Blackmore’s Night drifted through the room, adding a Celtic feel.
His bed was assembled and even made. Towels hung neatly on the bathroom racks.
“More livable now, isn’t it?” Sam flattened a final box and called to Linda, “Time to head out, missy. There’s stock to feed.”
Valerie beside her, Linda emerged from the kitchen and smiled at Ghost. “Everything is put away in here, but it’ll probably take you a few days to orient yourself.”
“Bless you both. I am clueless when it comes to kitchens.” He shook his head. “My wife always unpacked that room after the one time I tried, and she ended up rearranging everything.”
Linda motioned toward Valerie. “She directed. I followed orders.”
Blue eyes alight, Valerie laughed. “It was fun. I had kitchen unpacking down to a science before I reached my teens. I even created my own protocol with rules like: pots and pans live by the stove.”
Created, hmm? He eyed her. “Your mother didn’t teach you?”
Her expression darkened, then the cloud blew away, and she shrugged. “No, she had work. Since it usually took several days to hire a housekeeper, unpacking was my job.”
As a child?
She’d learned to cook from the housekeepers…who’d also treated her illnesses. Had her parents been involved in her life at all? “Your experience is to my benefit. Thank you.”
After seeing Linda and Sam out the door, Ghost stopped Valerie from following by curling his hand around her arm. “If you have a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you about our scene at the club. I would have called before, but I don’t have your phone number.”
She hesitated. “I… Um, of course.”
He ran a finger down her cheek. “It’s not an exam, Professor. There are no right or wrong answers.”
With a low laugh, she relaxed. “In that case, ask away.”
Better. Now to ease into what he wanted to know… “First, at lunch, you mentioned you had an interest and maybe a need for learning self-defense.”
“Well, yes.”
“If you don’t mind private lessons, I can show you the basics.”
“Really?” Her blue eyes lit. “I’d love it.”
“We’ll tackle the essentials: how to break free, how and where to strike. It won’t make you a contender in martial arts, of course. But I’d like to improve your chances of getting to safety.”
The thought of her in danger was one he simply couldn’t tolerate.
When she nodded, he smiled. “Good.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out one of his cards. “Here’s my number. Give me a call, and we’ll work out times.”
She was smiling. “I will. Thank you.”
Now to move into trickier territory.
She’d said she didn’t want to be involved with anyone. However, as an experienced Dom, he could read body language and knew she also felt the chemistry between them.
So…he’d invite her to explore more while leaving her room to retreat if she needed.
“You have a beautiful place here,” she murmured. “Beth showed me some of the hidden spots—she calls them garden rooms.”
He chuckled. She’d given him an excellent opening. “There are many things about this place that aren’t immediately noticeable.” Arm around her waist, he leaned on the railing over the patio and pointed down. “Like the steel eyebolts in the lanai posts and beams.”
She leaned forward. “There are a lot of them. Did Jessica have a fondness for hanging plants?”
A laugh escaped him. “No, they’re for dangling submissives. The eyebolts are anchors for restraints.”
* * *
Oh gods. Valerie’s eyes widened. Who would have thought? Master Z would restrain Jessica right out there on the patio? She swallowed hard. “I suppose someone who owns a BDSM club would be interested in bondage.”
“No question about it. Then again, a lot of people enjoy bondage.” Finn tugged on her hair. “How about you? Did you enjoy being strapped down?”
Aaand as if he’d flipped a switch, she was far too aware of the rock-hard arm around her waist. Of his fresh aquatic-citrus scent that made her want to burrow her face against his neck and sniff.
No. Remember, Valerie, no involvement. Then again, she’d decided simple hookups would be all right.
What would this Shadowlands Master do if she admitted she’d loved being tied down?
Under the impact of his keen green eyes, hers dropped. “I did. Yes.”
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
She lifted her gaze.
He wasn’t smiling, but a crease appeared in his cheek. “Everything we did—including my restraining you—was fun. Isn’t enjoyment the point?”
It was, and she should get over feeling wrong about having sexual feelings. Blame it on her upbringing. Too many men in both American and Arabic cultures pushed their beliefs that “good” women shouldn’t like sex.
But she was old enough and smart enough to see past those biases. To identify—if not conquer—her insecurities.
Really, she’d been fine when she and Barry visited the BDSM group parties. Her loss of confidence had started when he wanted a slave. When he said she wasn’t meeting his needs. Then came Alisha and Kahlua with their constant put-downs—and Barry’s delegating her to only being his housemaid and financial support.
Her mouth firmed. It was going to take work, but in time, she’d get past her lack of confidence. After all, she’d managed to overcome the feeling of being worthless instilled by her parents. At least until this past year.
“You’re right.” She pulled in a determined breath. “In fact, I hope you’ll feel like doing it again. Doing more.” Her words were firm, although inside, she was shaking. What if he—
“Now, I was hoping you’d say that. Especially since I saw—and approved—your application for membership in the Shadowlands.” He pulled her closer and kissed her temple. “I won’t ask you to stay tonight since you don’t know me well enough. But Friday or Saturday, I’d like to see you at the club. We’ll find out what else you’re interested in.”
