A small fire in the massive stone fireplace heated the room against the mountain chill. Amber-colored glass in wall lanterns spilled flickering light and left some areas in shadow.

A touch of anxiety ran up her spine. This was very different from the big Dark Haven dungeon. Smaller. Fewer people. More…personal or something.

“Amazing how a few chains can change the ambience, isn’t it?” Rona came down the stairs and stopped beside her.

Near the door, Simon spotted his wife and strolled over. In an apparent concession to the rustic surrounding, he’d worn a white shirt and tailored slacks, without a suit coat. A gleam lit his eyes at the sight of the bows running down the sides of Rona’s dress. “That’s very nice, lass,” he said, tugging one open.

She slapped at his hands. “I should have tied them in knots.”

“Even better. I haven’t played with knives in a while.” He caught and kissed Rona’s hand, holding her gaze in a way that made Abby sigh.

Would she ever have anyone who looked at her like that? Wistfully she turned away and fidgeted with her clothes. Her new dark-red bustier had black lacing she’d half undone to display a good amount of cleavage. But Rebecca’s ankle-length skirt perfected the outfit completely. Somehow the black fabric had been sliced to shredded paper widths from hip to ankle. With such tantalizing glimpses of private areas, a man wouldn’t even notice the width of the wearer’s hips.

Simon turned to her. “You look enchanting. I know some Doms who would be delighted to meet you. Or are you waiting for Xavier?”

“I’m not sure.” Xavier hadn’t mentioned tonight. Obviously she should have asked. “I’ll wander for a while and get the lay of the land.”

Simon ran a hand down her arm. “All right. But Abby, I consider you under my protection. You’re a big girl, so you may negotiate on your own behalf, but use my name if anyone gives you trouble. And I’m here if you want me to monitor a scene. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The lodge’s safe word is the usual, red.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good enough.”

She moved toward the center of the room, realizing she wasn’t wearing Xavier’s collar. Her legs felt shaky as if someone had taken away much-needed crutches.

As more people arrived, the music shifted to Whip Culture, and the Hunt brothers seemed to be everywhere. Jake was helping a Dom with a suspension setup. Nearby, Logan was introducing a Dark Haven submissive to a local Domme. Slowly the equipment began to get used, and Abby wandered from one scene to another. A couple of Doms approached her, but she fended them off with “Later.”

After an hour her spirits were sinking, and she dropped down on the leather couch to stare at the fire. Xavier hadn’t arrived. For all she knew, he’d gone back to San Francisco.

Should I play without him? He’d been clear they weren’t exclusive or anything. Maybe she should try a scene with someone else, just to see what it was like. The thought wasn’t very palatable, though.

“Abby?” A man’s voice. Familiar. Shocked.

Her head came up. “Nathan. What are you doing here?”

His gaze ran over her clothing, and his blue eyes widened. “I could ask you the same.” Dressed in a leather jacket and black leather pants, he took a seat beside her.

Her brain felt as if it had started to spin. “Simon invited me. Did your summer term get cut short? Are you back for good?”

“No, I’m here for only a couple of days.” He looked away. “You know how I like mountains. Since the Hunts plan to turn this into a family lodge, they’ll have fewer parties, and I wanted to get this one in.”

The pleasure—and discomfort—at seeing him seemed to be on a winding drive through her emotions.

Taking her hand, he smiled. “Our last conversation must have gotten through to you. I can’t believe you went so far as to join a BDSM club to learn to meet my needs.”

True, she’d planned that at one time, but… “Well—”

“Maybe our relationship wasn’t as hopeless as I thought.” He rose. “I want to do a scene with you.”

He tugged her toward the back. Backing her up to a Saint Andrew’s cross, he pulled his favorite metal handcuffs from his jacket pocket.

I hate handcuffs. With difficulty, she smothered the urge to refuse. She had experience now. Had been restrained before. And she’d just been wondering how she’d really felt about him—and about Xavier. Maybe she owed it to them both to try again. After all, she’d also been unconvinced about Xavier at first.

But wasn’t Nathan supposed to ask her what she’d permit in a scene?

A handcuff snicked on her left wrist, and he clipped it to the upper arm of the X-shaped frame. He pulled out another set of handcuffs and did her right wrist.

Her discomfort increased. With Xavier she’d often—always—felt anxious about what he had planned, but never unsafe. Why was this different? She’d known Nathan far longer.

He stared down his nose at her. “Okay, slut.” His voice was rougher. Meaner. “You’re going to take what I give you, and I don’t want any back talk from you. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded, but being called names made her more uncomfortable than if someone had poured ants down her clothes. Too many memories lingered of her father’s screaming.

He unlaced her bustier and tossed it on the floor. His hands were cruel, squeezing and pinching her nipples. “Look at me, bitch.” He pinched her hard enough to make her eyes water.

“Nathan,” she whispered. “This—”

“Fucking bitch.” He slapped her breast. As the sting tore through her, she tried to pull away. The cuffs dug into her wrists, hurting her arms. Her breast hurt. This was pain with no arousal.

“Nathan, no.”

“You don’t talk without permission.” When his voice rose, fear skittered up her spine with tiny claws. He grabbed her hair so hard the skin around her eyes felt tight, and with the other hand touched her between her legs. He pushed a finger roughly inside. “Slut, you’re not even wet.”

When he raised his hand again, she couldn’t stand it. “No. I don’t want this. Let me down.”

“Fat fucking chance. I’ve wanted you on one of these since—”

“Red,” she said firmly. “The safe word is red, and I’m using it.”

