My Liege of Dark Haven

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Oh.” Her eyes took on a sheen of tears, and then she nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he said softly. “Now, let’s play chess.” Her startled blink made him chuckle, and he gave her the absolute truth. “If I get you alone, I’m going to ravage you, pet.” He stroked her soft, soft cheek with his thumb and wanted to fill his palms with— He removed his hand and stepped back. “We need to talk first.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” she said under her breath. “Um. Chess. I’ll take white.”

  Somehow she managed to make him want to laugh and hug her at the same time. Instead he seated her at the table and chose the chair across from her. “White starts.”

  Her bishop’s pawn moved out. He took his turn. They played silently for a few moves until he realized she’d let the silence hang forever—in the other game they were playing. Your move, Leduc. “You affect me in ways I’m not used to.”

  Her gaze darted up to his, and, brave sub, she took her verbal turn, even as her bishop slid into position. “What ways? And if so, why did you…you…”

  “I avoided you, yes. And that was the reason,” he said. “Since my wife died, I haven’t been with anyone who affected me other than physically.” He cleared a space for his queen to move out.

  As she spoke, he heard the hurt in her voice. “You didn’t want to look at me when we made love. You turned me over.”

  This observation was harder to answer. “Actually…” He sighed. “Sometimes I see her face when I’m with someone. That feels wrong, so I avoid the missionary position.” He needed to finish the thought for her sake. For honesty. “With you, I pulled away because all I saw was you.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the board. “I’m sorry about your wife. How long ago did she die?”

  “Four years. And I’ve been comfortable with the way I live my life.” He tried to think of what he wanted to say next.

  “Tell me about her? How you met. Who she was.”

  He hesitated. He never spoke of Catherine. But Abby was watching him, her big eyes sad on his behalf. “She wasn’t traditionally beautiful. Just vibrant. Her husband and I attended grad school together and stayed friends. She was his slave, and when he died she became lost in a way that independent women can’t imagine. She wasn’t helpless, but…” How could he explain? “She was a person in a sailboat without an anchor. You might be an excellent sailor, but if your anchor is gone, then every time you relax, your boat blows off course.”

  “I understand,” she said softly. “I’ve seen that happen with elderly widows. For a slave used to a more encompassing control, it must be terrifying.”

  Softhearted Abby. “I couldn’t tolerate seeing that, so I took her home.” He lifted a bishop and rolled it between his fingers. “I’d only planned to keep her safe, but as time passed, we fell in love. She became my slave, my partner, my wife. When the local BDSM club went out of business, I started Dark Haven so she’d have a place to be with other slaves.” She was my everything, in every corner of my life and heart.

  Abby’s brows drew together. “Now you have slaves at home and still play with others at the club?”

  She’d heard some gossip, then. “Close. I date some women, I’ll scene with club members or staff, and I’ll keep a slave until I find her a Master.” She probably should know that wasn’t his true nature. “I actually don’t enjoy being a twenty-four/seven Master.” He half smiled, remembering an argument with Catherine.

  “You’re a big girl. You can pick out your own clothes.”

  “No. I should wear only what pleases you.”

  “Oh.” With a finger, she pushed a pawn forward one space.

  “Avoiding you didn’t work, Abby. I’d like more.” He moved his bishop. “So the question is this: would you like to explore submission outside the club?”

  Her gaze came up long enough for him to see the desire in her eyes. Without answering, she set her castle into action.

  He waited. They played for a few minutes, and he had her bishop, but she’d taken his knight in turn. Pawns fell by the wayside. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

  The corner of her mouth rose. “I’m thinking that you’re awfully bossy.”

  He grasped her wrists—so delicate in his big hands—and flattened her arms on each side of the board. “I am that, pet, and you enjoy it. Now give me an answer and not an evasion.”

  The flush in her face was a telling response to his control and attracted him in the same way his dominance did her. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip.

  “You want to…play…with me outside the club,” she said slowly. “But you’d still date others? We’d have no commitment to each other?”