She stared down at the eyebolts on the post and felt the quiver of excitement. It was why she’d joined the club, right?
But…no relationship. She hesitated. Be clear so you don’t lead someone on. “I want to play, but, Finn, I haven’t changed my mind about…anything more.”
“I understand, pet.” He pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and the strands fell to touch her shoulders. He combed his fingers through, then tugged, tilting her head back. “What day?”
“Saturday. I’ll be there Saturday.”
Chapter Eleven
Arriving at the Shadowlands shortly before opening, Zachary stopped in the entry to evaluate the guard behind the desk.
Dressed in a dark red, button-up shirt and black jeans, he had short dark hair with a mustache and trimmed beard scruff. Intelligence and determination gleamed in his brown eyes.
Very good.
“Welcome to the Shadowlands.” The guard smiled. “I’m new so I don’t recognize everyone yet. Are you a member?”
Behind Zachary, Finlay entered, obviously catching the question. He laughed. “In a manner of speaking, he is. He owns the place. “Master Z, this is Fyodor Koslov, who goes by Koslov. He’ll be here most weekends.”
The guard rose. “Sir.”
Zachary reached across the desk. “It’s good to meet you, Koslov.”
As they shook hands, Zachary noted the firm grip. The locations of calluses on the hand implied martial arts…and guitar. The posture suggested military.
As Finlay stayed to talk to the guard, Zachary headed into the club, pleased with not only the guard, but the manager, as well.
The Colonel was an excellent judge of character.
When Jessica arrived a couple of hours later, he took her on a walk through the club. Zachary had already made the rounds once, talked with the members, and assessed the changes in the atmosphere. It’d been d
ifficult to rein in his temper at the damage done to the Shadowlands community.
But Jessica soothed his ire as only she could do. Was there anyone more beautiful than his wonderfully pregnant submissive?
“What did Nolan’s babysitter say about adding Sophia to her charges tonight?” Zachary asked. Their new home was not far from Beth and Nolan’s, so Jessica had dropped Sophia off there and caught a ride with them.
“Like Beth said, she loves children and was disappointed Sophia was sound asleep. I warned her Grant and Connor would probably sneak out of bed to try to play with our girl.”
Nolan and Beth’s boys adored Sophia.
“They’ll be delighted when you give them a new baby to dote on.” Smiling, Zachary put his hand on Jessica’s rotund belly, enjoying the return kick from their unborn child. This time, he hadn’t coerced the obstetrician to learn its gender.
Jessica patted his hand. “Another month to go.”
“Jessica, you’re back. Finally!” The squeal of joy came from a submissive with green-streaked brunette hair. Previously a trainee, Tabitha had dropped out after discovering she didn’t enjoy a high level of submission.
After a glance at Zachary for permission, Tabitha gave Jessica a warm hug. “Look how pregnant you are!”
Behind the submissive, a lanky Dom in shiny black leather shifted impatiently.
Releasing Jessica, Tabitha motioned to the Dom. “Master Z, this is Dogget who joined about a month ago. Dogget, Master Z owns the Shadowlands.”
Dogget’s expression closed.
“How are you, Dogget?” When Zachary shook his hand, the man’s resentment was quite apparent. He was likely a friend of Scott Hicks.
His animosity would undoubtedly increase if his membership fee was one of Hicks’ unauthorized discounts. The reduced dues and free memberships were for people providing services. No service, no discount.
Well, he’d let Finlay handle the problem children. The Colonel was well up to the task.
At eleven, Ghost heard a soft chime of three notes over the intercom system—the Shadowlands’ heads-up to gather for announcements. Of course, Z had already prepped everyone with an advance email.
Scenes ended, and members congregated on one side of the bar.
“People.” In his usual black silk shirt and black pants, Z stood by the bar. “As you can see, Jessica and I are back from Europe. Finally. If you hadn’t heard, my mother broke her leg while in France. Jessica and I went over to care for her—and then she contracted pneumonia, so our stay was longer than anticipated.”
“Poor Jessica,” someone behind Ghost muttered and added, “I’ve met Madeline Grayson. She’s scarier than Master Sam.”
Z continued, “I wasn’t able to keep up with what was happening here in the Shadowlands. I want to thank you for your patience—and promise we’ll try to get things back to normal.”
The pleased murmur was punctuated by a few disgruntled snorts.
Off to one side, a man grumbled, “What the fuck is he talking about? Shit’s been good.”
“To that end”—Z’s voice grew louder—“I have asked Ghost to take over as manager, effective immediately.”
Rather than the stunned silence Ghost had anticipated, a hell of a lot of people cheered, and he was slapped on the back enough times to please a damn masochist.
The enthusiasm felt good.
Z motioned for him to come forward. Didn’t it figure the man would make a production of this?
No problem, though. After two decades of army life, Ghost was an old hand at enduring pomp and circumstance.
With a hand on his shoulder, Z said, “In case you haven’t met him, Ghost is one of our Masters, although he apparently dislikes the title.”
Jessica snickered and said loudly, “We decided to call him Colonel, instead.”
Laughter ran through the crowd along with agreement. He’d never escape the title now.