To her disbelief he put his hand over her mouth. “No, you can’t ruin it again. Time after time you—”

Sliding toward a morass of terror, she bit him. Hard.

As he jerked away, she yelled, “Red.” Took a breath. “Red, red, red.”

“You cunt.” His face darkened to an ugly color. “If you—”

“What’s the problem here?” Xavier’s deep, controlled voice wrapped around her like a blanket of safety.

As he stopped beside Nathan, she halted the painful tearing at the cuffs. Her heart started to slow.

Simon approached from the right, Logan from the left, but Xavier took up the entire room. The world.

“Xavier.” Nathan stepped back hastily. “It’s not what it seems. This is my girlfriend.”

The anger in Xavier’s eyes turned cold. Then his expression went unreadable. “I hadn’t realized you were involved.”

“For months. She still needs some work getting into the right headspace, keeps wanting to back out, you know?”

The assessing look swept over her. “I hadn’t noticed her trying to back out at the club.”

Nathan stared. “She did scenes at Dark Haven? With other Doms?”

“Yes.” Xavier met her gaze finally. Although the chill in his eyes dug into her skin, his voice stayed level. “Abigail, you used the safe word. That means the scene is over. Is that what you intended?”

Absolutely. “Yes, my liege.”

Even as Nathan made a protesting sound, Simon stepped around him and unlocked the handcuffs. Didn’t it figure that the security expert kept master keys in his pocket? She stared at his dark head, unable to look at Nathan…or Xavier.

When she was free, her knees threatened to buckle. Simon gripped her arm, steadying her. “Thank you,” she whispered and stepped away, rubbing her wrists. She’d have nasty bruises in the morning.

As she tried to figure out what to say, a submissive in a thong and stiletto heels dropped to her knees. “Master Nathan.” The round-cheeked brunette from Dark Haven looked like a college student. “I’m sorry I’m late. Your slut is here to serve you in any way you want. My mouth, my ass, my pussy are yours, sir.”

Abby stared. Up until the night before he left, she and Nathan had been going together. Exclusive. Hadn’t they?

But the young woman knelt with her face only an inch from Nathan’s crotch…and the guilty flush flooding Nathan’s face was unmistakable.

A knife sliced into Abby’s chest, pushing deep. Hurting. He’d lied to her. He’d cheated on her. As the pieces of her trust dropped to the ground, she wanted to scream at him.

No. Don’t fight. No yelling. She took a breath. Let it out. Took another. Refused to look at Xavier. “Good-bye, Nathan.” She turned away from him and picked up her bustier.

“That’s it? You blow the scene and that’s it?” Nathan reached for her.

She stepped around him.

“Fine. And good riddance, slut,” Nathan said, and she heard the cold rage.

That was what had attracted her—that he’d never turn into a monster like her father. She’d been a fool.

His voice rose, not a shout, but loud enough to be heard through the room. “Now that I think about it, I bet you’re not in the club to play, are you, Professor Bern? Are these people part of your research?”

She froze. How did he know? Oh no, no, no.

His eyes widened as if he were surprised at her reaction. He jutted his head forward. “That paper you wanted to do on BDSM? Did you let them know you’re studying them like guinea pigs and planning to expose them in a scientific journal for everyone to read?”

The entire room went silent. People turned. Their stares bit into her like piranha, taking chunks of meat with every breath.

The silence lasted and lasted.

“Abigail,” Xavier said, “is that true?”

She tried to thread a lace through the hole of her bustier, but her fingers were numb. Shaking.

“Look at me.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the power in the command jerked her head up as if he’d pulled her hair. “Were you studying the members of the club?”

She nodded. But they’re not guinea pigs, not to me. I’m one of—

“Explain to me.” The muscles of his jaw were so rigid his words came out clipped.

Her mouth was too dry to speak. She’d never been able to talk. Not if someone was mad at her. And she’d never seen anyone as angry as Xavier. Her insides curled up, waiting for the screams, the yells, the curses.

She yanked her gaze away as Logan said to Nathan, “Your ability to overlook a submissive’s use of her safe word—no matter the circumstances—ends your chance to play here.” He jerked his head toward the door.

Nathan backed away, gave her a nasty look, and left, trailed by the brunette. His slut.

“Talk to me, Abby.” Xavier paused, and his voice grew colder. “Or is it Professor Bern?”

She nodded and tried—tried to get words out. He needed to understand. Couldn’t speak. Screams and curses filled her ears, pounding on her brain.

He waited as a minute passed. Two. “All right. Perhaps this is best,” he said finally. “I am too angry to speak to you now, and perhaps you need time to think.” Each word was measured and even and so, so cold.

Ice couldn’t shield her from the knifelike words.

“In the morning I’ll explain the legal ramifications of attempting to publish anything about the club or its members. I suggest you be available.”

I’d never give names. The paper should help, not hurt. She shut her eyes and pulled in a deep breath. Will not cry. Will not cry. The weight of disapproval made her legs unsteady.

When she raised her head, it was to meet Logan’s steely eyes. “You aren’t welcome in here. Stay in your cabin until Xavier comes for you.”

Nothing came to her lips. She nodded and concentrated on walking across the room without looking at anything. Anyone. Her coat was upstairs, but she couldn’t—couldn’t stop. As she reached the front, her shoulders shook as she tried to muffle the sobs welling from deep inside.

She pulled open the door and stepped into the cold.

FURY BOILING IN his veins, Xavier watched the lodge door close behind Abby. Her shoulders had been shaking, and the realization she was crying felt like a kick to his gut.