Shayla Black - Theirs to Cherish

“No one suspected Holden? After all, if your father died, you stood to inherit a lot of money.”

She shook her head. “He parked in front of an elderly couple’s house. They spied on the teen ‘vagrant’ slouched in his beat-up Mustang for twenty minutes because he was blasting Usher in their very white upper-crust neighborhood. They were sure they’d be horrifically murdered any second.”

Logan’s mouth flattened in a grim line. “Then?”

“Within an hour, we traded vehicles with a drunk guy in a bar’s parking lot, Holden’s car for his old truck. The guy was wasted enough to say yes. After that, we headed from Illinois to Indiana.”

Callie hadn’t told any of this to a single soul—ever. Hell, she’d barely let herself think about it in years. Just saying the words hurt like peeling off the layers of her skin one at a time until she was a bleeding, oozing mass. The worst part was, she could spill her guts, and Logan might not believe her. He could call the police because it was the right thing to do. They would take her to jail. And who knew what would happen then . . . except that it wouldn’t be good.

“Then a few days later, your boyfriend ratted you out?” he asked.

“Yeah. I was still bleeding, my hip infected. Holden heard about the reward for turning me in and he called.” And damn if she wasn’t still bitter about that. “When I stepped out of the shower for my shampoo and overheard him on the phone, I threw on my clothes, took the truck, and split.”

“Keep going,” Logan demanded.

“From there, I dashed to the next town over and paid cash for a little sedan. I had about thirty grand with me, money I’d taken from my father over a few months so Holden and I could start a new life. My dad never missed it.

“Since it was winter, I bolted south. Spent some time in Kentucky. When people there got suspicious, I adopted another name, colored my hair, and slipped over the border into Tennessee. Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma . . . Any place I could find a rent-by-the week motel and a transient job, that’s where I went, at least until I thought someone might be onto me. Then I’d be gone again.”

“How did you find Thorpe?”

“I waited on some lifestylers while working at a twenty-four-hour diner shortly after I got to Dallas. Some were still in their fet garb at three a.m. when they walked in. I was curious, so I asked questions. They gave me answers. One of the unattached Doms invited me to go to Dominion with him. Out of curiosity, I said yes. He turned out to be a troll, and it didn’t take Thorpe long to throw him out, but I begged to stay. I’d finally found the perfect place to hide. A secretive community where no one expects to know your real name and no one is going to out you. I could dress different, change my hair, wear a lot of makeup, and no one would raise a brow. Not a soul who knew me as a child would ever admit to knowing what a fet club was, much less think to look for me there. Thorpe asked a lot of questions at first. I made up a lot of lies. After a while, as long as I did my job and promised to give him a heads-up if I planned to skip out so he could hire someone else, he left it alone.” She sighed, struggling to hold it all in. “Then came Sean.”

“Your Dom?”

The sting of tears lashed Callie. She blinked to hold them back. “Supposedly, yes. I’ve dodged assassins and bounty hunters before and always managed to get away. This one is a different breed. He’s determined enough to find me again. That’s why I need your help. The man who’s supposed to protect and care for me, who’s pleaded with me to trust him?” She shook her head. “He’s trying to kill me.”

Three days earlier

CALLIE trembled as she lay back on the padded table and Sean Kirkpatrick’s strong fingers wrapped around her cuffed wrist, guiding it back to the bindings above her head.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she murmured.

He paused, then drew in a breath as if he sought patience. “Breathe, lovely.”

That gentle, deep brogue of his native Scotland brought her peace. His voice both aroused and soothed her, and she tried to let those feelings wash through her.

“Can you do that for me?” he asked.

His fingers uncurled from her wrist, and he grazed the inside of her outstretched arm with his knuckles. As always, his touch was full of quiet strength. He made her ache. She shivered again, this time for an entirely different reason.

“I’ll try.”

Sean shook his head, his deep blue eyes seeming to see everything she tried to hide inside. That penetrating stare scared the hell out of her. What did he see when he looked at her? How much about the real her had he pieced together?

The thought made her panic. No one could know her secret. No one. She’d kept it from everyone, even Thorpe, during her four years at Dominion. She’d finally found a place where she felt safe, comfortable. Of course she’d have to give it up someday, probably soon. She always did. But please, not yet.

Deep breath. Don’t panic. Sean wants your submission, not your secrets.

