Dark Submissive (Dark Masters Book 2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  It’s the wrong question to ask.

  He glared at the road. “Suffocating on Vega’s pussy.”

  I blow out a breath, glaring. “Forget I asked.”

  As if the powers between lust and detriment opened and joined forces for a moment, his cell phone rang, offering us a way out. He dug his phone from his back pocket and peered at the caller with disdain.

  I knew who it was before he even answered. Only one man put that confused bitter look on his face.

  “What do you want, Samuel?”

  My ears pricked. I missed him. I listened intently.

  Jaxon slowed the car at a red light and peered over at me briefly. “She’s right here. Interesting…” He answered Sam’s unknown question with reluctance. I wondered how much he knew. Probably everything.

  Jaxon had few friends, and maybe that wasn’t what Sam was, but at some point, when he needed advice he always turned to Master Samuel.

  “Neither of us are in the mood,” he grumbled, and then listened before blowing out a stream of angered breath. “Fine. We’ll be there in thirty.” He hung up without saying goodbye.

  “What did he want?” I asked.

  “He invited us to dinner at his place.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You’re not my sub anymore, Miya. You can do whatever you want.” He cringed, as if that fact made his entire body ache. “But I promise you, if you go down to his dungeon, I will cane you until you’re permanently damaged.”

  I picked apart his words for what they were. Trepidation and fear. The last time we’d been to Sam’s, we’d broken every cardinal sin in one night. And Mistress Vega had been there. “Why did he invite us to dinner?” What did Sam have up his sleeve? We’d said our goodbyes to each other. He knew I loved Jaxon.

  He peered out the window. “He’s interviewing possible subs. He wants you and I to act as an example.”

  I sat back in my seat, holding my hands on my lap. “Jaxon,” I warned, my bottom lip quivering.

  Not again, a little voice whispered helplessly. And then it whispered, run. I ignored it, mostly because I didn’t want to ignore it.

  “I’ll talk to him when we get there,” he promised. “The women aren’t supposed to arrive until after dinner.”

  “Will Vega be there?”

  He frowned. “I don’t think so. Having her there last time was my idea.”

  Of course, it was. Why couldn’t that bitch crawl back under the rock she’d surfaced from?

  He tapped out a text I didn’t bother to ask about. A minute later, he said, “No Vega, baby.”

  I marginally relaxed. But only a tiny bit. We were going to Samuel’s, and nothing good could come of that. Nothing. His familiar mansion came into view. I couldn’t wait to see him at the same time I wanted to run away into the night. The large gate out front was open. Jaxon drove through and I spotted that there were only two cars parked in the ornate driveway. Both expensive. We got out and made our way—not touching; I was pissed—through the stone walkway to his front door.

  I was surprised when Nina opened the door. She worked for him. I wasn’t sure in what capacity. Maybe his housekeeper/motherly figure. She smiled wide when she saw me. “Miya,” she crooned pulling me into a hug I desperately needed.

  I wrapped my arms around her and inhaled the scent of coffee and lavender on her skin. She was middle-aged, with a kind, knowing wrinkle between her brows that shoved through bullshit for the truth with alarming accuracy. Her blonde hair was in a pony tail and her familiar black uniform made her look both capable and approachable. I didn’t know why the sight of her made me feel like I was missing something.

  Some integral part of being a woman. Some wispy piece of my being felt like it desperately needed to find herself.

  But where?

  “Mr. Damon,” she greeted, not moving to touch him. Her tone was cold and unimpressed with Jaxon.

  He put his hands in his pockets and quirked a brow at her. “It’s nice to see you again, Nina.”

  “Hmm,” she grunted, taking my hand. “Can’t say the same. Anyway, dinner will be ready in ten minutes. We’re having filet minion, roasted potatoes, and bacon wrapped green beans. Can I get you anything to drink? Wine?” She was only looking at me as she led me through the living room and to the bar.

  I hid my smile by biting my top lip and nodded. “Please.”