  He regretted the hint of unhappiness in her voice, but he couldn’t give her what he no longer had. “No commitments. Let’s play it by ear for now.”

  “Perhaps that would be wise.” She turned a pawn in her fingers, studying the piece as if it held answers. “I think… Yes. I’d like to try. Sir.”

  He sat back and studied the board. She’d said yes. Why did he feel uncomfortable with that? Perhaps because his territorial instincts were yelling, This one is mine.

  But he couldn’t ask for what he wasn’t willing to give in return. His instincts would just have to suffer.

  He returned his attention to the game. When had she taken his queen? In fact, far too many of his pieces had fallen victim to the sweet little fluff on the other side of the table. His eyes narrowed. Her next move would put his king in check, and he had nothing to prevent it. “You sneaky little sub.”

  When she gave him a worried look, he couldn’t keep from grinning.

  And she laughed, more open than he’d heard before, a throaty, happy sound that ran up his spine and tightened his chest.

  This one is mine.

  Chapter Twelve

  In the early evening, guests interested in kinkier games had piled into a long trailer heaped with hay. As Virgil’s pickup slowly pulled the wagon down a tiny road, Abby recalled her grandmother’s sentimental stories about horse-drawn hayrides. Gran might not have been so nostalgic if her rides had terminated in a kinky battle zone.

  Still a bit unsettled from the talk with Xavier, Abby was grateful for the long ride. Too many surprises weren’t good for the nerves.

  He wanted to play with her. Her.

  And he wasn’t cold at all—if anything, he cared too deeply. She leaned back against him, reassured by his strong arm around her as the wagon bumped along. After hearing the pain in his voice when he spoke of his wife, she understood him better. What would it do to such a protective—and controlling—man if he couldn’t save someone he loved?

  Her heart ached for him—and a little for herself, because he obviously didn’t want to care for anyone else. But she wasn’t ready to jump into anything either. In fact, it was rather appalling how quickly she’d had sex with Xavier.

  What kind of a woman had a relationship fall apart and jumped into bed with another man? Hadn’t she loved Nathan at all? I don’t know anymore.

  The trailer came to a halt, and everyone spilled out into a wide clearing surrounded by thick forest. Abby balanced on the wagon side and looked around. Trails led off into the shadowy woods. On one side, various items were piled on hay bales.

  “Come, Abby.” Already on the ground, Xavier grasped her around the waist and lifted her down so easily that it took her breath. “I think Lindsey could use some support,” he said, leading her across the clearing.

  He stopped beside Lindsey and put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re pale, pet. Are you all right?”

  Lindsey nodded, although the spattering of freckles stood out on her face, and her brown eyes were wide.

  And no wonder. First kinky games in the woods, then later tonight came the dungeon party. How could anyone come to a weekend like this alone? Abby squeezed her hand. Receptionists needed to stick together.

  Fingering the white glow-stick collar around her neck, Lindsey gave her a g
rateful look.

  Virgil Masterson stepped onto a hay bale. “Ladies and gentlemen, Tops and bottoms, Masters and slaves, Doms and subs, listen up.” The cop was not only big but had a voice designed for crowd control. “This is a war game. Spectators and noncombatants, please remain by the truck. You’ll get a ride to the end of the trail.

  “The Dominants—I’m going to call you ‘Tops’ for ease of speaking—are defending their country. The bottoms are the invaders.”

  “Invading submissives? That just sounds wrong,” someone said. Abby recognized Xavier’s Enforcer. DeVries wore a tank top that showed arms and shoulders thick with muscle. No wonder he could wield a heavy flogger for what seemed like forever.

  Virgil grinned at him and continued. “All the trails lead to the same place, and the perimeter is fenced, so you can’t get lost. Sing out if you run into trouble. Gerald and Garth”—he gestured to two men wearing orange vests—“are the monitors, and their word is law.

  “Attached Tops, shoot only at your bottom. Single Tops can shoot at anyone wearing a glowing white collar.

