Dark Citadel

Chapter Twelve

Dan's chest ached like he'd cracked all his ribs. He rubbed his sternum as he walked back to the Shadowlands. Why Olivia's invitation had hit him so hard, he didn't know; after all, he'd been fending off well-meaning friends for three years now.

Fending off subs too. He remembered Kari's expression a minute ago, how her big eyes had filled with confusion, then hurt. His mouth tightened, and the frozen feeling inside him increased. Being with her a second time had been a mistake. For both of them. It wouldn't happen again.

Not bothering to knock, Dan walked into Z's office. “Got a minute?”

Z set down the paper he'd been reading. “Daniel. Did you have a good evening?”

“Fine.” Dan raised his hand to run it through his hair, stopped halfway, and lowered his arm. Subs weren't the only people who Z could read like a grade-school primer. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up. I won't be able to make the dinner on Friday or be here on Saturday.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No.” The terse answer with no explanation was rude, but he had no damned explanation. Just that he needed to not be here for a while.

Z studied him for a minute before asking, “Was little Kari a disappointment to you?”

Damned mind-reading psychologist could be like a cat with a cornered mouse. “She'll make someone a wonderful sub, I'm sure. I'm not in the market for one, though, and you fucking well know it.” He winced at the raw sound of his own voice.

“I hear you,” Z said mildly. “Well, then. I'll tell Jessica about Friday. We'll miss you on Saturday, Daniel.”

“Right.” Mouth set tight, Daniel headed out, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him.

Outside, he scowled up at the moon, remembering how Kari's pale skin had glowed in its light. He shook his head. Real fucking romantic. He pulled his keys out, headed for his truck. No traffic, he'd be home soon enough.

Home. He sighed, rubbed his face. The thought of his cold, empty apartment made his guts twist. Fine then. He'd hit the station instead, put in some time on his unsolved cases stack.

Early Thursday morning, Kari wandered through her quiet neighborhood, a basket of warm muffins over her arm. Around five in the morning, she'd finally given up on any sleep and put the time to good use.

Tail waving in the air, her German shepherd, Prince, trotted in front of her, guarding her from evil field mice, stray cats, and other dogs. Especially the aggressive poodle that lived three houses down. A cool breeze brushed against her skin and sent droplets from last night's rain pattering off the leaves onto the pavement.

After getting home last night, she'd sat out on the patio, trying to come to terms with Master Dan's behavior. She'd felt so close to him, and he'd acted like he'd felt the same, and then he'd just shut down. But he'd warned her, after all, said he didn't have anything to give. She shook her head. He'd given her more than any man before, but apparently she wasn't enough for him, not compared to his dead wife.

Kari stopped, closed her eyes at the despondency the thought created. But she couldn't see a way to fight a dead wife's memory. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath of the clean air. Life was what it was; she'd just have to move on and cherish the wonderful things she'd learned from him.

She walked up to the Jernigans' porch and left the basket of blueberry muffins on the table beside the mail slot, knowing Mr. Jernigan would find it when he went to get the newspaper. His elderly wife had been discharged from the hospital yesterday, and everyone knew Mr. Jernigan could burn canned soup.

Back on the sidewalk, Kari trailed after Prince, who knew the route as well as she did. Her sneakers slapped against the pavement, reminding her of the sound of flesh against flesh…of Master Dan plunging into her. Lordy. She shook her head, trying to forget that image before she got all heated up again. Impossible task. Too many parts of her ached: her pussy; her swollen mouth; her breasts, almost too sensitive to tolerate her softest bra; her wrists, sore despite the lined cuffs he'd used. She had scrapes on her legs from the straps and a bite mark on her stomach.

Oh, she'd been used and used well. She tried to frown, but her arms wrapped around herself in a do-it-yourself hug, and she laughed instead. Hadn't it just been great?

She danced two steps, then stopped to push little Annie's skates and tricycle off the sidewalk into the grass. Some of those joggers just didn't watch where they were going even in the daylight, let alone at night.

