Sadistic Master Bundle (BDSM Billionaire Erotic Romance)

by Dalia Daudelin

  "Ladies, will you leave us alone a minute?"

  The Devil's wives all gave her sad looks. One, the oldest, frowned a little, looking over at Ashton. "Is everything alright? If there's goin' to be trouble, then we'll keep you safe. We owe Carolyn that much, at least."

  "No, I'm going to be perfectly alright," she said. "Isn't that right, Ashton?"

  Ashton looked bewildered. "You're going to be fine, Cora. Once I get you out of here, we'll get you back home and you'll be completely fine. I promise. I'm sorry I lost you back there."

  The women filed out of the room, but Cora knew that there would be at least one or two in the hall, listening in. It didn't much matter. They had let her know before that Ashton would come, and that it was only a matter of time. They knew who he was, they knew what he was.

  He had his hands wide, and she stepped up and leaned into him, tears starting to flow again even when all she wanted to do was explain to Ashton why she couldn't leave. The past few days had been all she had hoped they would be, but she wanted just one more.

  No, she thought. Not one more. She wanted many more. She wanted her mother back. Well, that wasn't going to happen, she knew. The woman that she had grown to know, grown to like, over the past few days was gone now. The light was out of her eyes.

  "Come on. We'll give her a good burial out back."

  "What about her family?"

  "We'll take care of all of them, Cora. It'll be okay."

  "You won't hurt them, will you?"

  "No, Cora, I won't hurt them. There's only one thing I'm going to hurt. Nothing's going to hurt his wives, not any more."

  Cora looked up at him, her face twisted in confusion. "You don't understand. He's not—"

  Ashton looked into her eyes and pressed a kiss against her lips. "Come back to me."

  Cora shivered at the kiss, and her fingers suddenly felt stiff, but she couldn't figure out why, and a moment later they were alright again. She flexed them anyways, just to be sure.

  Ashton pulled her into a hug with one arm, but Cora didn't miss him reaching out to put the back of one hand gently on Momma's forehead. Then he wrapped her up tight.

  "Come on."

  He started to move toward the door.

  "I'm not going. You're making a mistake, Ashton."

  He turned back. She could see the frustration in his face, could see him holding back saying something.

  "I've made plenty of mistakes in my life, Cora. I've got to go find a shovel."

  "No. Stop." She forced herself to sound more confident than she felt.

  Ash stopped, standing in the doorway. Either the women who she thought would be outside the door had gotten out of there by now, or he was ignoring them because he had expected them just like she had. "Stop and what?"

  "I'm not leaving until you tell me you'll let him be. You don't understand, Ashton. It's not like you think it is."

  He turned. She could see his face darkening, could see the frustration coursing through him right in the lines of his face. "I can't do that, Cora. I don't know what you're seeing that I ain't seeing, but even if you're right, this is bigger than you, me, however many women are in this place."

  "I've met him, Ash."

  "I know. That was him outside the stage, after it turned over."

  "Then, and then we spoke after. He cares for all these women. He takes care of them. This far out, they wouldn't be able to do anything without him around."

  "Cora—"

  "No. If you're going to keep insisting, then just get out of here. I don't want to see you, and I don't want to be your excuse to ruin these women's lives."

  "Cora, you don't know the first thing about my reasons for doing this."

  "I guess I don't know you as well as I thought I did," she growled.

  Ash didn't look back at her. "No, you didn't."

  And then he was gone.

  Twenty-Five

  Ashton pressed his head against the wall. She wasn't listening, and she didn't have the first idea what she'd walked herself into. Now it was going to be on him to try to bring her out, but he wasn't seeing how he could convince her that she wasn't seeing reality.

  Ashton had heard about this sort of thing before, in the most vague sense. People helping out Devils to perform all kinds of crazy things. He had always wondered why they would do something like that. Well, whatever she was seeing, he was watching that happen in front of his eyes.

  The woman's body had been no colder than Cora's, even in that chill. Ash had to hope that counted for something. If that was her mother, and he was willing to accept that Cora would know her own mother, then he could afford a few days. What he couldn't afford was to rely on his own knowledge. He hadn't even finished training when Peters died. The old man kept his pupils close, even when they were finished with their apprenticeship, but he had never felt like one of the boys. Not really.

  He ground his teeth together. He'd have to get back on that horse and make his way back to Salt Lake City. He had to catch a train to New Orleans, and he had to do it in a hurry.

  She might not die before he could get back, but that didn't mean that he could leave it as long as he pleased.

  The way down the mountain was faster than the way up, but Ashton's patience was gone. He didn't have time to waste going down the damn mountain. He traced the quickest route down that he could find, and then set the horse double-quick and pointed himself in the direction of Salt Lake City.

  Daylight was burning. He pulled up into the train station with the sun going down, and the ticket-seller closing up the booth as he rode up. The platform was empty.

  "When's the next train to New Orleans?"

  "You'd get on a train to Chicago and then head south," the man said, continuing to close up. "And it's not until ten in the morning."

  Ashton held off the desire to curse. "Thank you, sir."

  He'd have to wait. No other choice, really.

