“Oh God, no.” A whole new life and reputation ruined.

“Good call, then.” The black gaze flickered to Alex before returning to her. “So we were left in a quandary. To have undermined the lifestyle in such a calculated way and to have instigated such a cruel act—such behavior cannot be permitted. So Cynthia received a choice.”

Mac could feel her hand trembling in his grasp; so could he, for he covered her fingers with his other hand.

“Either arrest and prosecution to the full extent of the law—or she could receive exactly what she had planned for you. Willingly.” His eyes rested on Cynthia for a moment, and Mac shivered at the merciless look in them.

He gave Mac a faint smile. “Cynthia has no idea that you wouldn't enjoy publicly shaming her in court and destroying the social standing that means so much to her. So she signed not only a confession but an agreement to make things right. She and Steel are here tonight so that you, as the injured party, as well as Alex, can bear witness.”

“She could receive exactly what she had planned.” Mac didn't want to think about Steel's actions, but would he have stopped at whipping her? What would have been the inevitable conclusion of that scene?

“No,” Mac whispered. “No rape.” She tried to straighten up against the painful clenching in her stomach. “I don't want that for her. Not for anyone.”

“You know your sub well, don't you?” Drake nodded to Alex, a glint of amusement in his eyes. Lifting Mac's hand, he kissed her fingers. “You have a soft heart, chérie. It shall be as you wish.” His mouth thinned. “However, the whipping is nonnegotiable.”

Chapter Ten

His little sub was warm and soft in Alex's arms, content to be held as Drake walked over to Steel and spoke with him briefly. When Steel crossed the room and grabbed Cynthia by the hair, Mac's eyes went wide with distress.

Alex tightened his arms. “Shhh.”

Steel pulled Cynthia to her feet, and the brunette cringed when she realized who would dispense her punishment. “No!”

“'Fraid so, girl. Let's get this over with.” Steel marched her to where Drake held open the door to the small dungeon. After nodding at Steel, Drake closed the soundproofed door behind the two and walked over to join the other Doms.

“MacKensie,” Alex said quietly, “I didn't think you'd want to watch. But if you do—”

“No.” Mac shuddered and buried her head in his shoulder.

Satisfaction washed through him like a warm wave; she had learned to look to him for comfort. He stroked her fair hair, silky strands over satin skin. “Then there is nothing we need to do now.” But from the continued tenseness in her body, he realized she was listening, fearing to hear the whip or Cynthia. “The room is soundproofed, little cat. You can't hear anything.”

“Oh.”

But she'd listen anyway. Carrying her in his arms, he joined the group around the fireplace and took the empty chair across from Drake. Every sub had reacted in exactly the same way as his. On the couch, Peter held Hope in his arms, and Tess sat on the floor between Zachary's legs with his hands massaging her shoulders. The Doms all had the same grim look in their eyes, even Drake.

The punishment had to be done, but no one was pleased about it. And everyone was listening.

“Little cat,” Alex murmured. “Would you put on some music for me? Maybe Enya? I'm going to serve drinks.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

He held her still so he could smile at her. “I like the way that sounds. You please me, MacKensie.”

A flush bloomed in her pale face in response to his approval.

By the time he'd finished making up everyone's usual drink, the soft sounds of Enya filled the room.

Drake smiled slightly when Alex handed him the scotch he favored. “You're a good host, and this is an excellent diversion. Thank you.” He took a small sip, then put the glass down.

Alex took the last two drinks off the tray and reclaimed his chair. He set the drinks on the small table and held his arms out, pleased when MacKensie burrowed back into his embrace without hesitation. He handed her a gin and tonic and picked up his scotch, then glanced at Drake. “You think this will be the end of it?”

Drake frowned. “As far as copycats, yes. I gave Steel a camera for before-and-after photos. Although I'll black out her face, Cynthia's body is quite recognizable, and the story of what she did is making the rounds. When the pictures from tonight are posted over the bar, I doubt anyone will consider duplicating what she did.”

The talk turned general, and the Doms encouraged the subs to join in to keep their minds off the scene being played out in the dungeon.

Zachary told how his new ram had butted him off his feet; Tess teased the rancher about the dungeon he'd built in the barn. Hope had several troublesome students creating chaos in her classroom. Peter suffered from a backlogged caseload that kept him working late each night.