The little brat.
He had a feeling Valerie had a bit of brat in her, too. And how fun would that be?
Focus, Blackwood. “People, it’s an honor to be chosen for this position. I’ll do my best for you—and I ask that you come to me if there are any problems or concerns.”
When Z took a step back, Ghost continued, “There will be some changes coming. For one, dungeon monitoring will return to being done by the Masters for now rather than hired personnel.”
The announcement collected another cheer. He wasn’t the only person to notice that the hired DMs had been a waste of space.
“The hired waitstaff is also gone. Once again, submissives who want to serve drinks can sign up for a shift at the bar and receive a discount on their membership fees accordingly.”
More happy sounds and not merely for the cut in dues. Waiting tables was an easy way to meet people.
“Since we need more DMs than we have Masters, in April, we’ll offer training classes to expand the DM pool. As you know, the only way to get discounted membership fees is to be of service to the club—and this is one way. Applications and information about the requirements will be at the bar.”
There were interested nods. Good.
Time to give Wrecker’s cohorts a warning. “Anyone who’s gotten a discount recently, I’ll be in touch to see what service you plan to provide.”
He heard Z’s low chuckle. Because there were several Doms with sour expressions, giving what-the-fuck growls. Wrecker’s friends.
“My turn,” Z murmured, then addressed the members. “People. I created the Shadowlands to give us all a safe and nurturing community in which to enjoy the lifestyle. A place to learn and share, where safe, sane, and consensual—or risk-awareness—applies.”
Unlike Ghost’s rasp, Z’s voice was resonant and compelling. “Here is where tolerance is practiced. We enjoy different kinks—as well as different lifestyles, relationship dynamics, sexual preferences, identities, and backgrounds. I want to be clear: intolerance is a crash-and-burn offense in this club, right along with not obtaining consent before touching or playing. So, to all of us…let’s be mindful and respectful.”
Ghost let Z’s polite warning percolate through the membership before grinning and adding his own growled threat, “Or I’ll be pulling you aside for a polite…chat.”
Yep, from the laughter, his timing was good.
Olivia gave him a smile and a nod, as did Alastair who stood with Max near the center. Andrea gave him a thumbs-up.
The bigots hadn’t ruled for long. Now it was time to repair the fractures and restore the community spirit.
Chapter Twelve
Valerie had never started an evening so late in her whole life. But Linda had said Ghost, as manager, would be occupied during the busiest hours—and likely to be free after midnight.
Even better, Barry probably wouldn’t be here this late. Not that she’d let him drive her away if he was, but since construction crews started early, he rarely stayed up late.
Smiling, she looked around. The atmosphere in the club felt different this Saturday night.
To begin with, rather than a surly, disheveled mess, the guard at the door had been welcoming and efficient.
And she was an actual member now, too.
Before coming, she’d read the club emails and watched the video of Master Z and Ghost from last night where they’d spoken of the change of management.
She’d watched it a second time because…Ghost.
Why, oh why, did she have to lust after him? Especially now he was manager. For submissives, a man in power was a lure all its own, even without adding in his hard body and firm jaw. And air of command.
She sighed. Would he even remember she was coming to the club tonight?
Maybe. After all, he’d probably seen her name on the orientation class signup.
It’d been an interesting two hours, filled with information about safety, proper behavior, and the various rules and traditions. Master Jake had been very thorough.
Pausing, she studied the r
oom, spotting quite a few Dominants wearing a Master’s gold bands.
In a dungeon monitor vest, Olivia nodded at Valerie.
Farther down the room at a St. Andrew’s cross, Mistress Anne was laying out toys from her bag. Off to one side, Ben saw Valerie and winked at her.
She smiled back and kept smiling. It was so different this time. Knowing who the people were helped her relax and be comfortable. Moving so often as a child had taught her how to be comfortable with strangers and turn them into friends if provided the opportunity. Linda had given her that chance. Thank you, Linda.
She noticed a higher percentage of people her age here tonight. So wonderful. A few were even older, like a white-haired man who must be in his seventies—with his equally senior wife. And, wow, the Dom was a wizard with a soft-stranded flogger.
After a minute, she recognized the music was from Razed in Black—Master—and quite a few of the people with impact toys were using the driving beat.
In a roped-off area, a submissive was swaying his hips to the rhythm very enthusiastically. Losing patience with hitting a moving target, his Top delivered a fast flurry of cane strikes across the sub’s well-padded ass.
When the submissive squeaked and held still, Valerie—and several other onlookers—had to muffle their laughter.
Then a spate of ugly words caught her attention.
“Look, Piers, it’s a brown subbie, all alone with no lezzie lover.”
“Aww, maybe she needs some dick to bring her back to the right side.”
Valerie turned.
Natalia?
Two obnoxious Doms had cornered the slender Hispanic woman.
The flabby blond man yanked on the submissive’s dark hair, as the big muscular ginger crowded her on her other side.
“Go away, Uttley,” Natalia said to the blond. “You, too, Piers. Or I’ll call for a DM.” The words were good, but the shakiness in Natalia’s voice was like raw meat to starving dogs.
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