“You’ll need to do better than try. You’ve been ‘trying’ for over six months,” he reminded her gently. “Do you think I’d truly hurt you?”

No. Sean didn’t seem to have a violent bone in his body. He wasn’t a sadist. He never gripped her harshly. He never even raised his voice. She’d jokingly thought of him as the sub whisperer because he pushed her boundaries with a gentleness she found both irresistible and insidious. Certainly, he’d dragged far more out of her than any other man had. Tirelessly, he’d worked to earn her trust. Callie felt terrible that she could never give it, not when doing so could be fatal.

Guilt battered her. She should stop wasting his time.

“I know you wouldn’t,” she assured, blinking up at him, willing him to understand.

“Of course not.” He pressed his chest over hers, leaning closer to delve into her eyes.

Callie couldn’t resist lowering her lids, shutting out the rest of the world. Even knowing she shouldn’t, she sank into the soft reassurance of his kiss. Each brush of his lips over hers soothed and aroused. Every time he touched her, her heart raced. Her skin grew tight. Her nipples hardened. Her pussy moistened and swelled. Her heart ached. Sean Kirkpatrick would be so easy to love.

As his fingers filtered into her hair, cradling her scalp, she exhaled and melted into his kiss—just for a sweet moment. It was the only one she could afford.

A fierce yearning filled her. She longed for him to peel off his clothes, kiss her with that determination she often saw stamped into his eyes, and take her with the single-minded fervor she knew he was capable of. But in the months since he’d collared her, he’d done nothing more than stroke her body, tease her, and grant her orgasms when he thought she’d earned them. She hadn’t let him fully restrain her. And he hadn’t yet taken her to bed.

Not knowing the feel of him deep inside her, of waiting and wanting until her body throbbed relentlessly, was making her buckets full of crazy.

After another skillful brush of his lips, Sean ended the kiss and lifted his head, breathing hard. She clung, not ready to let him go. How had he gotten under her skin so quickly? His tenderness filled her veins like a drug. The way he had addicted Callie terrified her.

“I want you. Sean, please . . .” She damn near wept.

With a broad hand, he swept the stray hair from her face. Regret softened his blue eyes before he ever said a word. “If you’re not ready to trust me as your Dom, do you think you’re ready for me as a lover? I want you completely open to me before we take that step. All you have to do is trust me, lovely.”

Callie slammed her eyes shut. This was so fucking pointless. She wanted to trust Sean, yearned to give him everything—devotion, honesty, faith. Her past ensured that she’d never give any of those to anyone. But he had feelings for her. About that, she had no doubt. They’d grown just as hers had, unexpectedly, over time, a fledgling limb morphing into a sturdy vine that eventually created a bud just waiting to blossom . . . or die.

She knew which. They could never have more than this faltering Dom/sub relationship, destined to perish in a premature winter.

She should never have accepted his collar, not when she should be trying to keep her distance from everyone. The responsible choice now would be to call her safe word, walk out, quit him. Release them both from this hell. Never look back.

For the first time in nearly a decade, Callie worried that she might not have the strength to say good-bye.

What was wrong with her tonight? She was too emotional. She needed to pull up her big-girl panties and snap on her bratty attitude, pretend that nothing mattered. It was how she’d coped for years. But she couldn’t seem to manage that with Sean.

“You’re up in your head, instead of here with me,” he gently rebuked her.

Another dose of guilt blistered her. “Sorry, Sir.”

Sean sighed heavily, stood straight, then held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”

Callie winced. If he intended to stop the scene, that could only mean he wanted to talk. These sessions where he tried to dig through her psyche became more painful than the sexless nights she spent in unfulfilled longing under his sensual torture.

Swallowing down her frustration, she dredged up her courage, then put her hand in his.

Holding her in a steady grip, Sean led her to the far side of Dominion’s dungeon, to a bench in a shadowed corner. As soon as she could see the rest of the room, Callie felt eyes on her, searing her skin. With a nonchalant glance, she looked at the others sceneing around them, but they seemed lost in their own world of pleasure, pain, groans, sweat, and need. A lingering sweep of the room revealed another sight that had the power to drop her to her knees. Thorpe in the shadows. Staring. At her with Sean. His expression wasn’t one of disapproval exactly . . . but he wasn’t pleased.