  Ash laid himself out on one of the benches. What were they going to do—roust him? A hat over his eyes and he let himself slip slowly off to sleep.

  Ashton never remembered his dreams. He preferred it that way. It was easier that way, so even though he could remember just about anything he wanted to, he didn't remember his dreams.

  He woke himself, his body icy-cold in spite of the warming spring weather, twenty minutes before six. The sun still wasn't up, but he pushed himself up straight and headed straight for the nearest place that had lamps lit. He needed a cup of coffee to cool his nerves.

  The wait was too long. If he'd had his preference, then he would have known someone in town, and the two of them would have dragged Cora out of the building. But it was dangerous to do that kind of thing right inside the Devil's own territory alone, and he didn't know anyone.

  The closest he knew were the two in New Orleans, so that was where he was going. The telegraph office charged him two quarters to send the message along that he would be coming to fetch them. Samson and Hewitt would have to leave their post, but they'd understand that the minute he arrived. Until then, they were going to have to wait. But at least he could let them know they were waiting for something.

  Ashton settled back into the bench. There was going to be a long wait ahead of him, and he didn't like it, but that wasn't going to make the Chicago-bound train get there any sooner. He had lost the magazine in the train fire, and though he could remember every page, going over it again in his head didn't feel right.

  Nor, he thought, did picking up another. He needed to focus, couldn't afford any sort of distraction.

  He took in a deep breath, looked at the clock in the middle of town to confirm his mental timekeeping and make sure that he had plenty of time.

  He was losing it. There was a time and a place for nerves. Nobody could get around them. Not even, if he was to be believed, King Peters himself. Doing the job they did meant pushing through that. It meant making sure that they didn't let their nerves control them. That was exactly what he wasn't doing right now, and
if he didn't get it under control by the time that they were back in Utah, it was going to get him killed no matter how much backup he brought.

  It was the cool head that had kept him alive through so many scrapes before. Without it, he was going to lose a hell of a lot more than reputation. He'd lose the girl, he'd lose the thing that killed King Peters, and he'd lose his life on top of all of it.

  The train pulled into the station two hours later, and he stepped onto it carrying a magazine he'd already finished reading and a bag full of hunters' tools, a pistol at his hip, and the knowledge that between three of them, whatever had Cora in its grasp, she was going to be alright.

  Now he just had to wait a couple of days to make the transfer at Chicago, and then another day or so before he'd be in New Orleans, and hope that somehow things didn't get a whole hell of a lot worse while he was gone.

  Something told him to be prepared for anything when he got back to Utah.

  Twenty-Six

  Cora was either getting used to the feeling of the cold, as if she were inoculated somehow, or the protection runes had started to really effect her, because when the Devil took her outside, she couldn't feel it any more. They all went, together, carrying her mother out. But she was the first among them. It was, after all, her mother.

  Cora took the duty with a great deal of pride, but inside she wondered if maybe they hadn't underestimated her mother's relationship with her.

  For years, Cora had never understood why she left. She still didn't, but now she understood at least why she had stayed gone. What she had found out in the West wasn't something that you could find back home, not even with your two children who both missed you. That still stung, and she still doubted whether or not she had any more right to carry the woman to her final resting place than the others, if their relationship was still so weak, so strained.

  But they had all insisted, the Devil himself no less than the others. She was Carolyn's daughter, and that was enough by itself to warrant her carrying her mother. Symbolic, they said, as if it was her who had to most bear the weight of the woman's death.

  Cora didn't know about that. Nobody in the house was anything less than upset about her mother's death. But she would accept that argument, at the very least. If not because she agreed, but just because she couldn't bring herself to hurt their feelings.

  The ceremony itself was quiet and solemn, with each of them saying a few words. Cora tried hard to listen, but the tears wouldn't stop coming, and when it came her time to speak, she stepped up to the grave and just sobbed into her hands.

  The man-Devil came up behind her after a moment and drew her in close, and she cried into his chest. There was a safety there that she couldn't begin to express. As if he had known her for all this time, and she supposed that in a way he had. She was her mother's daughter in many ways that she couldn't have known without spending the past days with her mother, sleeping in the room across the hall.

  They guided her back inside, after a suitable amount of time. She let them walk her, she didn't want to think right now. Didn't want to feel anything at all, really. She just wanted it to go away. She knew, somehow, that it would be easy not to feel. As if the capacity was right within her grasp and all she had to do was reach out and take it.

  The Devil guided her into her bed and pulled the blankets up over her hips, leaving her sat up propped against some pillows.

  "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine, thank you."

  "I'll be right down the hall, if you need me." The Devil stood to leave.

  "Wait. Before you go." He stopped and turned, as accommodating as he had ever been. "I don't know what to call you."

  He smiled a broad smile at her. "Is that all? You haven't known my name all this time?"

  Cora blushed. "No, I haven't."

  "Enoch. Enoch Willis, at your service."

  "Thank you." She smiled at him until he left, and then she smiled for herself.

