Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night (16 page)

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. If it’s Holly, you two need to find her and bring her home. The last thing our girl needs is to get taken back to the labs.”

Kurt ended the call, and Tex tucked the phone back into his pocket. Without another comment, the men trotted back down the street and slipped into the front door of Dark Haven.

Chapter Two

Hidden by the shadows of the dungeon, Holly pressed the heel of her hand over her chest, struggling to catch her breath. Her heart pounded as though she’d been running for miles, and every nerve in her body fired off conflicting signals.

They were here.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten, gathering her self-control. When she opened her eyes, she glanced down at the handle of the leather strap she clasped and then looked at the rosy ass of the sub she’d been punishing. Slowly she circled him. He waited in a heightened state of expectation and anxiety. His cock was rigid, and his breathing came fast; he was just on the verge of the climax she’d forbidden. If she ran, Holly would draw more than a little attention to herself.

Especially if she left the poor man tied to the St. Andrew’s cross, wearing nothing but a blindfold, his cock waving in the air.

She pulled a breath and cast her enhanced senses through the room and then out through the building. They were here, but not in the same space as she. If she was lucky, she could finish the scene and sneak out the dungeon exit.

Holly replaced the strap with a tiny wheel that caused a prickling sensation on the skin. She loosened his bindings and placed his hands on top of his head. “Stay as you are.
Do not move
.” She ran the wheel up his quivering belly to his chest and gently rounded his nipples. In spite of her tension, she smiled as he trembled. She leaned down and trailed her tongue along the path of the wheel. He tasted good, like salt and sex and human. Good, but not what she wanted.

“Anthony, do you want to come?” she whispered into his ear.

He swallowed and nodded. His body was taut with need. A shiny drop of precum welled at the eye of his penis.

“Say it.”

“Mistress, I need to come. Please.”

“You’ve done very well, Anthony. You may come.
Now
.”

Without so much as a touch to his flushed, engorged cock, the sub arched his back, crying out in climax. Holly stepped to the side, watching the milky fluid spurt to the floor. She looked up into his face and, as always, was awed by the sheer abandon and ecstasy that came with orgasm. As she’d never before experienced it herself, it always delighted her to watch another carried over that mysterious edge. Someday she’d know what it felt like. Someday the aching in her body would find release.

Once she brought him down from the cross, he thanked her properly—with a kiss on each leather boot. Holly escorted Anthony to a cooldown space. Some needed more aftercare, but Anthony preferred solitude, wrapped in nothing but the wooly bliss of his subspace. He wasn’t particularly demanding or needy. He wanted nothing from Holly but dominance.

That was exactly what she’d needed tonight. Obedience and gratitude. The satisfaction of being the one to push him to complete sexual annihilation.

As she gathered up her belongings, Holly searched with her nose and ears and that other indefinable sense that had been grafted into her DNA. The men were gone, and she stifled a sense of disappointment. After all, she’d run away half expecting to be hunted. She should have known Chase would respect her need to leave the pack and find herself. He’d never hunted the other women who’d left and always accepted them back without question. Why should she be any different?

She had to laugh at her own capriciousness; she’d left in order to find herself, and yet in leaving Truckee, she’d left a good part of herself behind. She was in no position to be angry with the men. She’d gotten exactly what she’d asked for: space and time. Her ego had been bruised, but that certainly wasn’t their fault. It was perverse of her to expect them to follow her. But still… She shook that thought away. What were they doing here tonight?

Something must have happened to bring them here.

Of course, they might be here for fun.

Even as the insidious thought crossed her mind, she rejected it. They weren’t here to play, not with Kurt along. He was far too sensitive to expose himself to a place like Dark Haven. Ethan would never push him to do something like that.

Anxiety played at her nerves. She should go upstairs and confront the men, assert her independence. And she should find out what was wrong.

But two of the men upstairs were her reason for leaving the Truckee pack in the first place. She’d run away, and they hadn’t followed her. She bit her lip, debating what to do.

