Galen’s razor-sharp gaze met hers. One eyebrow went up, and his hand moved from her back to her nape. “Whatever you’re thinking,” he said, “think again.”

She scowled. “Only Master Z can read minds. How did you know I wanted to—”

His grin totally lifted her heart. God, he didn’t do that enough. He bent and whispered in her ear, “It’s a Dom secret.”

“Oh fine.” Maybe she’d decorate his canes and paddles too. Draw something girlie…pretty pink flowers.

Yeah.

At the bar, Vance lifted her onto a bar stool and stood at her right. Galen took her left.

She frowned. Did they always set themselves up that way? Were they protecting her or restraining her? Why did it make her feel so squishy inside?

Cullen spotted them and made his way down the bar, filling drink orders as he came. He paused to swat Andrea’s butt and nuzzle her cheek on the way. Sally smiled, pleased at how Andrea’s color heightened at his overt affection. Even though they’d been together for over a year, they still acted like new lovers.

“It’s good to see you, love,” Cullen said to Sally. He put his oversize hand under her chin, studying her face. “You look—”

She felt Vance put his arm around her waist.

Cullen’s hand dropped, and he straightened. He looked at the Fed. “Sorry, gents. I forgot she wasn’t still a trainee.”

Sally froze. She really wasn’t, was she? She remembered the thrill when the Masters had told her she’d be a trainee. How special it had been to belong somewhere and to have the Masters watching over her. The loss…hurt…like something had ripped away inside her.

Galen nodded; his face an unreadable mask. He set a hand on her shoulder, squeezed, and some warmth trickled back in.

“No problem,” Vance said easily to Cullen. His arm stayed around her, holding her even tighter against his side as if to tell her where she belonged. “What time did Z want us on duty?”

Cullen checked a paper on the low counter behind the bar and pulled two gold-trimmed black leather vests from the shelves. “Looks like you’re on now. Kouros gets the front of the room; you’re in the back.”

“Got it,” Vance said.

Sally gave herself a mental shake and turned her mind to lighter—shallower—thoughts.

Like watching her Doms. How would they look in the dungeon monitor vests?

Vance dragged on the vest over his tight T-shirt. Very nice. Somehow his shoulders looked even broader, and the curve of his biceps stretching the shirtsleeves was more obvious.

Yeah, shallow thoughts weren’t a problem at all—because she was having trouble not jumping his bones. With incredible control, she managed to keep her hands in her lap.

Galen turned to Sally. Somehow the vest over his dress shirt had a different effect, yet was equally amazing. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, displaying just a hint of the steely, lean musculature. God, she just wanted to unbutton his shirt and lick her way down.

“We’re only doing monitor duty for an hour,” he said. “After that, we’ll have time to play. Will you be all right by yourself?”

She sniffed. “Of course.”

“Good.” Galen touched his finger to the tip of her nose. “Remember you’re no longer a free agent, pet. Stay here at the bar or sit with the other submissives.”

As he strolled away, her mouth formed sarcastic words even though his statement made her feel all happy inside. I’m not a free agent.

Vance tilted her chin up and took a blatantly possessive kiss before smiling into her eyes. “Be a good girl now.”

He headed off to the back before she finished sighing. As dungeon monitors, the two men would stroll through the room, checking each scene for safety, making sure the submissives were being treated well. Master Z was a great believer in the safe and sane practices, especially for the newer players. More experienced, hard-core players would practice RACK, and although “Risk Aware Consensual Kink” didn’t exactly mean safe or sane, everyone agreed on the consensual part.

“Want a drink, Sally?” Master Cullen asked.

She looked up, up, up at the craggy-faced bartender. He and Ben sure made a girl feel height challenged. “How about a diet…” No, on second thought, any drink that sent her bladder into overtime was a bad idea. She still had trouble asking for stuff, and unlike Vance, Galen would probably make her wait until she ended up with her legs so tight together that she wouldn’t be able to walk. “I’ll grab some water from the munchie tables.”

“You were told to stay—”

“Hey, Cullen, need a first-aid kit,” a Domme called from the end of the bar.

“Coming,” Cullen grabbed a white kit from under the bar and headed toward the Domme.

Galen had said to stay put. Sally sat for a second…considering. Doubtful that they’d notice if she visited the food tables.