  The name fit him well. Old-fashioned and polite. He knew how to treat a woman. Nothing like Ashton. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it. It was that simple. At least he was honest about who he was. Why couldn't Ashton see that? The man just wanted to be left alone. He didn't cause any trouble for the folks in town, and he only wanted to spend time with the wives he had left.

  Cora let herself drift off to an uneasy sleep. The dreams that took her brought a blush to her sleeping face. She didn't want to admit how much she liked the idea of her body twisted up with Enoch's.

  She jerked awake suddenly, her underclothes sticking to her body with sweat. The thought had never occurred to her before, that she could stay here. But if this was what it was always like—quiet, close, and respectful, then what would be wrong with it?

  She didn't have to go back to Arthur. She could have died on the frontier just as easily as anything. Then she wouldn't have even met Ashton. That Devil, the first night, would have taken her along with Martin Littlefeather, and then there would have been none of the things that came afterward.

  In a certain way, that Devil letting her live was the reason that she was here at all. Sure, it had killed Martin. And Martin was a good man, as far as she could tell. There was a noise outside.

  "Who's there?"

  Enoch's voice was soft in the hall, but he answered her. "I was just checking on all you ladies. I'm sorry I woke you."

  "You didn't wake me."

  He opened the door a little way. "Is something wrong?"

  "No," she lied.

  "You can't lie to me, Cora Marie Little. I always know. If you want to talk about it, maybe I can help."

  Cora thought for a minute. "When I was in Salt Lake City, I was looking for Momma's old cabin."

  "The one in the mountains, right?"

  "You know about it?"

  "It's where we met the first time. I was out with Harriett. She wanted to see the city again, and… I confess a fondness for mountains."

  "So you went climbing, and found my mother's cabin?"

  "It was very cold, that winter, and I found myself trapped, and she let me stay for a couple of days. Things… progressed from there."

  "Oh."

  "I'm sorry for getting you distracted. You were telling me about something that happened."

  "I was going up the mountain, and—I'm from Detroit, you see. I've never been this far out West before. The furthest I've gone is Chicago, other than the past month."

  "So you hired someone to take you up the mountain. Is that the man who came here to see you?" He must have seen the look of confusion on Cora's face, because Enoch laughed and answered her confusion. "My wives don't keep secrets from me, Cora. They saw him, of course, and they told me. They say he's a handsome man, one who looks very capable."

  Cora found herself telling him the truth, even though she didn't really have to. She could have ignored the question, and something told her that she wouldn't have been pressed on it. Perhaps that was why it was easy to tell him all of this.

  "No, not him. He came later. My brother, Arthur, worried about me coming out West alone, so he sent someone after to make sure I was alright."

  "Did he?"

  "What?"

  "Did he keep you safe?"

  Cora blushed. "Yes."

  "So you were saying, you hired someone to take you up the mountain."

  "He died. That first night, he was killed by something. It was—I can't lie, it was the scariest thing I've ever seen. Something, a monster made out of dust and wind killed him without touching him. Without even reaching for him."

  Enoch nodded. "That sounds very scary. It's a good thing that you weren't hurt. I know that Carolyn would have been… hurt. If you came to any harm."

  "But I didn't."

  "When is your friend coming back?"

  Cora frowned. "I don't know. But I should go back to Detroit, shouldn't I? I came out to find my mother, and now I've done that. Then I stayed to make sure that she saw a proper burial, and I've done that, too."

&
nbsp; "You're welcome to stay as long as you have to."

  "Thank you." Cora could feel tiredness starting to overtake her again.

  "I mean it, Cora. As long as you need. There will always be a bed for you here."

  "Thank you, Enoch."

  Her eyelids were heavy, now. She couldn't keep them open much longer, until finally, she fell asleep completely.

  Twenty-Seven

  Ash pressed his hat further down onto his head. There was nothing to be done now but go inside, but somehow he was taking his time about it. Up to now it had been constant reminders to slow down, relax, and keep his wits about him. Now that he could finally move forward, though, something was stopping him.

  He took a deep breath and gathered up his courage just in time to hear a window open up on the second floor. A man spoke inside, loud enough that Ashton knew he was supposed to hear. "Excuse me, sir?"

  He stepped away far enough to see the man who was speaking. Ash didn't recognize him, but he wasn't over-surprised.

  "Yes?"

  "Mr.'s Burke and Griffin told me to ask if you had any intention of coming inside any time soon, or if they should come and get you."

  Ash scowled. "They'll already know my response."

  "They said as much, sir." He started to shut the window, and then thought better of it. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, sir."

  Ashton adjusted his hat again and took a breath. No more doubting, then. They already knew he was there, anyways. They already more than likely knew why. He had messed up, and now he needed their help. Well, that was the truth, so he might as well own up to it.

  He pulled the door open, only to find the two men he was looking for standing at the top of the steps.

  "Ash Lowe, I swear. How long has it been, baby brother?"

  He was only a year younger than Samson, but he'd been the last to arrive, and that meant that he was the baby of the group, a name he'd never managed to live down.

  "A while."

  "I seem to recall, ten years, almost."

  "About, he growled."

  "Come on up. We've got to discuss this problem of yours before we set off."