At night…last night, she'd been so aroused that she'd screamed…actually screamed when she came. So many times too. That was just… Wow.

From across the street, a bird warbled a spring song and received an answer from Debra's yard. For the birds, it was nesting season; for her, it was a time to reexamine her life. She wasn't some frigid, passionless person after all; she just needed something more than other people. Something different. Exotic—she'd call it that, since kinky didn't sound very respectable.

Seeing Mrs. Jones hadn't retrieved her newspaper, Kari left it on the cushioned chair next to the front door. The frail woman pushed her walker as incompetently as she drove her old Suburban. An accident waiting to happen.

Prince waited for her on the sidewalk and gave her his humans-are-so-slow look before continuing on. Didn't he realize she had thinking to do?

Last night, Master Dan had changed something in her. Her inability to control what happened and his sure knowledge of how far to push her had broken through some barrier she hadn't known was there. She felt like a beginner's chemistry experiment. Add a little sodium bicarb to vinegar and suddenly she bubbled and fizzed with the best of them. Wasn't that just awesome?

Prince trotted back. She stopped to pet him and frowned at the ugly gray sleeve of her sweatshirt. As a new fizzy person, she really should shine up her test tube. She looked down at herself and her baggy gray sweats, then thought about the ankle-length dress lying on the bed for school. Pretty pathetic. Maybe if she didn't dress like an escapee from a nunnery, she would stop thinking of herself that way. Time to go shopping.

On Friday evening, Kari picked up the ringing phone. “Hello.”

“Kari, this is Buck.”

“Oh. Um. Hi.” She sighed. There must be people who enjoyed going out on Friday evenings, but all she wanted to do was curl up in jammies, eat popcorn, and enjoy a mindless movie. After a week of attempting to teach teenagers, the last thing she wanted was to have a conversation, especially an awkward one. “What's up?”

“We've never had that talk you promised,” he said. “How about I come over? We can discuss what's going on.”

“Ah, that won't work, Buck. I'm beat.” All right, the polite thing would be to say she was sorry, but she wasn't.

A pause. “Are you still mad at me for Monday? I said I was sorry.”

Apparently the discussion would be now. She sat down at the kitchen table and tried to prepare herself. “I'm not mad.”

“Well, good. Then I'll pick you up for the last class tomorrow around eight.”

Maybe she needed to learn to be less polite. Submissive to one man didn't mean that everyone else could walk all over her. “No. Um. I like you, Buck, but I don't want to date anymore.” There. That was plenty blunt. She immediately felt guilty.

“Are you dating that Dom from the club? Is that why you don't want to see me anymore?” His voice held a thread of bitterness.

“I'm sorry, but that's not your business,” she said, striving for the gentle-but-firm tone she used with nosy students who wanted to know about her personal life.

“Kari, that guy's not good for you. I can tell,” he said. “I don't like the way he's got you behaving.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it really is my business.” There had to be a way to get off the phone. Lie. “Sorry, Buck, but I've got another call coming in. I have to go. Bye.”

She punched the End button. Hopefully, he'd never remember that she didn't have call waiting. Bad, bad Kari.

Saturday evening, Kari set the phone down with a loud sigh. Darn it. No—damn it! The auto mechanic had been very apologetic, but the part for her car wouldn't be in until Monday morning. No car till then.

She dropped onto her comfy floral couch and leaned her head back. It wasn't a total disaster. Carol could take her to school on Monday, and she didn't have any place she needed to be this weekend.

Except the Shadowlands.

“Well, Prince, looks like it's you and me tonight.”

Setting his head on her knees, the shepherd looked up at her with big brown eyes, perfectly content to have her at home. She stroked his soft ears and sighed. She'd been off and on about returning to the Shadowlands, but now that she couldn't go, she felt a definite letdown. No BDSM stuff. No Master Dan.

