Cherise Sinclair - My Liege of Dark Haven

“Oh, they’re planning to get an early start.” Lindsey gave him a quick glance. “For that party in the mountains. Around Bear Flat.”

She hadn’t waited for him. Hadn’t wanted to see him. “I see.”

In the backseat of Simon’s big SUV the next morning, Abby watched the trees whizzing by. They’d started early, crossed the dry Central Valley, and entered the foothills. Already the mountains loomed larger, and pine scented the air.

Hopefully the trip would be valuable. Urgency bit at her since she had only three more weeks to collect data and get her article in before the end of July. Time was speeding away. And she’d had to cut another section where the information contained too much identifying detail.

But her paper was interesting. Wonderful, really. Her fieldwork had shown how tightly knit the community was, and how diverse and open-minded, not just about genders and relationships, but everything. Your kink is not my kink, but it’s okay. The rest of the world could learn something from Dark Haven. She dearly wanted to share the insights she’d gained.

In the passenger seat Rona turned and motioned to the large cooler beside Abby. “Can you get me a diet cola?” She patted her husband’s thigh. “Simon, do you want something?”

“I’m fine, pet.” He tapped the coffee Thermos in the holder. “Polluting caffeine with bubbles is like dumping toxic waste in a river.”

“Oh, Crom, thanks for that disgusting visual.” Rona accepted a can from Abby. “Grab yourself something. We brought a variety.”

“Thank you.” Abby picked out a root beer and sipped the icy-cold liquid. Meeting Simon’s gaze in the rearview mirror, she wrinkled her nose at him. “It so happens that I think carbonation and caffeine go together like cake and chocolate.”

His grin was lethal. With his black hair, black eyes, and darkly tanned skin, he sometimes seemed far too much like Xavier. Although Simon was probably Greek, and Xavier had mentioned being Native American and French, they both were tall, dark, and dominant.

“And what’s a crom, by the way?” Abby asked.

“Oh, sorry. It’s the god of Conan the Barbarian.” Rona grinned. “I raised two boys and convinced them to use it instead of the F-bomb.”

“Clever.” Very clever. Grace would enjoy that one.

Rona wiggled in her seat to face Abby more comfortably. “I’ve been wondering something—and you can tell me that I’m being snoopy but—”

Simon snorted. “You’re being snoopy.”

“It wasn’t you I was speaking to. Sir.”

His gaze flicked to Abby’s in the mirror. “Nosiness is an unfortunate trait of nurses. They assume they need to care for everyone, and they’re accustomed to prying into a patient’s personal business. After decades of asking people if their bowels have moved and what color their urine is, a nurse’s boundaries become skewed.”

Abby sputtered with laughter.

Rona frowned at her husband. “If you weren’t driving, I’d hit you.”

His smile was slow and ominous. “If I weren’t driving, I’d paddle your ass for threatening me.”

They were so well matched. Abby sighed a little. She and Nathan had been fairly in tune intellectually, but Rona and Simon had a constant sexual hum going.

She frowned. With Xavier, the electricity was there, but they sure didn’t know each other. And never would.

Rona turned again, her thick, wavy hair falling over her shoulder. “Back to snoopyitis. Simon said Nathan introduced you to him. Why didn’t he ever bring you to the club?”

Abby’s drink stopped partway to her mouth. That was a good question. He’d never invited her, just tried to do bondage at home. “Maybe he thought I’d get scared off.” She huffed a laugh. “Which might have happened if I’d seen the piercing stuff first.”

Rona winced. “True. I almost ran out of the place the first time I saw someone inserting needles into a breast.” She rubbed her head on Simon’s arm like a kitten. “Are you seeing Xavier now, then?”

“No!” Glancing at the mirror, Abby noticed Simon’s quizzical look. “Xavier isn’t… No.” She gave a helpless shrug. He went to bed with me and decided I’m not his type. Or something. When her eyes prickled with tears, she turned to look out the window. The trees were getting taller. A long way down, a tiny stream sparkled in the sunlight. A hike would be nice right about now. The car felt far too closed in.

“Did you know that Xavier’s wife died a few years ago?” Rona asked.

“Rona,” Simon said in a warning tone.

“From what people say, they were good together, and I doubt he’s ever let her go. Nowadays he sees several women at any given time, and each one is in a separate ‘box.’” Her fingers put quotes around the word. “The club play partner, the slave at home, the social date. It’s really—”

“It’s not appropriate to discuss him behind his back, lass. Would you like to be gagged for the rest of the trip?” Without looking away from the road, Simon reached out and tugged Rona’s hair.

“No, Sir. Absolutely not, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” Rona winked at Abby, then faced the front.

Darn Simon. Just when she was getting some information. She considered smacking the back of his head, met his gaze in the mirror—eyes as black as Xavier’s and with as much power—and hastily abandoned the idea.

So Xavier hadn’t ever been serious about her in the least. He didn’t want anyone that way. Still, she obviously wasn’t even someone he’d play with at the club anymore. And that hurt.

* * *

In a tiny mountain valley, the Mastersons’ home was sided by forest on the left, fields and fences on the right. Parked vehicles formed rows from the house to the massive barn and edged the sides of the dirt road. As Xavier shut off his car, he saw a young couple—burdened with bags, towels, and a pie—cross toward the house. An adolescent dashed past, followed by an older woman at a slower pace.

The late afternoon sun glared down on the massive two-story log cabin. A porch wrapped around the building, tying the various extensions together. From the look of the construction techniques, the cabin had apparently expanded both vertically and horizontally, which was good since Virgil Masterson had mentioned he and his two brothers lived here. With the livestock and offices for their wilderness guide business, staying on-site made sense.