  “Bottoms, there are balls in the clearing at the end. Grab one and throw it into the wading pool. If you manage that, you’ve won, and your Top will owe you foot rubs or whatever.” He pointed to a container with laminated paper cards. “Each Top picks five cards for potential prizes so his bottom has a choice.”

  “And how does a Dom prevent such an atrocity as having his submissive win?” The question came from Logan, and Rebecca slapped his arm in admonishment. His hard face softened, and he pulled her against him, her back to his chest. His hands smoothed over her belly with a reverent motion.

  “Because the Tops get weapons—four pistols.” Virgil pointed to water pistols filled with colored water on the hay bales.

  “Sounding better,” deVries said in approval.

  Abby scowled. Talk about uneven odds. “I want a gun too.”

  “Dream on, little teacher.” Xavier caught her fist before she could punch him. He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms over hers, pinning her arms to her sides. When she squirmed, he changed his position so each hand cupped a breast. The slide of heat through her was startling.

  Lindsey glanced over and snickered.

  “What are the black-filled pistols for?” Xavier asked Virgil.

  Virgil grinned. “The black is the kill shot, and the bottom is dead. Now, if you don’t kill her before she tosses a ball into the pool, she wins, and you might get stuck giving foot rubs for a week.

  Abby glanced over her shoulder at Xavier. “I like foot rubs.”

  His arms tightened, and he whispered in her ear, “I like blowjobs.”

  The tremor that ran through her made him laugh.

  “That’s black. Why the other colors?” a Domme asked.

  “Ah, now that’s where it gets fun. Each color is for a different…orifice. Can you demonstrate, Logan?”

  Grinning, Logan released his wife. He picked up three pistols and fired the first at Rebecca. Crimson liquid splattered over her bare foot. “Red means I get to enjoy her pussy.” Another pistol. Blue covered her ankle. “Blue is for the mouth. She gets to suck me off.” Brown hit her other foot. “Can you guess what brown means, sugar?”

  She scowled at him. “The big asshole gets to use my asshole.”

  Abby joined the submissives in cheering her answer.

  Logan narrowed his eyes at his wife. “That big belly isn’t going to protect you, little rebel.” He turned back to the crowd. “If your bottom is male, you can choose how to use the red color.”

  Virgil laughed and resumed. “If you’ve only hit your bottom with red dye before the kill shot, then you’ve only won her pussy. Nothing else.” Virgil pointed to Rebecca. “You see how Logan got Becca with three colors. He potentially wins the use of all three orifices, but only if he nails her with the black after the three colors. No black on the submissive? You win nothing.”

  Summer pushed Virgil off the hay bale and stepped on. “See, bottoms? There’s hope. Your greedy Tops will try to shoot you with all three colors and probably won’t use the kill shot until the last minute. So unless you get hit with black, keep going.”

  Virgil yanked her over his shoulder and swatted her ass, making her squeak. “Bottoms, don’t hide to avoid losing. You’ll be declared a prisoner of war, and we’ll take turns beating on you before giving you over to your Top for whatever he or she wants to do to you.”

  Every bottom in the crowd went stiff, and Virgil nodded in satisfaction.

  “You got it, I see. All losing bottoms get displayed on the stage before being released to their Tops.”

  PUTTING THE LOSERS on the stage to exhibit them? Lindsey shivered. What would that be like? She didn’t hold much hope that she’d win. She was in good shape, but some of the Doms were scary fit, and there might be more than one—hopefully—interested in shooting at her.

  Lindsey glanced at Abby. Although Xavier was fondling her breasts, he was also holding her almost tenderly. Lindsey sighed silently. She doubted they’d be together long—Xavier had a real sorry reputation for submissive turnover—but they looked right. At least Abby would know the person who’d claim her for a prize tonight.

  What if I don’t like who wins me? But she’d known the risk when she’d jumped on the hayride. No need to get all worked up until the end of the game. She tugged on the white glow-stick collar around her neck, then raised her hand like a schoolgirl. “Sir?”

  Virgil set his wife down. “Lindsey, right?”

  She nodded. “What happens if more than one Top shoots a bottom? And how do you tell who did?”

