My Liege of Dark Haven

Chapter Six

On Tuesday Abby nuzzled a furry body, grinning at the scent of puppy breath. “You are so cute,” she told the tiny fuzz ball. Sure, she’d said the same to the others, but she meant it each time. “You’re going to make someone a wonderful pet, and they’ll love you more than you can understand.”

Tippy stared into her eyes, licked her chin, and accepted every word she said.

“So why do you guys get someone to adore you, and I don’t?” If reincarnation existed, next life she’d demand to be a pampered pet. Snuggled and fed. And carried.

Who knew that being carried could be both scary and seductive? She shivered. Xavier had scooped her up like a puppy.

He’d held her in his lap as if he had nothing better to do. And when he’d kissed her, he’d made that approving sound low in his throat, the tone that turned her bones to melted butter.

Okay, getting a little warm here.

She returned the puppy to the wading pool. Tippy squirmed his way between blankets and siblings, earning small complaints, then, legs trailing, dropped into sleep. Wakened from his slumbers, Blackie rose and stumbled through the pile of bodies, trying to find a new place to settle.

That’s me, Abby thought, not able to fit in and blundering around. Bad enough in an academic setting where she mostly belonged, but in Dark Haven? Whew. She kept expecting someone to yell imposter and toss her out the door.

“Sleep tight, my dears.” Abby made herself a pot of tea, got her notebook, and stepped outside to her tiny half of a backyard. Her stepfather had given her the down payment for the duplex as a graduation gift—thank you, Harold—and the money from her renters paid the mortgage.

She set the tray on the small wrought iron table and took a chair. As the breeze whipped her baggy silk pants, she smoothed down her embroidered tunic top. She’d bought the salwar kameez in India and discovered that the soft materials made perfect lounging wear.

After pouring a cup of tea, she leaned back to enjoy the beauty of her yard. When in England, she’d fallen for the cottage gardens and duplicated them as closely as possible here.

Honeysuckle climbed the dark wooden fence that separated her yard from the other half. Morning glories were trellised along the back of the house. Behind the fragrant heritage roses, her hollyhocks had reached waist high. Patches of lavender, rosemary, and sage added the clean scent of herbs to the air. In the beds, zinnias, marigolds, and impatiens made bright splotches of color, and white-flowering geraniums in containers lightened her tiny patio.

At the sight of a few weeds, she stood, then sat again. No, she needed to work on her paper. Nibbling on the eraser, she considered and then wrote out her thoughts about her last weekend. When a physical description of a Domme slipped in, she erased it. She absolutely wouldn’t risk revealing anyone’s identity.

She was already in an ethical gray area. When does observation become invasive? Was it wrong to research dynamics at a football game without getting consent from the thousands of fans? How about a classroom? And what if the subjects were breaking the law or in an urban gang or alternative lifestyle? What if knowing they were being watched would change their interactions?

Not having their consent made her uneasy, but they seemed quite happy playing in front of other people, so would they really care?

She shook her head and concentrated. Would the tiny Dark Haven community be considered a family or a tribe or maybe a feudal society? The club members treated Xavier more like royalty than a father figure. Even the other Dominants deferred to him. He had “councilors” like Simon, and a Dom everyone called the Enforcer.

The submissives… She tapped her pencil on the paper. They had their own hierarchy, but she didn’t quite grasp how it worked. Of course, some subs weren’t even allowed to speak, and silent greetings and smiles were hard to categorize. To add to the complexity, both Dominants and submissives could be male or female. She hadn’t realized the social network would be as complicated or her analysis of it so time-consuming.

Last Saturday she’d lost quite a bit of observation time during that scene with Xavier. She shifted in her chair. Just the memory made all her female parts tingle. The mixtures of burning and coldness had been overwhelming.

Add in the way Xavier had taken control, doing exactly what he wanted with her. She pursed her lips. She hadn’t had one coherent thought from the application of the first chemical to when he’d stopped kissing her. Talk about sensory overload.

Her research had suffered, but she’d certainly experienced very erotic dreams since. And played with that new toy Xavier had given her. She’d thought of him each time.

She took a big gulp of her tea, burning her mouth. He was the reason she had trouble concentrating on her essay. How was she ever going to face him again? She felt her color rise. Using that stuff and his fingers, he’d made her climax so easily it was humiliating.