Step by step, she climbed the stairs, wondering if they would recognize her. Hunter would; he’d been the last person ever to set eyes on her human form. She might be able to slip past the others. And Tex… The thought of her gentle cowboy made her heart ache a little. Sweet as he was, he’d see only a complete stranger, not the wolf he’d grown to know.

As she climbed, the music grew louder. Men’s and women’s shouts rose above the cries and screams of the subs in the dungeon. It had taken weeks to desensitize herself to the raw emotion from that room. It had taken even longer to find the courage to submerge herself in classes on domination, force herself to pick up the tools of the trade. The ability to unlock a sub went a long way toward salvaging the broken woman. Holly knew she’d never be normal, but at least she could function. She could live a life among humans…hold a job, and maybe she’d be brave enough to love.

Upstairs a crowd had gathered around the mechanical bull, and in spite of her tension, she smiled at the spectacle. A bare-breasted woman rode the bull as it moved in slow motion. When she came off the machine, she fell in a tumble of ruffled skirts and lacy petticoats. Amid shouts and laughter, she cheerfully dropped her skirt and climbed back onto the bull. She wore nothing but a lacy pink thong. Strip bull-riding.

Holly rolled her eyes and laughed.

The rest of the sub’s clothing was scattered across the stage. She glanced over to the other stage; a sub was busy handing bundles of short pegging strings to doms while several submissives huddled in a group, waiting for Master Xavier and Master Simon to pair them up with their “cowboys.” Holly shook her head ruefully. That old Billy Ray Cyrus song blasted through the sound system, prompting a dozen nearly naked subs to gather in a slightly obscene version of a line dance. Looked like Master Xavier was in the mood for skin tonight!

“Mistress Holly?”

She paused and smiled at the young woman who waited, hands folded and head politely bowed.

“Yes, Jenna?”

The sub kept her eyes lowered. “We’re doing calf roping. Would you like to participate?”

Calf roping? Like in the rodeo? As she watched, a young woman darted out onto the stage, followed by a dom who quickly roped her, smoothly dropped her to the floor, and then caught her hands and feet with the short rawhide strips. He jumped up, hands in the air to stop the clock. Holly had never been to the rodeo, but she’d watched when Tex would turn on the television and cheer for his favorites.

Little Summer Aragon was staring wide-eyed at the gigantic dom she’d just been assigned. Holly frowned; the girl seemed a bit fragile for such a huge man, but Xavier was skilled in pairing the right sub to a Dominant. She stifled her concern. In this past year, the greatest thing she’d learned was to give and accept trust. Those two had to work it out together, knowing that Xavier wouldn’t mislead them.

“Not tonight, Jenna. But thank you.” She smiled a dismissal at the young woman and moved on. She took to the shadows, searching for men who were taller, more beautiful, and more fundamentally alive than the others in the club.

There.

She sensed that Kurt and Ethan were gone, but a tall, golden man sauntered into the room. Her eyes were drawn to Tex Texiera as though he were the sun. His walk was loose and confident, yet he was alert, scanning the crowd. He wore the sort of clothing that she’d frequently seen him in at home: boots and jeans and a cowboy hat. A battered leather vest was worn over his shirt, and a lariat hung from his hip. He carried a leather bag that looked suspiciously like hers. Tex looked comfortable in his skin. Comfortable in this environment.

She swallowed. Tex fit right in here at Dark Haven. She’d never suspected that he might be kinked. She chewed her lip, contemplating Tex topping a sub. In her imagination, the sub looked an awful lot like
her
. She shivered and continued to study her friend.

She knew his eyes were as blue as the sky against his sun-browned skin. She knew that when he smiled, a deep line would cut into the smooth skin of his cheek, and his smile would sparkle like the sun on water. She knew exactly how he smelled and even how he tasted. Her belly gripped, and for a moment, she gave herself to the arousal that washed through her.

A moment later, the second man entered and prowled toward the other side of the room. Hunter moved like a panther, smooth and sleek, not a motion wasted. Smiles were foreign to his face, though when they were young, he’d always had a smile just for her. Hunter was compassion and courage and justice all rolled into one single beautiful package. He was tragic and magnificent and heroic. He was as dark as Tex was bright, and when she saw the feral intensity on his face, she swallowed. He was hunting.

