As she swallowed past a desert-dry throat, he continued. “Sure she ran. What slave hasn’t had second thoughts? But returned to where they belong, they’ll kiss your feet in gratitude. Hell, I’ve had them whine at the door to be taken back. Haven’t you?”
Men were talking. Agreeing with him.
Forcing her head up, Piper saw the disgusted stare of a Master. One who considered her scum for having run.
“It’s good to have you back, slave.” The Defiler’s tone was warm. With an arm around her waist, he drew her closer. His whisper in her ear held no warmth at all. “Beg me to take you back, worthless. Kneel—and beg.”
Beg. Nausea swept through her at the word. At the memories. He’d loved to make her beg. If allowed to speak, she had to beg for food, to use the bathroom, to be unchained, to stop a whipping.
Never. Again. Her jaws clamped shut.
Around her, the world went fuzzy. Her knees were bending, crumbling like fractured twigs in front of a steamroller. Each gasping breath tore through her as she fought her body. Fought against the memory of pain, the training that forced her to respond to the slightest order.
Something smacked hard against the Defiler’s forearm, and his grip loosened. Someone pulled her away and caught her as her legs buckled. She was held against a man’s hard body.
A breath brought her the scent of leather and pine. Sir Ethan. Her Ethan.
“Slow breaths, Piper. Pursed lips. Breathe out. Feel my arm around your waist. Listen to my voice.”
She tried, tried so hard. The band around her chest was tighter than his hold on her.
“Worthless, you get back—”
“Leave my submissive alone, Serna.” Sir Ethan’s voice was cold—and even.
“She’s mine, you bastard.” The Defiler’s voice lifted. “Listen to this, people. The last time I saw my slave was at a party where Worthington insisted that slave contracts weren’t valid. She disappeared not five minutes later. Now, here she is with him.”
Against the whispering around them, Serna’s voice turned ugly. “You’re a fucking thief, Worthington, and I’m going to get you tossed out of this place, you bastard.”
“That’s quite doubtful. In case you didn’t hear—slavery is illegal. You can have someone sign anything you want—that doesn’t make it enforceable.” Sir Ethan was rubbing her back. “Easy, poppet. I’m here.”
Trying to force her legs to work, she leaned against him.
“The contract is enforceable for people in the lifestyle, and you are going to pay for what you’ve done.” Serna’s words were cold. So cold. “I’ll get you blacklisted from every club in the world
Oh no. The Defiler would go after Sir Ethan. Piper tried again to find air as a new terror filled her veins. Sir Ethan would be hurt, would be—
“Take it upstairs, Masters.” The dungeon monitor walked over. “You’re disrupting the dungeon.”
“Of course, of course.” Serna exerted his charm. “Forgive us.”
Chills crawled over Piper’s skin, and her stomach turned over.
“Come, sweetheart, let’s get you out of here.” Sir Ethan drew her closer to his side.
She nodded. Her hand touched her bare neck. What if Serna grabbed her, put his collar on her, took her away. He’d beat her, chain her in the darkness, and…
Bile rose in her throat. Her stomach lurched.
“Can’t. Sick.” She tore out of Sir Ethan’s hold and ran across the room to the woman’s restroom.
In a stall, she dropped to her knees and vomited until only dry heaves remained. Dizzy, shaking, she choked on sobs.
Yet, with every passing second, she tensed more. Her back was to the door. He might come in.
Head spinning, she staggered to her feet and out of the stall. After rinsing her mouth, she braced herself on the sink. The porcelain was cold against her clammy skin.
In the dungeon, the angry voices were gone. The dungeon monitor must have forced both Masters to go upstairs.
But Serna never lost. He wouldn’t here, either. Not in a BDSM club filled with Masters and slaves. So many owners felt justified in recapturing a runaway. Not everyone agreed, but even then, people in the lifestyle almost never interfered with how someone else practiced.
The Defiler would win and take her away.
Someone would soon come to check on her, possibly to hold her until a decision was made. I need to get out of here.
Footsteps sounded in the short hallway and grew louder. Piper stiffened. Was someone here for her already? Her hands fisted.