Rising, she paced across her living room. She looked at her wrists, remembering the weight of the cuffs and the erotic feeling of helplessness when Sir had strapped her onto that sawhorse thing. How he'd pinned her hips down as he thrust into her, so big and hard… She shivered as her body roused, craving that sensation again. All those sensations.

Still, she needed to be practical. Over the past couple of days, reality had slowly crept back. Although bondage might be interesting, it wasn't exactly something a person did forever…was it?

She reached the end of the room and turned. How long could a person indulge in…exotic sex? Hmm. When Jessica had talked about Master Dan being a member of the club, she'd said years. And that older couple, Martha and Gerald, had been together for twenty years. They looked perfectly content. Not depraved or anything. So, people could do it for years.

Would she want to? Heat ran through her at the thought. What would it be like to be actively interested in sex instead of putting up with it? What if, after an evening of reading or watching TV, her man ordered her to strip and bend over the arm of the couch for his use? Would that change her life? The instant dampness of her pussy gave her the answer.

Master Dan said she was wired to need domination for true satisfaction. A sexual submissive. She wrinkled her nose. That submissive word still sounded awfully distasteful. But facts were facts. She'd gone to the Shadowlands to test the hypothesis that bondage and domination aroused her. Her experiment, although not done to anything resembling scientific standards, had proven exactly that.

Knowledge gained, new problems discovered. Did she want to pursue this further?

She snorted. Darned right. Not that she could do anything about it tonight.

Ruffling Prince's fur on the way past, she kept pacing. Couldn't do anything about Master Dan either, now could she? Her introduction to the lifestyle might have been completely different if she'd had a different instructor. Sir was…something. All those muscles to run her hands over, the firmness of his grip on her body, the assured authority. His deep, rough voice. Just thinking of him made her burn.

Would he wonder why she wasn't there tonight? Would he miss her? She shook her head and sighed. Doubtful. With all those subs around, he didn't lack for female attention. Yeah, he wouldn't give her a second thought when she didn't show. Even if she had been able to attend the last class tonight, he'd made it clear their time together was over. The jerk.

He didn't want anything permanent; he wanted his dead wife. So it was just as well that her car was hospitalized. Really.

Darn it.

Look on the bright side. By staying home, she wouldn't run into Buck.

Prince whined, reminding her of her petting duties, and she slipped to the floor to hug him. “Buck won't be coming back here again.” Prince hadn't liked Buck at all. “I should have listened to you about him, huh?”

In total agreement, Prince licked her face and leaned against her, leaving hair all over her new red tank top and jeans.

She planted a kiss on top of his furry head. “So did you notice? I've got cleavage. And my legs are pretty good too, for that matter.” Instead of trying to hide her body, she was finding ways to showcase it and enjoy it. Yesterday, the other teachers had been surprised, then effusive with compliments over her new look. Thank you, Master.

“Well, buddy, let me get you some supper and—” Kari stopped. Oh, heck, how could she have forgotten? Jessica expected her to show up early so they could chat. Sir might not miss her, but Jessica would. Kari grabbed the phone again and carried it to her desk. Pulling out a copy of the Shadowlands forms, she found the phone number. Would someone be in the office now?

“Shadowlands.” A man's voice. Low. Familiar. One of the DMs?

“Um. This is Kari Wagner. I was supposed to meet Jessica there tonight. Is there any way I can get a message to her?”

“She is here, Kari. Allow me to call her to—”

“No, there's no need. Can you just tell her that I won't be able to make it?”

There was a pause. “Is there a problem, little one? Can I help?”

Her breath caught. This was no DM; it was Master Z. “No. No, really. My car's in the shop, that's all.”

“And is your lack of transportation good…or bad?”

The insightful question silenced her. “I…” She sighed. “A little of both, I guess. It's all so different, you know?”

“Kari.” His deep voice sharpened. “Did you have a problem with Master Dan?”