  Jaxon struggled with addiction. I didn’t blame him. He had an empty void in him. He tried to fill it with anything he could get his hands on. Anything to numb the darkness and make it more tolerable. He once told me his drink limit was two. “I’m a miserable drunk. Miserable and angry.”

  I was shocked when I heard him say, “I’ll take an Old Fashioned, Nina. Thanks for asking.”

  He hadn’t done anything wrong by ordering a drink. We’d shared drinks together before. But it felt different when he said it before. He hadn’t requested the drink. The drink had requested him. Why was he drowning out his darkness when things were supposed to be better between us?

  Weren’t they?

  A pit formed in my stomach.

  Nina grunted again and ducked behind the bar in Samuel’s expansive living room. The last time I’d been there played in my mind. On my knees, cavities filled, the word slut swirling in my mind; many sordid firsts had transpired in this mansion. I wondered, not for the first time, about Sam’s degradation kink. What made him degrade the same thing he craved pleasure from?

  It made me sad for him. All of us would eventually hit that low point. We’d all end up in the dark in our own basement and have to make a choice. I just hoped he made the right one.

  “I didn’t ask, because I don’t like you, Mr. Damon.” Nina popped the top on a bottle of chilled white wine and poured a thick stream into a long-stemmed glass.

  Nina was my spirit animal. Brave. Immune to Jaxon’s looks. His power. I was none of those things. I was quite susceptible to his beauty. And all the things he did with it.

  “Nina,” someone warned, and I turned to find Samuel Carter entering the room.

  It was stupid, but I got butterflies. The moment our eyes locked, I saw everything we’d done together play in his clear blue eyes. He was dressed in a navy dress shirt, and tan slacks. Everything he wore was tailored perfectly to his tall muscled frame. His whiskey-toned hair was slick back and off his face. I didn’t feel lust when I looked at him. I didn’t feel want. I felt a bond. Something that only him and I understood. It felt safe and tender. It felt special.

  His lips lifted in the corner. “My Sweet,” he said, warmth in every syllable.

  It was the second time tonight where I cherished a hug from someone other than Jaxon. He pressed his lips over my ear. “You want to talk?”

  For once, I didn’t have to look to Jaxon for his confirmation. “Please,” I whispered back.

  “After dinner?” he checked.

  I kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Master Sam.”

  He winked. “Be careful.” He tapped his temple. “I’ve got a long memory, My Sweet.”

  I blushed and looked away. Jaxon was leaning against the bar, inky hair thick and tousled from my fingers. His feet were crossed, and his elbow was on the bar. His dark eyes found mine over the top of his glass, filled half-way with his rich amber liquid. He drank it down to the bottom, eyes watching me the entire time. “Keep ‘em coming, Nina.” He slammed the empty glass down.

  “Are you sure you should be drinking?” Sam asked, not hiding his judgement.

  Jaxon gave him a cocky grin. “Why not? My entire life is falling down around me. The only woman I love is blushing at another man after spending the night taking every inch of me. She’s only here because she hasn’t figured out she can leave. Like a dog who doesn’t realize their leash is lying on the ground.”

  Everyone paused, froze, and then turned to stare at him. I, on the other hand, took the glass of wine on the bar waiting for me and downed it.

  He was wrong. He wasn’t my leash.

  Lo
ve was.

  “I’ll handle things from here,” Sam said to Nina, who looked all too pleased to leave.

  She gave my arm a pat before leaving me with them. Traitor.

  “What is he talking about?” Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing both Jaxon and I like we were disappointing him in every way.

  Jaxon sighed so tiredly I felt sad. “What am I talking about, Miya?” he asked softly.

  I looked to Sam for some sort of relief. He was none. “He’s no longer my dominant.”

  His eyes widened in disbelief and he laughed, like I told him I was going to become a circus clown. “What do you mean? He’s no longer your dominant?”

  “I’m going to buy her a minivan,” Jaxon explained, reaching over the bar to grab the whiskey bottle. He poured his glass full.