The person who entered was slavegem. Naked, bruised, lashed. One eye puffy. Several inches taller than Piper, she was whipcord thin. Her stomach was concave, her breasts were sunken.
“Time to go, worthless.” Slavegem held a pair of handcuffs.
Just the sight of them made Piper’s stomach almost revolt again. Serna had left her handcuffed to a pipe in the basement for an entire month once; she still had the scars on her wrists. “The people here won’t let him take me.” Please, please, please. Sir Ethan, at least, would do everything he could to prevent it.
“People won’t know.” Slavegem’s face held no expression. “Cuz you and I are gonna leave through the emergency exit down here. Now, turn around, hands behind your back.”
As slavegem confidently moved forward, Piper stiffened. Memories flooded her of the slave’s jealous cruelty—tripping Piper, slapping her.
Piper had buckled under to everything—because she was worthless. “No.”
Slavegem’s expression turned to shock. No was a word never said by a slave.
When slavegem grabbed for her, Piper put all her anger and despair into a single punch. Right into slavegem’s gut.
Wheezing, unable to even scream, the slave landed on the floor in a curled-up ball.
Picking up the dropped handcuffs, Piper snapped one end around slavegem’s wrist and the other around the bottom leg of the stall.
Almost horrified at what she’d done, Piper looked down. Pity stirred her heart as she saw the cuts along slavegem’s side. Bruises from beatings. The woman was younger than Piper, not as educated, but just as emotionally needy. She’d been easy meat for Serna’s manipulations, and he’d loved setting them against each other.
She was as much a victim as Piper. So Piper offered the words that Sir Ethan had given her so many years ago. “The slave contract isn’t legal. Can’t be enforced. If you get yourself to a women’s shelter, they’ll help you.”
Sprawled out on the restroom floor, slavegem just stared at her.
Piper pulled in a breath. “Girl, look at me and look at yourself. Which of us would you rather be?”
Anguish filled slavegem’s face before she closed her eyes, blotting Piper out of her world.
All right then. On wobbly legs, Piper walked out of the restroom.
Near the sitting area where the Defiler had grabbed her, she saw Sir Ethan’s toy bag on a chair. Hurrying over, she pulled her purse and phone from the outer pocket.
Her heart was pounding faster…the fear was much, much worse because of the glimmer of hope. She straightened her spine and walked across the dungeon. Didn’t think. Didn’t feel. Walked past the scenes. Past the subbie dog cages.
The door. There. She shoved open the emergency fire door.
As the alarm blasted, she fled down the alley toward the busy street.
* * *
The alarm from the dungeon’s emergency exit blared out as Ethan was partway down the stairs.
Piper. He knew it.
He’d prevented Serna from following Piper into the restroom, but the bastard had refused to leave the dungeon until Ethan did. Once upstairs, Ethan had dumped Serna on Xavier—the only person here with enough authority to keep Serna in check.
Not bothering to check the restroom, Ethan hurried past the submissive cages, shoved the emergency door open, and stepped outside.
The alley was deserted.
Ice shivered through him. She’d
been so terrified, so lost. Had she come this way? She didn’t have the keys to his car. This wasn’t a safe neighborhood, not in the least.
But there was a taxi stand out on the street. Piper had used it before when she and Dixon arrived together.
Where are you, Piper?
As he stepped back inside, Xavier was tapping the door’s keypad to shut off the alarm. “You think Piper left this way?”
“I’ll check the restroom to be sure, but yes.” Ethan spotted Serna on the staircase landing.
The bastard wasn’t hurrying to the restroom where he would think Piper was. After glancing around, Serna walked back up the stairs. Why wasn’t he looking for Piper or his slave? Maybe because he knew they weren’t down here?
A stab of fear had Ethan checking the room for the emaciated blonde. She wasn’t in sight. He turned to Xavier. “Serna came in with a slave. She’s not here.”
Xavier’s frown deepened as he caught on. He focused on the submissive caged in the dog kennel to the right of the door. “How many people left through this door?”
