Seduced By My Doms BN

by Jenna Jacob

  Seduced By My Doms

  The Doms of Genesis, Book 5

  Jenna Jacob

  Seduced By My Doms

  The Doms of Genesis, Book 5

  Jenna Jacob

  Published by Jenna Jacob

  Copyright 2015 Dream Words, LLC

  Edited by: Riane Holt & Kasi Alexander

  Cover Art by: Dee Allen

  ePub ISBN 978-0-9864306-0-2

  Print ISBN 978-0-9864306-9-5

  If you have purchased a copy of this eBook, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the rights to resell, distribute, print, or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload to a file sharing peer to peer program. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. If you no longer want this book, you may not give your copy to someone else. Delete it from your computer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  To Sean

  With all my love, forever and a day.

  A Special Thank You to

  Melissa, Amy,

  Shayla, Isabella, Dee, Riane,

  Kasi, Tracy, Lindsey,

  Brea, and Rhonda.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COMING SOON

  OTHER TITLES AVAILABLE BY:

  EXCERPT: HIS TO TAKE by Shayla Black

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Is there a full moon tonight, or what? This is beyond crazy,” I mumbled, striding to the nurses’ station and sidling up next to Cindy, my best friend and supervisor.

  Without taking her dark eyes off the patient chart in her hand, she nodded. “It’s balls to the wall, that’s for sure. Oh, and Dr. Reynolds just informed me, EMS is en route again. E.T.A. is six minutes.”

  The Emergency Room of Highland Park Hospital, where Cindy and I worked had been filled to capacity since my shift began at noon. The entire unit had been slammed with patients from a six-car pile up on the Interstate. Cindy and I hadn’t had time to utter more than a few words all night, and with the waiting room still packed, that wasn’t likely to change.

  “Somebody needs to take away the baton from whoever’s leading this parade.” I grumbled, waiting for the printer to spit out discharge papers for a six year old with tonsillitis.

  “They will, in two more hours at shift change.” Cindy laughed then quickly sobered. “Hey, if you’ll keep an eye on my patients in two, six, seven, and fourteen, I’ll take the guy coming in.”

  Cindy’s offer, though benign, spiked my suspicion. She never passed off her patients and the concern lining her face made me even more wary. Cindy was hiding something from me and I aimed to find out what.

  “Who are they bringing in, the Pope?” I joked.

  “No. A bunch of drunk frat boys decided to beat the shit out of some guy.”

  “Piece of cake. Let me drop these papers off to my patient in twelve and prep the trauma room,” I offered. “My guy in three is being admitted, and my woman from eight is down in x-ray. They’re so swamped, she won’t be back for another hour or so.”

  “I said I’d take the new guy.”

  Cindy’s tone was unusually short, and I shot her my best bitch, please look.

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized with a heavy sigh. “Just cover my patients, okay? I’ll take them back as soon as I can.”

  “Why do you suddenly think I’m not qualified to handle the patient coming in?” My voice held a bitter edge as I scowled at my bestie. “An hour ago, I was sopping up blood from a dude who’d nearly cut off his leg with a chain saw. I think I can handle a guy who’s been in a fight. Unless you question my abilities, in which case, I find your lack of confidence insulting”

  “It’s not that you can’t handle it, Liz. It’s that I don’t want you to.”

  “Why not?” I countered.

  She wrapped a gentle hand around my elbow. Her dark eyes swam in a pool of compassion. “Liz, you’re an amazing trauma nurse. I’ve never once questioned your skills. They’re impeccable. This isn’t about the job. It’s about you. I love you, and I don’t want you dealing with what’s coming through that door. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

  “No, we can’t. What is it you’re trying to protect me from? Christ, I’m thirty-one years old. I’ve been a nurse longer than most of the doctors on rotation here.”

  She exhaled a heavy sigh as a look of resignation settled over the delicate bones of her slender face. “The guy they’re bringing in is gay. He told the cops that a bunch of homophobic assholes beat him up. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

  My heart lurched to my throat. Swallowing tightly, I tried to detach my personal emotions from my professional duties. Digging deep, I squared my shoulders. “I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to coddle me. Just let me do my job, okay?”

  As I turned on my heel to walk away, Cindy gripped my arm tighter. “Liz, you’ve been through hell and back, after Dayne…” She closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

  “Killed himself? Yes, I know.” Simply saying the words brought a rush of anguish so bitter and hot, I clenched my jaw to keep from howling.

  “Take my patients. Please. Let me deal with the beating victim.”

  I shook my head. “No. I need to do this. I have to. For Dayne’s sake as well as my own.”

