“Did you have a question for me, little vet?” Alex set a warm hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him.

“Yes. Obviously Cynthia isn't a problem for you any longer, so why am I still pretending to be your submissive?”

Silence.

The pause worried her. Darkness shadowed Alex's face, and she couldn't read his expression. “You have two parts to your question, MacKensie,” he said finally. “First, we are not yet finished with Cynthia. I can promise you that.” His voice had a grim quality that made her shiver.

His voice deepened. “Second.” He tangled his hand in her loose hair and pulled her head back, putting her fully in the light streaming from the glass door. “Are you really pretending, little one? When I do this”—he took a step forward, pressing his body against hers, immobilizing her against the railing, and holding her hair so she was forced to stare up at him—“are you insulted and annoyed? Or does something in you shiver?”

With his body against hers, he couldn't help but feel the tremor that ran through her. Still holding her hair captive, he took her lips roughly, demanding and possessive.

The heat sweeping through her body turned to fire when his hand captured her breast. Too many sensations hit her at once: his mouth possessing hers, his powerful body trapping her, his hand on her breast, the thumb scraping over her tightening nipple. By the time he pulled back, she'd been thoroughly kissed. And thoroughly aroused.

He studied her face before stepping back and letting her free. “Our bargain stands. You may go back in.” He motioned politely to the door.

Her legs unsteady, she reentered the room. Damn. Her face heated as she realized how she must look: tousled and turned on. God knew, she felt turned on, and wasn't that a strange sensation?

A rap on the front door interrupted her thoughts. Were they expecting more people? “I'll get this one, pet,” Alex said, patting her bottom on the way past.

When he opened the door, Mac backed up a step, her breath catching in her throat. Steel, the Dom who'd attacked her, stood there with a big black bag slung over his shoulder and wearing battered leathers that left his chest completely bare.

He saw her standing frozen in the center of the room. “Relax, girl. I'm not here for you.” He glanced at Alex. “Definitely a pretty sub.”

“I think so.” Alex raised his voice to the other guests. “This is Steel, who will handle the evening's punishment.”

As he and Steel moved into the living room, Mac retreated, trying to find an unobtrusive spot to hide.

“Sit here with me.” Curled in one corner of the couch by the windows, Hope patted the cushion beside her.

Mac glanced around. Over by the fireplace, Peter and Zachary shook hands with Steel, while Tess sat nearby listening.

“Thanks.” Mac dropped down on the couch beside Hope. “I-I don't know why that man is here. Alex didn't even know him until…” How could she ever explain what had happened in the club?

“Until he attacked you. Peter told me. He said all the Doms are furious about it, and that's why that guy is here.”

“I don't understand.”

Another knock on the door. Alex strode across the room to answer it.

Mac shook her head, a little dismayed. “Alex called this a really little party, just you guys and—” Her mouth dropped open when Cynthia walked in, hands cuffed in front of her. A man in a black silk suit followed. Probably a few years older than Alex, his black hair was shorter, and gray flecked his neatly trimmed mustache.

“My God, that's Drake,” Hope whispered.

The man named Drake removed the long coat draped over Cynthia's shoulders. He tossed it over the table by the front door and pointed to an empty corner. Eyes down, the tall brunette walked over and knelt, facing the wall.

He and Alex talked for a moment, and then they both crossed the room toward Mac.

When Hope slid off the couch onto her knees, Mac gave her a puzzled look but did the same. Don't look at strange Doms. Mac remembered that rule, so she kept her gaze firmly on the floor. A pair of dress shoes and black trousers stepped into her narrow focus. Alex wore boots. This must be Drake, standing over her.

He'd brought Cynthia. Why? And why did everyone—including Alex—look so grim?

“Hope, return to your master.” Drake's voice was as deep as Alex's, but with a faint European accent and as smooth as cream. Yet the smoothness was like a film of snow over a mountain range, barely covering the power.

Hope scrambled to her feet and escaped, for escape was totally what it looked like.

“Permission?” Drake said.

“Granted.” Alex's voice. Mac's hands fisted at her sides. Cynthia, Steel, and Drake, who frightened sweet Hope. What was going on?

“MacKensie.” That ever-so-suave voice gave the end of her name a slight fillip. “Eyes on me.”

She looked up. Drake held his hand out to her. After a second, she let him pull her to her feet. He stood a couple of inches taller than Alex, and with a man on each side of her, she felt far too much like a bug about to be squashed.

“My name is Drake.” His eyes were as black as his hair. She wanted to step back, but he still had her hand. She glanced at Alex helplessly.

He stepped to her side as if hearing her plea for rescue. “Shhh, little cat. Drake isn't here to upset you.” He scooped her up in his arms, pulling her away from Drake, and sat down on the couch. “So stop upsetting her, you intimidating bastard,” he said.

Rather than striking Alex dead somehow—she didn't know how, but he looked like he could—Drake gave a deep laugh and took the other end of the couch. Her sigh of relief faded when he held his hand out to her again. He waited, palm up in a silent demand, until she'd given him hers. But Alex held her now, and somehow that made everything better.

Drake's hand was warm and dry, firm, with oddly placed calluses. “MacKensie, I own Chains.” He glanced at Alex with a glimmer of a smile. “A few friends invested, but the ultimate authority is mine. You were victimized in my club. Although I can't remove the memory, I must try to make it right.”

He nodded toward Cynthia, who still knelt in the corner. “After the barmaid identified her, a friend in the police force matched her fingerprints to the ones on the note. I wanted to turn her over to the police, but…” He sighed and rubbed his chin.

MacKensie tried to pull her hand away. Obviously the rich, beautiful Cynthia had either cried or bought him off or—

“The club operates under very stringent rules of privacy,” Drake said, interrupting her unspoken tirade. “To convict her would require a trial and witnesses. You would have to take the stand.”

Mac's mouth dropped open. “Me?” She hadn't thought it through at all.

Drake tilted his head. “Alex said you're starting a career here. He doubted you'd want to be identified as having visited a BDSM club, let alone having had an altercation like this one.”

“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.”