“My Liege.” The tiny redhead bowed her head. “One. A black-haired woman. She was walking really fast.”
“Thank you,” Xavier said.
Piper had left on her own, hadn’t been kidnapped. The fist Ethan had made unclenched. “Let’s check the loo.”
The knot in his gut eased as he heard a woman yelling from inside the ladies’. That wasn’t Piper’s voice. He pushed open the door.
Serna’s slave lay on the floor, her wrist cuffed to one stall leg.
Undoubtedly Piper’s doing. Ethan’s thumb over his lips rubbed the smile away. “Well, slave, how did you get into this fix?”
“That bitch, worthless, she—” Her brain caught up, and her mouth snapped shut. “I mean, I was playing with Master’s handcuffs, and I made a mistake.”
A mistake, indeed. Ethan glanced at Xavier.
“What a mess,” Xavier muttered.
Ethan studied the slave, visualizing what had happened. She’d probably tried to grab Piper and haul her out. Under Serna’s orders—because the handcuffs would have had to come from him. Assault at best, kidnapping at worst. But this brainwashed woman would never incriminate her owner. She’d say everything was a misunderstanding, and the real criminal wouldn’t be the one facing charges.
Even worse, publicity of this sort could damage Piper’s business. She’d already had to rebuild her life once. A second time…? No.
He glanced at Xavier. “We handle this discreetly, yes?”
Mouth set in a flat, pissed-off line, Xavier nodded.
Ethan took out his spare handcuff key and unlocked the woman. “Serna is upstairs. Or if he left, you can use the phone in reception to call him.” He moderated his tone because anyone belonging to Serna deserved compassion, not anger. “I’d rather have someone take you to a women’s shelter.”
Rubbing her wrist, she sat up. “I belong with my Master.”
“As you wish.” Without a crystal ball, he couldn’t know if she truly wanted to be with Serna or was too frightened or shortsighted to leave him. “If you change your mind, we can help.”
She shook her head.
Turning, he walked out. Now, where would Piper have gone?
The taxi driver had probably assumed she was a prostitute, considering her skimpy clothing and lack of a coat. After powering off her phone so it couldn’t be tracked, Piper had sat rigid and silent all the way to her friend’s empty apartment.
Once inside, she’d rushed to the bathroom and thrown up. Again. Huddled on the cold linoleum floor, she shook and threw up some more.
An eternity later, she rinsed her mouth and staggered out into Alberta’s living room. The city lights streamed through the tenth-floor window and provided enough illumination to navigate across the room. She didn’t turn on any lamps. Someone might see.
He might see.
No, she wasn’t being rational. Not even close. But like any prey animal, she knew darkness was safety.
Dizzy, exhausted, she sat on the couch.
Too exposed.
Her legs wouldn’t let her stand again, so she crawled across the floor to the blackest corner. With her back pressed against the wall, she sat and trembled and stared at the door.
Waiting for the handle to turn.
“Beg me to take you back, worthless.” The Defiler’s voice whispered in her ears. “Beg me…beg me…beg me.”
He’d find her. He would. He’d hurt her. As memories dragged her into the abyss, her heart pounded against the rigid band around her ribs. She couldn’t breathe.
“Piper.” The voice was different. “It’s just a panic attack, poppet, it’ll pass soon enough. Now breathe with me—only with me.” Sir Ethan’s firm resonant voice, the clipped English accent, his hands on her upper arms. His calm watchful eyes.
Clutching the memory of Sir Ethan’s voice like a lifeline, she fought to crawl out of the icy void. Touch: fingers to thumb. Smell: Alberta’s cinnamon potpourri. See: the tops of the taller high-rises through the window. Square after square of golden light.
Eventually, she heard the ticking of the antique grandfather clock instead of the roaring in her head. As her breathing slowed, the tightness around her chest eased.
With a trembling hand, she wiped the tears from her face. Under the corset, her skin was damp with cold sweat. I want Ethan.
A raspy meow sounded from beside her knee.
She blinked down at the aged orange tabby. “Hey, Archimedes. Sorry if I scared you.”
