Gabi and Marcus had clicked right away.
Why could everyone else find a good Dom, when she couldn’t?
For a little while, she’d thought she had found someone. She’d even quit the club’s trainee program to be his slave. Yes, Frank had been intelligent. Had been masterful. Had been perfect.
Frank had been Frankenstein.
“Hey, it’s good to see you, Sally. Where’ve you been?” A burly, older Dom smiled at her.
“I-I just took some time off for a bit.” Thinking I’d found the Dom of my dreams.
Her smile was so unsuccessful that his eyes narrowed in his bulldog face. “Right. I heard that you hooked up with—”
Before he finished, she pretended to recognize someone and hurried past. She felt the heat in her cheeks. Poor submissive couldn’t find herself a Dom, even after being a trainee for so long. Master Z felt sorry for her that she’d fallen for a loser. Maybe all the other Doms did too.
Excuse me, but did I issue invitations to a pity party? She was the only person allowed to feel sorry for her.
“Oh, sister, what’s wrong?” Rainie walked over, a tray in one hand. The trainee’s belly dancer’s costume made the most of such lush curves that Sally felt underendowed. “You look like you just stepped on your pet turtle.”
Sally shuddered. “Ew. Major disgusting.” She could almost hear the crunch of the tiny shell.
“True, but that’s how you look.” Rainie bumped a hip against Sally’s. “You’re supposed to be overjoyed to be back, not all quiet.”
Bouncy Sally, that’s me. Scene with anyone, fuck them as well. The more the merrier. Why had she thought screwing around with everyone would find her a Dom? “Guess I need to work my way back into it.”
“I know what you need—some fun. It’s time to raise some hackles, upset some Masters. How do you feel about pissing off the unpissoffable Mistress Anne?”
“Well.” Picking on the average Doms wasn’t a challenge, but going after the experienced, powerful Shadowlands Masters and Mistresses? That took skill. Courage. Daring.
Intrigued, Sally leaned a hip against an unoccupied leather couch. Pulling a joke on Mistress Anne would be about as safe as playing catch with nitroglycerin. Perilous pranks—a surefire way to raise her spirits. “We’ll die in pain, but it will be worth it. Got some ideas?”
“You know her submissive, Joey?”
“Sure.”
“He says she’s squicked out by big bugs. Any big bugs.”
“Reeeaaally.” The idea was awfully tempting. “Being supportive trainees, we should help her overcome such an unreasonable fear.”
“My thought exactly.”
“Uzuri will want in.” Who else? Sally saw Maxie near the back of the room and shook her head. “Not Maxie or Tanner. Way too nice.”
No one ever called Sally nice. She’d never aspired to such a designation…until Frank. Then she’d tried, bent over backward to be his sweet slave. And failed miserably.
Rainie tapped her fingers against her tray. “We could get spiders. Cockroaches. Beetles…”
Sally yanked herself back into the plan. “The bugs have to be fake, or Master Z will make us catch them, then clean the entire room with toothbrushes.”
Rainie winced. “Not a good chore for me—my tits would drag on the floor. Imitation insects it is.”
“I’ll gather what I can. You and Uzuri do the same. Then we’ll figure out the perfect date for the Night of the Monster Zombie bugs.”
“There’s my Sally girl. Been really boring here without your clever, twisty brain.” Rainie glanced over at the front wall clock. “We’re off duty in a couple of minutes. The new Dom, Saxon, is going to commandeer the poly room for furry play. Want to be a kitten or puppy?”
She didn’t feel at all bouncy and cute…more like a badger. A very bad-tempered badger liable to bite off dangling boy bits. Imagine the mess. “Not this time.”
“Then I’ll see you later.” After a quick squeeze, Rainie cheerfully sashayed toward the rear of the room. Even the tattoos covering her back looked happy.
Sally felt the prickle of tears in her eyes. Face it, she’d only returned to the Shadowlands because she’d missed her buddies.
Not to find a Dom. As she filled her tray again, her shoulders slumped. Pretty sad to realize a dream had died. Years ago, her mama had blown bubbles, sending the iridescent balls floating over the green lawn. Sally had caught them. Time after time, the bubble would pop, leaving only a wet spot on her little hands.