Just hearing Sir's name sent blood surging into her face and elsewhere. “No,” she managed to say, her words husky. “No, he was—” Wonderful. Scary. Intimidating. Too much for an inexperienced schoolteacher. “He was fine.”

A chuckle. “I am happy to hear it. I'll give Jessica your message, that you'll be enjoying a quiet evening at home.”

“Thank you,” Kari said glumly and clicked the phone off. Just hearing a Dom's voice with that edge of command brought back all the reasons she wanted to continue. She yearned to hear Sir tell her what to do, to feel his hands holding her, to struggle and get nowhere.

But he wasn't for her.

She shook her head. Get over it. She'd done what she'd set out to do, seen what it was all about. Returning to the Shadowlands would just give her pain, at least until Master Dan had lost some of his appeal. After that, she'd go back and meet someone else.

Until then, maybe she should return to her normal life and normal men. The thought was as appealing as planning to eat oatmeal for three meals a day. Forever. Darn it.

Dan drove out of the police station parking garage and turned toward home without any sense of pleasure. His body sagged against the car seat, his mind equally tired. Three hours waiting to be called as a witness, and then the perp settled, a new form to fill out for snitch money. Dan's partner wanted to go on vacation for a month, and who the hell would he end up with then? Some kid fresh from patrol?

Why hadn't he chosen to be an accountant? A quiet office and numbers. No blood, no violence. Far fewer lies. The paperwork would still suck.

His cell phone rang, and he pulled off to one side of the freeway. Flipping the phone open, he glanced at the number displayed. The Shadowlands.

“Z? What's up?”

“Not Z, Dan. This is Jessica.”

He blinked. Z's sub? “What can I do for you?”

“Well. You know the beginner you were with this week? Kari?”

Knife-edged fear tightened his hand on the phone. “What happened? Is she all right?”

A huff of laughter. “Cops. You always imagine the worst. She's fine. But her car isn't. It's in the shop.”

“She called for a ride?” That didn't seem like the little sub. Unlike most women, she didn't beg for release until he tormented her to the point where her brain shut off. Very doubtful that she asked for help often, at least for herself.

“No, you idiot. She called to say she wouldn't be coming. We were planning to meet early, and she wanted me to know.”

“Well, that's good she called then.” Maybe he'd go tonight then, since she wouldn't be there to mess with his emotions, to lure him into taking more, giving more than he wanted.

“Oh.” A pause. “Right. It's good. Sorry to have bothered you.”

Dan frowned. Had Z's little sub just said “stupid asshole” under her breath?

After pulling back into the heavy traffic, he flipped on the radio, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to Emmylou Harris. The air off the gulf was briny and warm, the sun setting in a clear blue sky. He'd have time for a shower, maybe a fast bite, before leaving for the club.

She wouldn't be there tonight.

Dan turned the music up louder, ignored the bastard who cut in front of him to make an exit. Tampa drivers terrified the nation: macho Cubans mixing it up with aggressive East Coast drivers tailgating retired snowbirds going twenty miles below the speed limit. Driving was probably the most dangerous part of his job as a cop.

She wouldn't be on the road; she didn't have a car. She wouldn't be there tonight.

Good. Very good. He didn't need to see her again. Didn't need any more reminders of her little whimpers right before coming, or the way her hot, soft mouth closed over him, or how her pussy would tighten around him, or—

He slowed to let a bus onto the freeway, breathed in the diesel fumes. Busload of kids, probably some sporting event at the school.

She was a teacher. She'd be a wonderful teacher. He remembered how she'd tried to ease his mind about his carelessness: “I forgive only if I get a kiss to make it all better, Sir.” The tender look in her eyes when she kissed him that first night. And—

Fuck. She just wouldn't stay out of his head. He pulled off the freeway, flipped open the phone, and punched in the number.

“Shadowlands.” Z's voice. Good thing it wasn't Jessica.

“Give me her damn address, you sadistic bastard.”