After a moment, the cat stepped with arthritic slowness onto Piper’s lap, curled up, and settled in.
His weight and warmth were an anchor to reality. His fur was soft under her fingers. His purr the sweetest sound in the world. “Thank you, ol’ buddy. Are you all right with me staying here? I’ll call Alberta in the morning to make sure.”
In the taxi, all Piper could think about was finding an untraceable refuge. As she stroked the cat, her fingers still trembled. Boy, she’d really lost it this time.
Because she had a good reason. She shivered. The Defiler was here. In San Francisco. Here to retrieve her. Her heart slammed against her rib cage painfully.
Jerry and his vindictiveness. He would have told Serna everything about her.
Serna had come all this way to get her. That was just sick. She didn’t belong to him anymore. She didn’t.
But he didn’t see it that way. She might be worthless, but he’d never tolerate a slave running away. Look at how he’d sent slavegem to handcuff and drag her out of the club. He’d do anything, legal or not, to get his “property” back.
Was she going to have to move again? Leave her life behind? Leave Ethan? The stab of grief was so painful she hunched over.
A furry cheek rubbed against her chin in an attempt to soothe. But there was no comfort to be had.
What could she do?
She shook with the longing for Ethan. For his warmth, the sense of safety with him, even his authority. Because he was compassionate and caring where Serna was evil.
Could she go to Ethan’s home? Call him?
Her head was shaking no even before she finished the thought. He was a Master. He didn’t approve of non-consensual slavery, and he’d defended her. However, slaves who broke an Owner/property contract fell into a gray area—at least as far as the BDSM community was concerned. Serna would point that fact out to Xavier and the rest of the Dark Haven leaders.
She knew Xavier and Simon, even deVries, wouldn’t let Serna kidnap her. But there were so, so many other Masters there. They might decide against her.
Breathe. Slower. Slower.
Sir Ethan would defend her. He wouldn’t hand her over to Serna. He cared for her, and he was proud of her for leaving Serna. For making a life.
But if Sir Ethan spoke up for her, Serna would ruin him the same way he’d done with Master Fenton in Kansas. He’d destroy Ethan’s life. Get him thrown out of the BDSM community.
&n
bsp; God, Ethan. When he’d talked about leaving everything behind in England, she’d seen the pain in his eyes. He’d lost his family, home, city.
Here, Ethan was one of the founding members of Dark Haven. His best friends belonged to the club. He had business interests with Xavier.
Serna would rip his world apart.
She couldn’t live with herself if that happened.
Ethan was rich, gorgeous, a baronet. Brilliant and competent and wonderful. She was a slave who had broken her word and fled her Master. Not worthless—she wasn’t—but it would be better for him to find a submissive who wasn’t…damaged. One who wouldn’t destroy his life.
She needed to stay away. Once her brain wasn’t so fuzzy, when she wouldn’t burst into tears, when her voice wouldn’t shake.
Then she’d tell him it was over.
Chapter Twenty-One
Where the devil was Piper? After leaving another voicemail for her, Ethan shoved his cell into his pocket. On Saturday morning, Simon’s security business offices were almost empty. But the location had been the most convenient place to meet—and provided access to the search software.
Simon walked into his office and leaned a hip against his massive mahogany desk. His expression was bleak.
“No answer, I take it.” Xavier had taken a chair in the sitting area.
Unable to sit, Ethan paced across the room. “Do you have any leads at all, Simon?”
“I’m afraid not. She must have turned her phone off. DeVries says she hasn’t used her credit card or accessed any of her accounts.”
Xavier leaned forward. “Could she be hiding in her apartment and not answering the door?”
Ethan rubbed his face, feeling the stubble alongside his beard. “Dixon and Stan have a spare key fob to her place, and Dixon checked for me. She hasn’t been home. She isn’t at Chatelaines. He’s calling the friends of hers that he knows.”
“He doesn’t know them all?” Simon asked.
“No.” Ethan closed his eyes, thinking of her brightness of spirit, how she drew people to her with just a smile. “She likes people—and in the vanilla world, she has more friends than I can count.”
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