There was a dirty analogy in the story, she knew, wet spots and things blown up and deflating too soon. But she wasn’t in a naughty mood. More of an all-my-bubbles-escaped mood.
Whining again. Sheesh. She set her tray down on the bar top with an annoyed thump and realized she stood next to Master Dan.
“You look tired, sweetheart.” Although he wore the gold-edged black leather vest indicating he was serving as a dungeon monitor, he still came across as a detective.
Scary thought since she had a guilty conscience the size of Master Cullen. “My graduation’s coming up. Is Kari here tonight?”
“No. She’s home with Zane.”
“Home? But…” Kari loves the Shadowlands. Sally bit back the words. She’d been immersed in grad school and hadn’t kept current. Her friend had a baby now; maybe her idea of what was fun had changed.
Instead of moving away as she’d hoped, Dan leaned an elbow on the bar. “Is Hoffman overworking you?”
“Nah.” Digging information out of computers was even more entertaining than playing online war games. “And the lieutenant is a good guy. Did I remember to say thank you?” Dan had pulled the strings to get her the computer forensics internship at his station.
She owed him…and instead, she’d snooped. Guilt tightened her shoulders.
“Not a problem. He says you’re more skilled than any software person there.” A smile lightened the angular lines of his face. “You going to stay on after you graduate?”
“Thinking about it.” As her remorse built, she couldn’t help shifting her weight and retreating a step.
His eyes narrowed. “Sally, what have—”
“Sir.” A young male submissive skidded to a halt beside them. “We need a DM in the back.”
“Coming.” Master Dan nodded to Sally and followed the sub toward the theme rooms.
Oh boy, saved by the subbie. I’m a bad Sally. If he knew she’d snapped pictures of those Harvest Association documents—or worse, what she’d done with the information—he’d put her in handcuffs and not the fun kind. But really, that list of e-mail addresses on paper was a God-given sign she must lend a hand.
Those stupid Feds needed a good geek in their corner.
“How’s it going, pet?”
Sally blinked and pulled herself out of software-land to find Master Cullen watching her with his thick brown brows drawn together. “Uh. Fine.” She forced a smile. “All finished cleaning up my section.” She gave the tray a push forward.
He glanced at his submissive, Andrea. “Can you get that, love?”
Andrea smiled. “Si, Señor.” Before picking up the tray, the tawny-haired woman patted Sally’s hand. “You okay?”
Christ on a crutch, did she appear that wrung out? “I’m good. Just tired.” And frustrated and lonely and starting to grasp a sad truth. Even after she finished her Master’s degree and left school, her love life might not improve.
“The first shift of trainees is free to play now. Has Nolan set you up with someone yet?” Cullen asked.
She shrugged. The idea of doing a scene was…blah. She didn’t feel playful. Or sexy. Or anything. “No.”
She leaned her forearms on the bar top, her shoulders sagging. Might as well go home. She glanced around for Master Nolan. He was in charge of the trainees tonight and would get pissed off if she left without permission. Annoying Master Nolan wasn’t something any submissive wanted to do…although his sub, Beth, said she poked at him occasionally just to watch his face go all hard.
Wish I had someone to poke at. She’d thought Frank would be that Dom, but his response to being teased had been horrible. The yelling hadn’t bothered her much, but when he’d backhanded her? That was not only the final straw but the entire pile of hay.
How humiliating to realize she’d chosen a man like her father.
“Sally.”
She turned toward the sound of Nolan’s gravelly voice.
Oh hell. At the sight of Galen Kouros beside the Dom, Sally almost cringed. Surely the FBI agent hadn’t discovered what she was up to with Dan’s records. She took a hasty step back, bumped into a bar stool, and a person. “Sorry,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Her stomach dropped.
The big man behind her was Vance Buchanan, Galen’s partner. He gripped her arm with a powerful hand to steady her. “Easy there, sweetie.” As he smiled down at her, his sharp blue eyes held both humor and something unrelated to crime—the potent regard of a man.
When she looked away from Vance, Galen had moved closer. Meeting his intense dark eyes was like being sucked into a black river whirlpool…and drowning.