It had been years since he’d been to this area, although he’d met many of the local Doms who visited San Francisco to play. The Hunts and, recently, Virgil Masterson had often been to the club. What kind of Dom had Virgil become?

Simon had said that Summer was still Masterson’s submissive. Xavier looked forward to seeing the little nurse who’d once been a Dark Haven member.

Still stalling—and knowing he was—Xavier leaned against his car. His brain felt exhausted, since he’d second-guessed his decision all the way here. What was the little fluff doing to him?

Abby had fit quite nicely into the club play partner slot—until she’d tempted him into wanting more. Never before had he run into difficulty keeping a woman within the bounds he set for her. Like Destiny. He’d enjoyed the previous long-term receptionist, been pleased with her capabilities and quirkiness, occasionally played with her in Dark Haven, but never had the urge to take it further.

With the slaves who entered his house, the minute one walked in the door, he’d begin evaluating her for her next Master. It was always a mutually agreed-upon, commitmentless arrangement.

He had boundaries for his women. But with Abby, the desire to know her more fully was like smelling coffee and bacon with a locked door barring the way to the kitchen. He’d secured the deadbolt himself.

As he thought, he watched an eagle circle overhead, probably confused by the event. He sympathized.

Ever since he’d met Abby, his memories of Catherine had grown distant—as if the bond tying him to her was eroding. Conversely sometimes it seemed as if she’d leaned over his shoulder to give him advice. He smiled ruefully. She’d been a full-time slave, wanting nothing more than to serve him. For her, he’d assumed the Master role, although it didn’t suit him—but she’d been happiest under a strict regime.

Not that it had kept her from voicing an opinion. After obtaining permission to speak freely, she’d kneel at his feet and scold him if she thought he needed it. She’d have scolded him about the coldness he’d shown to Abby.

He’d hurt the little fluff. As openhearted as Catherine had been, Abby was more vulnerable and definitely less experienced in the lifestyle and in sex.

Pulling away had seemed like a good decision, a chance to reset the boundaries, but he’d made her cry, and seeing her in tears had been like a fist to the belly. He’d wanted to hold her. To take her home and play with her there. To wake up with her in his bed and enjoy her soft mouth. To hear her husky laughter and verbally fence with her in a way he’d never experienced with a submissive.

She was supposed to stay his Dark Haven play partner, but he wanted more. Just this once he’d relax the dividing line between the club and his home. Maybe she’d be interested in exploring the lifestyle outside of the club.

“Xavier.”

He turned.

Smiling widely, Virgil Masterson crossed the gravel from the barn. The sandy-haired cop wore jeans and a T-shirt that barely stretched over his broad shoulders. “It’s damn good to see you.”

“And you.” They shook hands. “You have quite a place here.”

“We like it.” Virgil led the way toward the house. “Simon plans to arrange a wilderness trip later this summer. You should come.”

No need to tell him the lure today was a particular gray-eyed submissive. “It would be good to get away from the city more often.” It was true. He’d never allowed himself to become so city-bound before.

“I’m glad you came early enough to join the Masterson portion of the day, before everyone heads up to Serenity Lodge.” Virgil grinned. “This is the first year we’ve added adult games to the fun.”

“I thought the entire town of Bear Flat came to your barbecue. Won’t you have children here?”

“My brother keeps a fenced-off area back in the forest for black-powder rifle tournaments. The children and vanilla adults will stay here and have a war on the lawn, and the kinksters will move to the more private field of battle. Doms versus submissives.”

Xavier had a vision of winning a war with the prize a soft, sweet submissive. One with foggy gray eyes. “That sounds interesting.”

* * *

The Mastersons were amazing. At a picnic table on the enormous deck, Abby ignored the women chatting around her and stared at the kaleidoscope of activity in the wide backyard. She’d been impressed by her parents’ annual anniversary gathering with a hundred or so guests.

The Mastersons’ Fourth of July party included the entire town of Bear Flat.

The red, white, and blue theme ranged from the cups, plates, and table decorations, to cakes and cookies brought by guests, to bunting and streamers on the railings. Down the slope from the house, a tree-lined creek kept children occupied; other youngsters screamed down a waterslide or played soccer. A wading pool and fenced “corral” were surrounded by comfortable chairs for mothers to watch their toddlers. At the tables scattered over the lawn, older guests played poker, board games, or dominoes while hashing over gossip and politics.

“Abby, are you coming to our party tonight?” Rebecca asked. The very pregnant redhead was married to Logan Hunt, one of the brothers who owned the Serenity wilderness lodge up the mountain. Simon said the dungeon play there was the highlight of the trip.

“That’s the plan, I guess.” But who would she know? She glanced at the women. Just Rona and Lindsey? Pregnant Rebecca sure wouldn’t be doing any scenes.

Across the table sat tiny, dark-haired Kallie, wife of Jake, the other Hunt brother. Summer was married to Virgil Masterson, one of the barbecue hosts, and was as fair as Kallie was dark.

“You’re both going?” Abby asked.

“Not me and Virgil.” Summer turned sideways to rub her bare foot on a sprawled-out, half-grown dog. The spaniel closed its eyes in bliss.

Abby sighed. Her renters had been delighted to babysit the puppies, but she missed them already.

“We’ll oversee the adult war games here and call it a night. Virgil doesn’t like public scenes.” Summer pointed at Kallie, who was Virgil’s cousin. “And he never, ever wants to see Kallie playing with Jake. He said he’d have to wash his eyeballs with bleach.”