The munchie table in the front corner was stocked with water, soft drinks, and finger foods. Master Z said having food available was not only healthy but also encouraged the community spirit of the dungeon, which was why the corner also had tables and chairs. The scenes were far enough away that people could talk without disturbing anyone.

Sally picked up a bottled water, cast her gaze over the table spread, and yo baby, there were quiche bites. God, she loved those. Just a few though, girl. Eat or drink too much and she’d totally regret it if the guys went for a heavy scene.

She was on her second bite when a couple of the younger Doms approached—although she probably shouldn’t call them younger. They were her age, after all. But after being with the Feds, these two seemed…unfinished.

“Hey, Sally. Long time no see.” Carter was tall and lanky. His glasses flashed in the light from the wall sconces.

“Hi, Carter.”

Like Vance, Donald was football-player-sized. He moved a step too close, looked down at her, and the derisive twist of his lips made her uncomfortable. “Guess you wanted time off after your faking-it performances. Did you come back to give everyone another shot at getting you off?”

She straightened, anger flaming through her veins. Yes, she’d fooled him. Now she had to wonder why she’d ever agreed to play with him at all. “No, there won’t be another shot.”

His sneer was ugly, and he’d obviously taken her words as an insult.

Smart boy.

“Bet I can get Cullen to let me scene with you, trainee.”

“I’m not—”

“This submissive is not a trainee. She’s mine.” A hand curled around her arm, pulling her away from the two men, and Sally looked up to see Vance. His blue eyes had turned the color of gunmetal—hard and cold and deadly.

The startled look on Donald’s face was—Sally bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snickering—wonderful. “Uh. Sorry. We didn’t know.”

“Now you do.”

Sally’s moment of pleasure lasted only a few seconds until Vance dragged her away from the quiche bites. “Wait. I wanted—”

“Disobedient submissives don’t get their wants met.” He stopped beside the bar and saw that Dan had replaced Master Cullen as the bartender.

Dan smiled at Sally, his eyebrows lifting at Vance’s grip on her arm. “Got yourself in trouble, sweetheart?”

“I—”

“She did,” Vance said, interrupting her with a stern look.

He hadn’t given her permission to speak. Got it. Maybe she’d let him get away with the restriction, considering he’d just rescued her from asshole Donald.

Vance asked Dan, “Z still have collars in the spares basket.”

“A collar? For Sally?” Master Dan’s brows drew together as if he didn’t approve. After a pause, he moved down the bar and pulled a laundry-sized basket from the bottom shelf. “Here you go.” He set it on the bar.

Still holding Sally as if she’d run away, Vance poked through the items before pulling out a dark red collar. “This should work.” He fastened it around her neck.

And as he fastened the buckle, as she felt the encompassing touch of the leather, her heart started to hammer. A few Doms had collared her as part of their idea of a scene, but she’d never felt like this. Like the collar was pulling her toward him, like his intense eyes were seeing past the leather and past her skin, like his hands were tying a leash on her soul. She could feel the tug of the attachment deep inside her. “Vance,” she whispered, unable to look away from his hard face, his high, wide cheekbones, the jut of his strong chin.

He cupped her chin. “Look at you,” he said softly, and the feeling of being possessed engulfed her.

As he straightened, he released her. “I like the way you look in a collar, sweetie. I think we’ll put one on you every time we’re here—and you can consider yourself collared by Galen and me until we take it off.”

Words like that shouldn’t make her heart feel as if it were break dancing inside her chest.

His lips turned up. “Silence from our little subbie? Do you understand, Sally?”

She swallowed. “I understand.” Her voice came out so hoarse that he ran his finger around the inside of the collar again, checking to be sure it wasn’t too tight. But it wasn’t the collar that was choking her. It was the way her heart was pushing at her throat, as if it wanted out. Wanted to give itself away.

When had he become so…so important to her? So dear. God, she was such an idiot. He’d collared her for an evening; she wanted more.

“Sally, what’s wrong?” He touched her cheek as his eyebrows pulled together.

No, don’t be a fool. Players, the both of them. But they’d never stayed with a submissive this long. So…what did that mean? “I— Nothing.” She forced her mouth to curve into a smile. “Thanks for keeping the other Doms away.”