  When deVries turned to give her a speculative look, she felt her face turn red. She glared at him. Not you. He had the personality of a half-drowned weasel.

  “Excellent question. Single Tops, listen up. Those pistols are for you.” Virgil pointed to a separate pile of weapons. “The red, blue, and brown ammunition”—he grinned—“also has sparkles. You’ll get assigned a sparkle color. At the end, you can claim the appropriate prize—um, orifices—from any bottoms that glitter with your color. Black doesn’t count. As long as the bottom loses—to whomever—all the Tops may claim their prizes.”

  Lindsey caught her breath. More than one Top can use me? On the drive out, Summer had asked if she wanted to be taken by more than one man. Lindsey had figured she was joking, but…the idea really turned her on too.

  Virgil apparently read her surprise as confusion. “Lindsey, if you lose, and your body shows a red with pink sparkles, blue with black sparkles, and brown with white sparkles, then three Tops will pay you a visit.” He grinned at her.

  She managed to inhale but could feel her heart hammering. Shoot, girl, what have you done?

  “Bottoms, do remember, the club safe word at Serenity, Dark Haven, and here in the war zone is red. Safe words are always honored,” Virgil said.

  “Lindsey, look at the bright side,” Summer said. “If you don’t get killed, you get to demand a prize from any Top who shot you. Single Tops, if you shoot two bottoms and they both win, you have to pay them both off.”

  SEEING THE WORRY on Lindsey’s face, Abby patted her arm. “You okay?”

  Lindsey fingered her white collar. “Mostly. The idea of two at once is kind of a whole ’nother thing. But I’ve thought on it before. Might be fun.”

  A threesome? The Texan had some courage, all right.

  Xavier released Abby to run his hand up Lindsey’s arm. “Simon only invites certain Tops and bottoms from Dark Haven. For this game, Logan and Jake did the same for the locals. You shouldn’t end up with a Top who’s totally ill-suited to you.”

  As Lindsey relaxed, Abby rubbed her head against Xavier’s chest. He had a wellspring of compassion.

  He put his arm around Abby’s waist and bent to whisper, “You, however, are stuck with me, whether it suits you or not.”

  His breath brushed her ear and sent pinpricks down her neck.

  Virgil pointed to
a row of bowls on two hay bales. “Those are fluorescent finger paints. Mark which bottom is yours. For clarity, use only one or two colors, and keep your design unique.”

  Logan checked his watch. “Bottoms, there are sacks for your clothing, and water shoes to wear if you’re tender-footed. Tops, grab a belt, pistols, and five reward cards. Do some finger painting. The war starts in exactly ten minutes.”

  Xavier released Abby. “Strip, put your clothes in a sack, and wait for me here.”

  A rush of adrenaline went through her. “Everything?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I’m not—”I don’t know if I want to do this. “Not athletic.”

  He tugged on her hair. “Excellent. I won’t have to exert myself to get all three shots in first.”

  Her eyes widened. All three. She’d never had anal sex. Ever.

  He walked a few steps and said without looking back, “Be naked before I return, or you’ll enter the game with my handprint on your ass.”

  Uh-uh. She hurriedly stripped, shivering as she stuffed her clothes in a sack. The sun had disappeared behind the trees, leaving the world in a shadowy, semitwilight state. The air held a snowy mountain bite. She pulled on the rubber-soled booties to cushion her feet.

  To her right, people had started finger-painting. One Domme made circles around her submissive’s cock. Another Dom was putting cat whisker stripes on a woman’s face.

  A hard hand gripped Abby’s arm, and Xavier drew her close to the bowls of paint. After a second of consideration, he chose a bright blue. “Don’t move, little fluff,” he said. “I’m going to give myself something to aim at.” He painted a circle around the outside of her left breast.

  Her mouth dropped open. “You’re going to shoot at me there?”

  “Only with the blue pistol.” A yellow circle followed, then another blue. He finished by painting yellow on her areola. After he painted her other breast, he smiled. “Perfect bull’s-eye targets, don’t you think?”