense.” She reached over the table and, after tucking a strand of my bangs behind my ear, trailed her fingers down my chin. “You are perfect.”
I had to shake off the shock. Had Annette just made a pass at me? No way. My overactive imagination was busy at work, again. Annette was a consummate professional and she’d been a mentor to me for many years. She was just trying to reassure me, something I needed, because I was torn. My brain twirled like a coin in the air, and I had no clue which one of my faces would come up at landing: dutiful Clara or her surly, rebellious twin?
“Come on, Clara.” Annette clasped her hands together and grinned. “Say yes. Please?”
Something about the idea of exploring sex’s kinky underworld had me shivering inside. I was curious and Annette was right. Her readers would eat it up. My readers would like it too. Most importantly, Annette’s proposal offered me an opportunity to reach the one thing I’d spent my entire adult life trying to achieve: freedom. The possibility of doing what I loved on my own terms and the chance to finally cut the ties that bound me to the family trust.
I couldn’t say no to freedom. I couldn’t say no to Annette or to the sense of excitement growing in me.
I took a deep breath and met Annette’s emerald stare. She gave me an encouraging nod. What the heck. I’d been wavering on the edge of this cliff for a while, but on that hot and humid September day, I jumped.
“I’ll do it.”
Now, almost a week and a half later, as I teetered on the balls of my feet, nearly hanging from the cuffs, the irony wasn’t lost on me. To cut the old ties, I’d had to accept some very real bonds. In my search for freedom, I’d stepped into a cage.
I let out a nervous giggle. It echoed in the empty house. Some would think I was exaggerating the scope of my predicament. They didn’t know my mother. Senator Margaret Luz had made sure to cut off all my avenues of escape as I grew up. After I finished grad school, nobody in DC would give me a job without her express consent. Instead of working for myself as I’d planned, she’d strong-armed me to work for her charity foundation.
As her only offspring, I was more of a prop than a person. Beyond birthing me, she’d designed me, selected the best genetic material she could buy from an impressive catalogue of sperm donors in order to create the perfect daughter. Sure, I owed her my existence, but my chances of meeting her high expectations had been zero from the start.
Of course, she didn’t know about my blog. She’d kill me if she did. She’d kill the blog too, and bury it forever. But Annette had gone where no one else had dared and offered me a unique opportunity. If this worked, it would be well worth the effort. I straightened my back. I wasn’t a Luz for nothing. I’d make it work.
I tested the cuffs and puffed. Where the hell was Mark Walker? My test Dom for the day was taking his sweet time getting his damn coffee. I gritted my teeth and groaned. Patience had never been my strong suit. Once I made my decision and committed to the venture, I’d considered the risks and, in true Luz fashion, planned and obsessed over every step.
I wasn’t an idiot, so I’d started by vetting Mark Walker thoroughly. Even though he’d come highly recommended by Annette, I’d commissioned a background investigation from one of Washington’s premier security firms. Yep, that was me, all right, ever the overachiever. Mark passed with flying colors, a model citizen in every way, requirement number one. A little adventure was exciting, but a sadist or a serial killer had no place in my risk assessment matrix.
To protect myself and my name, I’d also had Mark sign RelevantSex.com’s ironclad confidentiality agreement. Then I’d scheduled a preliminary meeting to make sure we were both on the same page. Our deal was kink 101, a limited intro to the BD part of BDSM, no intercourse or pain. Safety first.
I’d taken equal care when selecting the location for this meeting. The house where we used to summer when I was young was located smack in the middle of Avalon, an island in the Chesapeake Bay. The property was surrounded by a wildlife refuge on all sides. I’d inherited the Victorian beauty from my grandfather, who’d been senator before my mother.
I’d always felt safe here. The house held some of the best memories of my life. It was out of the way, accessible only by ferry, remote, secluded and most importantly, way outside of my mother’s radar, a fact that started to feel a lot like a liability when the odd s
cent tickled my nostrils again.
This time around, I recognized the smell. Smoke. My heart tripped. Alarm crawled up my spine like a bunch of daddy longlegs. I tugged on the cuffs. They clanged on the bars, but they didn’t give. I craned my neck and, peering through the mask’s narrow slits, caught a glimpse of white wisps trickling from the hallway into the living room.
Oh my God. Smoke. A fire? No way. The house hadn’t been used in years. Mark and I were the only ones here and we’d done nothing that could possibly start a fire. Right?
Wrong.
I had a memory of Mark Walker as he stepped out of the bathroom holding the lit candle he’d used to introduce me to a little wax-on-ass play earlier today. Lit candle. Matches. Wicker wastebasket.
Holy shit.
My belly turned to ice. The key. Where the heck had Mark put the cuffs’ key? In his front shirt pocket, I remembered him teasing me with the act. Crap. I tugged on the cuffs. The cage rattled, my wrists smarted and yet the cuffs held. Where on earth was Mark Walker when you needed him?
I looked around the room, growing more alarmed by the moment. The wrist cuffs wouldn’t budge, but maybe if I freed my feet I could lift my knees and use my weight to bust the chain that connected the cuffs. I kicked off my right shoe, pointed my toes and contorted my foot, choking down gulps of panic. This was going to take some doing.
A fire. A freaking fire. I railed at a God who amused himself with stuff like this. Keep your head. Use your wits. Don’t panic. It would’ve been the Luz motto, if we’d had one of those. I ignored the terror squeezing my throat and kept working on the ankle strap. Success. My right foot came free. I started to work on the left strap right away. If I could only do the same with my wrists...
The sound of crackling echoed from the hallway, a low, husky growl. Holy Mary. Maybe I was having a nightmare. I really wanted to pinch myself awake. But there was the small problem of the cuffs. I was not going to die today.
My left foot came free. Hallelujah. I didn’t waste any time. I flexed my legs, pulled on the cuffs and, curling my knees into my stomach, added my weight. The chain didn’t break. I kept at it, but I needed plan B. I tried screaming for help, but the gag in my mouth muffled my cries and the screech that pierced my ears sounded more like a yowling she-cat.