He’d caught her scent.

Holly went still, knowing that if she moved—if she breathed—he’d be on to her. As the men wove between tables and through the crowd, she moved in counterpoint, working her way toward the lobby. It wouldn’t be much longer before Hunter sorted her scent from the tangle of bodies and perfumes, particularly if he went downstairs, where she’d been running her scene. It seemed to take forever, but soon enough, she was able to slip into the darkness of the evening. She kicked off her secondhand boots and hid them and her bag behind a Dumpster in the back alley. She paused, scenting the faint trail that Ethan and Kurt had taken as they left the club. There was a third scent with theirs, but she didn’t take time to identify it.

Holly jogged down the sidewalk and ducked into another alley, then peered around the corner to see if the men had managed to track her outside the club.

And then she leaned against the brick wall, threw her head back, and laughed in delight.

They’d finally come.

* * *

“She was here.
Right here
.”

Hunter’s chest felt tight, and his heart pounded. Fear and relief mingled with fierce joy. Her scent was sweet and laced with the edge of arousal. These months that Holly had been gone had been the longest of his life, for he’d loved her for years. It seemed that he’d hurt for her so much longer. Holly had been the one constant in his life since they’d been children who’d been taken by Abraxas and warehoused in its labs. While they’d rarely been given access to each other, he’d always watched for her when he was moved around the facility. They’d formed a relationship that had survived even through her miserable pregnancies and the repeated rounds of torturous abuse they’d both suffered.

It wasn’t until that final day of captivity that he’d lost hope of her…for her. That last horrific, miraculous day when Chase’s men had raided the foul little lab complex they’d been housed in and had carried them to freedom and safety.

From that day on, Holly had been a wolf, and Hunter had remained a human. He hadn’t shifted a single time in the years of their freedom. He’d stood back and watched in impotent fury and painful jealousy as Holly’s wolf had turned away from him, going to Tex for comfort and companionship.

He wasn’t jealous of the other man for sexual or reproductive reasons, but simply because the big cowboy was so easy with his heart. He shared himself completely. Hunter had seen her falling in love with Tex, but Tex remained oblivious. Time and again, Tex would spend hours in her company, sometimes shifting and running with her. Time and again, he’d head off to the cities and bars to find sexual companionship. Tex would come home wearing the scents of the men and women he’d slept with, never noticing the devastation in Holly’s eyes when he returned.

Even now, Tex was aroused by the open sexuality that surrounded him. A glance at the front of his jeans told Hunter he was erect, half ready to take his pleasure with any one of the willing humans even though Holly was so near.

“She was with a man. I smell his seed mingled with her scent.” Tex’s voice was gravelly and rough. The wolf was rising. Finally he was showing some emotion. Hunter closed his eyes and focused on the scent of the human. It was stronger, and he was close. They moved through the maze of bondage apparatus and tables and followed the man’s scent to a small, dark room at the back of the building.

He saw the man reclining on a sheet-covered sofa. He wasn’t sleeping, but rather in a blissful state that reminded Hunter of someone high on drugs.

Holly’s scent was all over him.

Hackles rose on his neck, and a low growl rumbled from his throat. Tex reached out to gently restrain him, holding him back. He glared at the other man, and Tex shook his head slightly, leading the way back up the stairs.

“He was with her!” Hunter’s fury had him seeing red. Tex hauled him to a small round table and forced him into a chair. When a waitress started in their direction, he shook his head curtly.

“They were together, but not…together. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think Holly topped him tonight.”

Hunter looked up in confusion. He’d blocked some of the more disturbing impressions of the place from his awareness. It surprised him how quickly he’d grown blind to the nudity and deaf to the pleasured screams of the subs. He’d even caught the scent of blood, but had set that aside as well. He’d grown up surrounded by sex and blood and screams; this place was confusing in the amount of pleasure that lingered in the air like a haze. He looked around, somewhat surprised by his arousal. The sheer eroticism of the place washed over him, and suddenly, the night was rife with possibility.