  I didn’t know what that meant, but Sam seemed to know. He looked taken aback. “No shit,” he mumbled, blowing out a breath of shock. “Well, that’s… interesting. I take it going back in time didn’t work?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why not, My Sweet?” he questioned gently.

  I bit back my tears. “I don’t want to hurt to love him anymore.” I fought my tears. “He wants to hurt me. I want to heal him. For every scab I give him, he gives me a fresh wound.”

  Sam ran his fingers through his whiskey hair. “Let’s go sit at the kitchen table and talk. Come on.” He took Jaxon’s hand, and then mine, and then the only person in charge brought us to the dining room.

  The table was set, the food was hot. We took our places. Jaxon and I together. Sam across from us. We made our plates, took a bite, and then Sam set down his fork.

  “This is your fault,” he stated.

  I paused, finding that he was looking right at me. “Mine? How is this my fault?”

  “Because you’re an innocent angel trying to play with demons. You come in here, ruffle your feathers, take us under your spell, and then we’re left with cleaning up the fallen feathers as our dark soul’s sob. You tempted a demon, Miya, and now you’re blaming him for biting you. For toying with you. For doing what demons do. Do you think it’s easy for Jaxon to stop? No easier than it was for you to start. There’s no going back. There’s no going forward. He is a sexual Dominant. You are an angel with scars and innocence. What the hell are you two doing together?” He slammed his fist into the table.

  I jumped.

  Jaxon took a drink.

  Sam pointed his finger at us both but stopped at me. “What do you want. Tell him. Every single thing, even if you think you can’t have it.”

  I swallowed hard, peering through my hair to find Jaxon’s beautiful brown eyes on me. I looked at my place. “I want… I want him.”

  “That’s not good enough. You have him. I mean what do you want from him?”

  “I want him to love me. I want him to leave Vega in the past. I want him to let me breathe. I want him to know that I love him, and that—” I broke down without warning. “I want him to be normal. I want to be normal. I want my childhood back. I want his childhood back. I want to skip rope and eat ice cream on the street. I wanted him to have been hugged and loved. I want us to not have been abused. I want us to know only love. I want things not to be so fucked up. I love everything we do together, but the crass orders. The control overshadows everything. I want him to fuck me hard. I want him to fuck me soft. I want him to spank me. I want him to kiss me. I like kinky sex. I like making love to him. I don’t like it when I say something good and he turns it into something bad. I want to be his age. I want him to be my age. I want to have his kids. And to take his last name. I want to be someone else!” I wailed, shaking uncontrollably and sobbing into my plate.

  Jaxon pulled my seat over and then grappled, fighting with me. I didn’t know why I hit him. Maybe I’m not hitting him. Maybe I’m hitting the boy who molested me. The men who didn’t love me. The people who never wanted me. Hitting myself for falling in love with a man who was as fucked up as me. For loving him that much more because he’s the only person who understands what it’s like in my head. The only person brave enough to fold me on his lap and wrap me in his arms, and sob with me.

  10. – Jaxon

  Good had to exist.

  So I may exist, too. I am not good. No use in pretending. No use in wanting something I may never be. I am bad. I do bad things. Think bad things. Want them, too. I am comfortable in the shadows, doling out punishments and tossing out orgasms.

  Miya was good. She was perfect just the way she was. Strong, fierce, brave, beautiful, trusting—the list was endless. To know she’d rather be someone else, when she was the only reason my heart still beat, was heartbreaking in a way nothing else had ever been for me.

  I held her, rocking her. I wanted to comfort her. It was ironic to me that a man who took great pleasure in breaking her, wanted to put her back together. But that’s the way it was.

  She deserved to be whole. I wanted to make her that way. I’m the only one who could. And maybe… she could put me back together, too.

  A since of resolve settled over me. And in moments, I’m okay letting my past go. I’m perfectly fine not being that man if this new one can make my Miya happy.

  I pressed a kiss to her cheek, to her forehead. To her lips. Her neck. I kissed her nose. Her hairline. I left no part of her face untouched by my lips. When I looked over, Sam was gone. That sly bastard.