Even worse, Nathan was a member of Dark Haven, so he and Xavier must know each other. What if he told Nathan about her?

She raised her chin. Did she care? Nathan had broken everything off. Still…how would Nathan feel if he knew Xavier had put her in the bondage that she’d never let Nathan use?

With a sigh, she watched a hummingbird sample the flowering sage. Even if he’d dumped her, she didn’t want to hurt him. She still missed his company and how they would sit out here and discuss research and statistics. She’d liked having someone to date and someone in her bed. She’d been a girlfriend. Had felt like a normal girl.

You are normal, you moron.

Sometimes. Intellectually brilliant, socially retarded. Graduating high school at sixteen hadn’t been too bad. But the guys in college had called her jailbait. Then she’d received her doctorate a year after she’d been able to legally drink.

Really, she should have scheduled social interactions the same way she had her classes. Maybe then she’d have known how to date. Of course, each time she had actually found a boyfriend, her stepsister had stolen him away.

Nathan had lasted the longest. She’d had hopes… Blinking hard, she took a sip of tea.

Get over it. Everyone suffers disappointments. She had a job—at least until spring. A nice house. A good family. And hey, she had her health too.

A squeak from inside made her smile. Even puppies had problems. Who was she to complain? Nathan was gone, but in his place, she had kinky evenings and an interesting research project.

The phone rang, and she ran into the house to answer, puffing slightly. Must add exercise to the list of things to do this summer. In fact, sex with Xavier would undoubtedly be hot, sweaty, and burn lots of calories. I didn’t need that picture, thank you very much.

“Hello?”

“Abby, sweetheart. How are you? Did you have a nice weekend?”

“I’m good, Mom, and my weekend was okay.” I was tied to a table in a kink club. Someday she’d decide if she was proud of herself or appalled.

“Friday is Grace’s birthday, and I’m making all her favorite foods,” her mother said in her warm voice. “Can you come to an early supper? Around five?”

Birthday. Abby winced. She’d marked the date on her calendar and planned to gift-shop on Sunday. Instead she’d spent the day researching other papers about BDSM. I’m scum. “Of course I’ll come.”

“Wonderful. It’s been a while, and I miss you.”

“Me too.” Smiling, Abby ended the call. Her mom was the best, and her stepfather, Harold, was a pretty good deal as well. And they’d given her a little half sister.

Her smile soured. A shame she’d also gotten a stepsister as well. Harold’s daughter, Janae, two years older than Abby, never missed a chance to insult the interlopers, Abby and her mom. They’d upset Janae’s perfect world where she was the one and only child, and she’d never forgiven them.

Abby frowned. Really, if Janae had possessed a different character, Harold’s doting behavior wouldn’t have spoiled her. But Janae was a walking, talking example of nature over nurture—she simply had a rotten personality.

On Friday, after tapping lightly on the front door, Abby let herself in to her parents’ home. “Helloooo.”

The large living room in sedate blues and greens was empty, but the arched windows to the backyard showed smoke rising from the grill.

“Abby, you’re here. I’d begun to worry.” Her mother bustled out of the kitchen to enfold Abby in a patented mommy hug. Maybe someday Abby would be able to dispense love with the mere tone of her voice.

“I needed to feed the pups one last time before I left.” And clean up the mess. How did a fixed amount of intake create twice as much output? Don’t want to research that one, thank you. “Are the presents outside?”

“Yes. And thoroughly shaken and checked out. She’s already figured out at least three.”

Won’t figure out mine, Abby thought smugly. She’d put the small box with the bracelet and earrings set into a file-sized box.

As she walked onto the patio, Grace jumped up. “Abbeegale!”

Wrapped in a spinning, bouncing hug, Abby squeezed back, laughing. How had her quiet mother and dignified Harold created a child with all this energy?

Grace let go and checked Abby over. “You look good,” she said in delight. “More happy or something.”

“Why, thank you.” Abby tilted her head. “You look older.” In the past year her adorable little sister had transformed into a stunning young woman. Long reddish-blonde hair, big green eyes accentuated by a fair amount of makeup, tight clothes on her slender body. She could be one of Abby’s university students.

“Yes, you look very…healthy, Abby.” Janae leaned a hip on a patio chair. Her lips curled in a smile as fake as her sweet tone. “You might want to avoid the cake. Lots of calories.”

