Cherise Sinclair - This is who I am

Even more satisfying was seeing the Dom’s scene crash and burn. Such a pity, Master Sam. The asshole. Although Davies could wield a whip well, he always stopped too soon. Didn’t break the submissives, didn’t force them to grovel. And afterward, he treated the sluts like pampered babies.

Disgusting. Aaron’s jaw clenched. Stupid slaves would kneel and beg Davies for a flogging. Some of them were ones who’d turned Aaron down when he’d invited them to play. I’m far more of a Master than he’ll ever be. I’ve fucked more women, hurt more women.

Killed more women.

He smoothed his hair down as satisfaction filled him. Yes, he’d had a fine time recently. He’d been smart to continue using prostitutes. They were sleazy, but…nicely simple. Flash some money, pick one up, deal with her how he pleased. Leave the body in a ditch and take his money back. Yes, he had to be cautious about leaving evidence, but at least he had no Harvest Association Overseer to placate over damaged—or dead—merchandise.

And for a pleasant treat between kills, he used the Shadowlands.

As he neared the bar, he noticed the side door was ajar. Z must have opened the Capture Gardens. Now that promised to be fun. Perhaps a bit risky, since Z and the Masters kept a close eye on the proceedings. But there were ways around that.

As he approached the unattached submissives, he surveyed the offerings. Two of them he’d played with before. No. Not in a mood to exert himself unduly, he also rejected the most athletic-looking women. He’d save his energy for roughing up his prey. And fucking her. Up the ass would suit his mood tonight.

A tattooed one caught his eye. Nice. But then he saw the trainee cuffs on her wrists. Not a good choice. Z kept a close eye on the trainees. All the Masters did.

Ah, perhaps that brunette. She couldn’t be more than midtwenties. He preferred older slaves, but for what he had in mind in the Gardens, an inexperienced submissive would be best. He stalked into the sitting area, gave them all an impersonal, cold stare, and watched them react to his dominance. “I’m looking for some sport in the Capture Gardens,” he said.

Three of the submissives, including his choice, showed interest. He held his hand out to her. “Would you care to play the game?”

She jumped to her feet. “Sure.”

Noticing a slut he’d used before shaking her head no toward the girl, he smoothly moved the girl away. “Do you have a safe word?”

“I use red.” The girl tried to look confident.

He almost laughed. “Red will be fine.” Wasn’t it a shame she wouldn’t be able to yell with his hand over her mouth? And he could tell that when he broke the insecure sub down and scared her enough, she wouldn’t return to the Shadowlands. Wouldn’t tell a soul.

Sam scowled as he watched Linda drive down his farm lane toward the front gate. Goddamned stubborn woman. She sure as hell hadn’t slept long enough but still dragged herself out of bed to sing in a church service. Wouldn’t even wait for him to get the gate for her.

His mood lightened as he remembered how she’d snarled at him. Her grumpy morning face was damn cute.

And he’d see her later. Z had called already this morning. He’d arranged a late-afternoon meeting today with her, the Feds, and the other Masters. Just what she needed. More stress in her life. At least, she’d agreed to let him pick her up at her home after work and drive her to the Shadowlands for the meeting.

With a snap of his fingers for Conn, he headed down the drive. Since the construction crew took Sundays off, he’d lock the gate before heading to the orchards.

Halfway down the lane, Conn let out an “incoming” bark as a car turned in. The vehicle was an ancient two-door with dings and dents all over the bumper. One headlight gone. Blonde at the wheel. Hell. Even before he saw her face, he knew, and his gut felt as if he’d swallowed glass.

Without thinking—just to keep her from his house—he stepped into the center of the drive, forcing her to stop if she didn’t want to run him over. Muscles tense, he prepared to jump out of the way if she was too drugged out to notice an obstacle.

She stopped.

His fury grew, and he yanked open her door. Conn growled.

She gave him a beseeching look. “Sam. Darling. I know you didn’t want—”

“Get the hell off my land.” She wasn’t high but strung out instead. Face sweaty. Hands shaking. His jaw tightened. No matter how often he’d seen her like this, it still grated. No one—ex-wife or not—should do that to herself.

He smothered the maddening need to fix her. Year after year, he’d tried that. Programs, clinics, therapy, detoxing wards. The minute she was released, she’d return to shooting poison into her veins.