  I made a mental note to send him a thank you card. Written in blood, of course. Or an edible arrangement.

  “I love you,” I promised, my voice unrecognizable. “There will come a day when you are happy to be you.”

  She sniffed, denying my words with a heartbroken whimper.

  I did that to her.

  “Miya,” I started, my voice breaking. “That day will come. You will look in the mirror and see what I see. A strong, incredible, sexy, one of a kind woman. Tell me what you need. I will give it to you. Anything you need.”

  “Anything?” She pulled back, and I knew the next words out of her mouth would destroy me.

  I would let her. “Anything.”

  “I need to be alone.”

  My black heart dispersed inside of me. “For how long?”

  She put her hand to my face. “I don’t know.”

  “A month?” I prompted. “Two?”

  “Maybe longer. I can’t do this right now.” She waved her hands around, meaning us. She couldn’t do us anymore. “I feel like I’m empty. All day and all night. The only time I feel alive is with you. But you hold the power to kill me.”

  I’d never seen her cry harder. She completely broke.

  In my arms. I knew what I had to do. I had to let her go.

  “Okay,” I whispered, my breath leaving me. “You can have your time.”

  She cried harder, like she wanted me to deny her.

  She probably did. That was our pattern.

  Instead, I refused to let it happen. “You tell me what you need, and I will give it to you. I’ll get you a new apartment. I can’t do anything about your scholarship. It’s in my trust. But I can be a silent enforcer. I can take a step back.”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck, holding on so tightly I couldn’t breathe. I welcomed it. Let the lack of breath cloud the absolute downpour waiting to take me under.

  She nodded.

  To all of it.

  I left her with Sam that night. I kissed her goodbye, and she fought me when I tried to leave. She staged a war in Sam’s living room. She fought so hard I knew I had to fight harder. Sam helped me, combatting her swings and tears.

  I didn’t even get to hug her. Didn’t get to say I loved her.

  Didn’t get to ask if she’d ever come back.

  I had to trust that she would.

  Or there was no coming back from losing her.

  PART THREE

  The spark of hope…

  1. – Miya

  Life was a road, with turn offs, forks, roadkill in your path, sunshine in you
r eyes, crashes along the way, and peace offerings. I was nineteen when I left Jaxon Damon.

  Nineteen when my entire life, soul, and body crashed into the abyss that was him.

  I was twenty-one now. The moment Samuel let me leave his mansion, I did. I took the cash he gave me and ran with my tail tucked between my legs and tears trailing down my face. I had to get away from Portland. From every single thing that wanted me to stay.

  It hadn’t been easy. Leaving cost money. It cost everything I had. I didn’t want to take Sam’s money. I wanted to do this on my own. Fail on my own. But I needed it, and I spent the better half of the first two years after leaving Portland paying him back. I sent checks in envelopes with short letters and no return address.

  “Make a wish,” someone said.

  I closed my eyes and pulled the only wish from my soul. And then I blew my candles out on my glaringly pink birthday cake.

  Axel grinned at me from across the table. Naomi clapped her hands excitedly. Penn whooped behind me, shaking my shoulders. These people were my friends, but they did nothing to expunge the loneliness. My boss, Clark, a crooked man with an even crookeder toupee, clasped a meaty hand down on my free shoulder.

  “Eat your cake and get back to work. The bar’s filling up.”

  Technically, it was a sports bar. More wings and football games, than peanuts and trash talk. I smiled and took the piece of cake offered to me as my coworkers regaled me with tales of their twenty-first birthday stories. I pretended to listen, but I never did.

  I never heard anything but my own thoughts.

  “What did you wish for?” Axel asked me.

  Axel Finch was my age. Hair the color of amber strokes and fire, this beautiful shade of red that made people take two looks. His eyes were greener than moss, and his smile made me smile back. I liked him.

  Only liked.

  I didn’t bother to love anyone anymore.

  I peered up at him, and his eyes grew soft. He knew I was “far away,” as he put it, whenever I got lost in my thoughts. Which was often.