“You know, we never asked how you met,” Hope said, smiling at Mac.

MacKensie stirred in Alex's arms. “We exchanged houses. Butler needed someone to care for him while Alex attended some conference close to my hometown.” She frowned and looked up at him. “After seeing your house, I couldn't believe you wanted to use my little place.”

“I've found staying in a real house—even little ones—more comfortable than any motel room. And it's worth the drive if I can get out of the city and enjoy a smaller town.”

“Oh.” MacKensie returned her attention to Hope. “Anyway, he missed his flight and returned to the house.”

And found her in a wonderful position. Alex grinned as red streaked across MacKensie's face. She obviously hadn't forgotten either. “She was nice enough to let me stay in my own home.”

He heard the little sigh of relief that he hadn't gone into detail.

With a little click, the music came to an end. Mac turned toward the dungeon. “Why isn't he done?”

“Steel was furious he'd been used in such a way,” Drake said. “And he's a master with the single tail. He won't break skin, but she will be marked for quite some time.”

“You must love her a lot to punish her like this,” Mac said.

Alex frowned at the peculiar statement and realized there was something odd in her voice. Wistfulness? Envy?

His glance at the others silenced them. “What other punishment could we have used, little cat?” Alex asked softly.

Her hand resting on his chest curled into a small fist. “If you didn't like her, you'd put her out of sight. Send her where you didn't have to look at her.”

Such a matter-of-fact statement. A reality to MacKensie. Alex frowned as dawning comprehension created a knot in his stomach. “So Cynthia knows we love her, since we're whipping her raw?”

Her cheek rubbed against his shirt as if she were the little cat he called her. Even as she snuggled, a frown formed between her brows. “I don't know about whipping. It seems awfully harsh.”

“I guess we could have flogged her.” He paused. No response. “Or caned her.” Paused. “Or spanked her.”

MacKensie's breathing increased, and the tiny muscles in her lips quivered for a second.

“Yes, maybe a hard spanking. Would she know what it meant, though?” He threw that out blindly and got more than he'd anticipated.

“Only girls who are loved get spanked. She'd know that.” Again, a reasonable tone. Spanking and love went together in MacKensie's world, a thought pattern probably established so young, she didn't even realize it. He'd dig further. But for now she needed to know she was valued as much—more—than Cynthia. He could give her that. With a little help.

He glanced at Peter and Zachary, saw the understanding in their eyes, and received nods. Experienced Doms could no more ignore a need like this than a doctor could ignore a bleeding wound.

The dungeon door opened, and Steel walked out, his hand wrapped around Cynthia's upper arm, giving her support enough to walk, but from the repugnance in his face, he didn't want to get closer. Steel's mouth was tight; he obviously hadn't enjoyed the punishment, but he'd done a masterful job.

Red welts covered Cynthia's body, front and back, shoulders to calves, only the areas around her kidneys and spine left unmarked. Her tear-streaked makeup splotched her face like camo paint, and her eyes were glassy with pain.

Pity rose in Alex until he remembered that she'd tried to do the same to Mac for no other reason than spite.

When the two approached, Drake rose. His black eyes displayed no pity at all as they traveled over Cynthia's body. “Kneel and apologize to Master Steel, then to Master Alex's sub.” His words were deliberately chosen, and Cynthia flinched at MacKensie's designation as Alex's submissive.

Cynthia knelt awkwardly, all her grace gone. “I'm sorry, Master Steel. Please forgive me.” The monotone left little to be read.

“Forgiven,” Steel said, his taut face adding without words that he wouldn't forget.

Cynthia turned slightly and looked at MacKensie. “Please forgive me,” she repeated, her face blank and cold.

MacKensie's eyes brimmed with tears. “Of course,” she whispered.

Alex's mouth thinned. His little sub's sympathy could be heard, felt, and seen. Cynthia's attitude, however…

“Cynthia, you speak the words of repentance but feel no remorse, only unhappiness that you were caught,” Drake said and lifted Cynthia to her feet. “You are not welcome in my club. Do not return.”

The woman's soft gasp of shock showed she had expected everything would go back to normal.