After the sweetness of her mother and Grace’s welcomes, Abby hadn’t braced herself for her stepsister’s animosity. As the insult dug deep, she grew aware of how wide her hips were, how her breasts made their own platform, how slender everyone else was, including her mother. “Thanks for the suggestion,” she said lightly.

Forcing a smile, Abby visualized herself enclosed in a shroud of ice and then thickened the insult shield until the temperature seemed to drop. She’d learned the skill under the barrage of her father’s screams. After Janae had come into her life, she’d perfected the technique.

Harold came from the kitchen, carrying a plate of steak. “There’s the professor!” He set the food on the wide table and gave her a hard hug. Hands on her shoulders, he held her out. “You look far too pretty to be a Doctor Bern.”

She smiled at him. Janae had inherited her father’s slimness, but the gene for compassion had skipped her entirely. “It’s good to see you too.”

An hour or so later, after present-opening and Grace’s favorite meal of high-cholesterol, high-calorie steak and baked potatoes, the conversation started to lag.

Janae rose. “I’m going upstairs to pull out some summer clothes.”

As Harold left to check the stock reports and Grace ran upstairs to flaunt her presents on Facebook, Abby and her mother retired to the kitchen nook.

Ignoring the fresh coffee, Abby boiled water for tea. She definitely needed something to rev her up. She’d stayed up late all week to work on her essay. Then last night her young teaching assistant had quarreled with a boyfriend and spent the night in Abby’s living room, crying and talking. It wouldn’t have been that bad…except the puppies had missed the let’s sleep in memo. Two hours’ sleep wasn’t adequate, not on top of all the other short nights. Tonight at Dark Haven was going to be rough.

“How are you holding up with Nathan gone?” her mom asked, settling down at the tiny table.

Stalling for a good answer, Abby poured water into the teapot, and the bergamot scent of Earl Grey filled the air. “He hasn’t been gone that long. And I’ve been busy.”

“Will you have time for a vacation this summer?”

“I’m teaching the short summer session, which gives me most of August off. Only…I might be job hunting for a new position for spring semester.” Her mouth twisted. “The university is talking cutbacks, so I’m writing a quick research paper to enhance my résumé.”

“Oh.” Her mother’s brows drew together. “Not something you enjoy. What are you working on?”

“Well, I had to find a project interesting enough to be memorable.”

“And?”

Abby gave her a half smile. Thank goodness her mother was a liberal individual. “I’m studying a BDSM club.”

The coffee cup hit the end table with a thud. “You what?”

“It’s research, Mom.” Abby picked up her cup, hoping her mother wouldn’t notice the flush heating her cheeks. Did research involve Xavier touching her…intimately? Sliding a vibrator into her vagina?

“Heavens.” Her mother leaned back in the chair. “What did Nathan say? He agreed to let you wander around a club like that?”

“Perhaps it’s better that he’s not in town.” Abby grinned. “I must say, it’s an interesting place. People are—”

“Why, Abby, I think you’d make an excellent slave,” Janae said from the doorway. “But if you’re going to run around naked with only a collar on, you should start on a serious diet.”

“Thanks for the suggestion.” The insult went nowhere this time. Not with the ice shield in place.

As Janae smirked and left to bid her father good-bye, Abby glanced at her mother. “Bet you’re glad she doesn’t visit often.”

“I always hoped she’d stop resenting us, but it’s not going to happen. Poor Harold has no idea how nasty she is, and I never had the heart to tell him.” Her mother gave her a repentant look. “I’m sorry she made your high school years so miserable. I should have taken her to task or something…”

Abby shrugged. The insults—and losing any boy who showed a hint of interest—had been painful, but she’d survived, and after Janae, sarcastic professors were a piece of cake. “It’s not your fault. We both avoid confrontations.” Even now the thought of someone yelling—of Dad yelling—made Abby cringe. But Mom had suffered the worst. Abby had been a child and able to escape to school; her mother had never been able to get away.

“I feel as if I should—”

“No, you shouldn’t.” Abby patted her mother’s hand. “Having you happy, and having Harold and Grace in our lives, is worth putting up with a bit of bitchiness. Someday someone will give Janae a wake-up call. It won’t be us, but that’s okay.”