“I need a little help, darling. To buy food.”

Right. Any cash would go straight into a smack buy. “Been through this, Nancy. No money. You aren’t gone when I reach the house, I call the cops.”

“You fucking bastard.” Her mask of niceness slipped, and mean replaced it. “I put up with you for years, gave you a child. You can’t even spare me a few bucks?”

“You get money from the trustee every month. You get no more.” Their divorce had been ugly, but the evidence of her drug use and toxic behavior had disgusted the judge. She hadn’t been awarded alimony. Nonetheless, she was Nicole’s mother. He’d hired a trustee to pay for a room and groceries, and to deal with her. Because he couldn’t.

Seeing her—each and every time—left him frozen inside. It would take a few days before he even wanted to see people again.

“Asshole,” she hissed like the viper she’d turned out to be. “I loved you.”

“Only when you wanted something from me.” His mouth twisted at the foul taste.

“I love you, Sam. Darling, I owe Stevie a thousand dollars. Can you give it to me?”

“I love you, Sam. Oh, darling, I broke my laptop. Will you buy me a new one?”

Broken, hell. She’d hocked that laptop for drug money. Although he’d canceled her credit cards and stopped handing her cash, he’d been slow to realize she was selling things off. She’d even pawned some of Nicole’s toys. “You wouldn’t know love if it bit you in the ass.” As ice wrapped around him, he welcomed the way it blunted his rage. His memories.

“Fine. I’ll go to Nicole.”

“You bother Nicole, I cut off your monthly money, and you get nothing. Get out of here.” He slammed her door shut and stepped away.

Two minutes later, as her car squealed down the road, he locked the gate and flipped on the security alarm. After the second time she’d broken into the house, he’d shelled out for the fancy-ass system.

For a minute, many minutes, he stood, unable to move. Her car was no longer in sight, but her presence lingered like a rotting carcass, casting a stench over the farm.

Leaning on the gate, he felt as hollowed out as if she’d gutted him. His energy, his emotions were drained. Turning, he looked up toward the farm buildings. The sky showed clouds rolling in. The temperature was probably dropping, although he was already cold to the bone.

Got chores to do. He couldn’t seem to move.

With a whine, Conn pawed at Sam’s boot.

Sam shook his head, knowing he should reassure the dog. Couldn’t. Moving slowly, he started the long walk up the drive.

* * *

As the wintery sunlight came through the windshield of Sam’s truck, he drove toward the Shadowlands. Linda sat quietly in the passenger seat.

Hours after Nancy’s visit, he still felt…off. Cold, inside and out. Like parts of him had been ripped away, leaving a husk behind.

After a few attempts to talk that had fallen flat, Linda had remained silent. He glanced over at her.

She was watching him. “Are you okay, Sam?”

Why the hell did she ask him that? “Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you.” Her brows drew together. “Is it because of last night? Because our scene went from wonderful to horrible?”

His gut twisted. He was a Dom. If anything went wrong in a scene, it was his fault. For a second, he thought about explaining, but the blackness roiling through his head eroded the words into dust. “I’m fine.”

Her huff wasn’t a happy one. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. Can’t you talk to me?”

Talk? From a distance, the windows of Z’s manor glinted. “Nothing to say.”

Her fingers pleated the bottom of her shirt. “You let me cry, get me to dump all over you, but won’t share what’s bothering you.” She gave him an unhappy look. “Contrary to popular belief, a Dom isn’t a bulletproof superman. I want to help when you feel bad, Sam.”

“No need.”

She pulled back as if he’d slapped her.

He should apologize. Take her hand. But ropes had been wrapped around his soul. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he turned into the drive to the Shadowlands. Beneath the tall palms that lined the road, the flower beds seemed garishly bright in the gray light.

* * *

As Linda walked beside Sam through the side gate in the privacy fence, she tried to ignore the ache in her chest.

Although he was hurting, apparently she wasn’t someone he felt he could lean on or share with.

Last night, she’d been so happy to see him. Her heart had actually lifted, bounced, danced. And he’d comforted her so sweetly after that horrible scene.

Today he was terrifyingly distant. The lines bracketing his mouth were deeper, his eyes a colder blue. He was suffering, and she wanted to help. A shiver ran through her as her stupid insecurities flared up. He didn’t need her. Didn’t need anything from her.