  Cindy frowned in defeat. “If the ghosts become too real, come find me. I’ll take over for you. Understood?”

  With a weak smile, I nodded. “Don’t worry. They won’t.”

  The double doors swung wide. “Bay one,” Cindy called out as the paramedics wheeled in a thin, young man covered in blood.

  As the trauma team raced into the room, Cindy and I ran in behind them. In a familiar and well-choreographed ballet, we moved around each other seamlessly, each knowing precisely what role we played.

  After easing the patient from the gurney to the bed, Dr. Reynolds and I began assessing the man’s injuries while two fellow nurses cut off his clothes. Cindy’s fingers flew over the keys of her tablet as a paramedic read from the run sheet. Multi-tasking, I continued my own evaluation while making note of the man’s vitals en route. Trying to stay focused on helping him, I noticed the patches of blonde hair—not covered in blood—were the same color of sun-bleached wheat as Dayne’s. So were the man’s aqua blue eyes.

  Don’t go there. This isn’t the time or place to be mourning Dayne.

  Running an IV, I took a new set of vitals, watching as Reynolds’s poked and prodded checking for internal injuries. The patient’s face was swollen and bloodied. He had a large contusion on his forehead and a deep laceration over his right eyeb
row. Blood oozed from his nose and lips, and he had a gash above his ear that looked to be about eight centimeters long. The chicken-shit bastards had tried to beat the poor guy to death by the looks of him.

  Doctor Reynolds pressed his fingers under the young man’s rib cage, causing him to scream in agony.

  “Hang in there, sweetheart,” I assured him in a calm voice. “We’re going to fix you up. Tell me your name.”

  “Ever,” he murmured.

  I gently lifted his top lip, split and bleeding to discover both his front teeth missing, as well as badly bleeding gums and a deep laceration on the side of his tongue. It was a wonder he hadn’t choked to death before the paramedics arrived.

  “Evan?” I asked, leaning in close.

  “Trevor,” he sobbed. “I want Daddy,”

  “You just relax, Trevor. We’ll call your dad as soon as we can, honey. My name is Liz and that’s Dr. Reynolds.” I nodded toward the physician wearing a scowl as he listened to Trevor’s chest. “What’s your last name, Trevor?”

  “Ham…mond,” he mumbled then sniffed.

  Coaxing as much medical history as I could from him, I jotted his answers on the bed sheet with a surgical marker. Concerned when he couldn’t remember his address or social security number, I suspected concussion, but thankfully he wasn’t throwing up or losing consciousness. Both a plus.

  “I know this isn’t the kind of party you planned for your Thursday night,” I teased, trying to put him at ease. “We’re going to give you an IV cocktail that will take the pain away just as soon as we can. Do you like tequila or vodka?”

  He tried to smile but winced instead. I gently patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you just lay back and relax and let us take care of you, okay?”

  Trevor gave a brave nod as he stared up at me with hauntingly familiar blue eyes.

  “You’re going to be just fine.” I forced a reassuring smile.

  Being unable to administer a narcotic to take the edge of his discomfort made my heart ache. But until the extent of his injuries had been determined, I couldn’t give him so much as an aspirin.

  “I want a fast scan of his belly and chest x-rays,” Reynolds ordered as I fit an oxygen mask over Trevor’s nose and mouth.

  Popping the stethoscope into my ears, I listened to his chest while another nurse slid a portable x-ray machine alongside Trevor’s bed. I knew his right lung had collapsed. Turning as the lab tech squeezed in next to me, finding a fat vein in Trevor’s arm, I began prepping a chest tube for the doctor.

  Reynolds held the finished chest x-ray up to the light, studying the black and white image. Narrowing my eyes, I could make out three broken ribs on the right and one on the left. Handing off the readied chest tube to the doctor, I issued an inward curse. Though Trevor needed the procedure, inflating a patient’s lung was horrifically painful. It seemed sadistic to make the poor man suffer more torture.

  “I’m going to fix you up so you can breathe better, son,” Dr. Reynolds announced. “There’ll be a sting and some pressure, but I’ll be quick.”

  Sting and pressure, my ass, I scoffed internally. Clasping Trevor’s hand in mine, I gave a gentle squeeze. As if sensing the procedure was going to hurt, he gripped my hand firmly and closed his eyes.

  Trevor issued a soft whimper as Reynolds made the initial incision. But when he pressed the large tube between the soft tissue of the rib cage, Trevor’s eyes flew open wide. A brutal cry of agony ripped from the back of his throat. He sucked in a huge gasp of air. I did as well, not realizing that I’d been holding my breath. Watching Trevor’s chest inflate and continue to rise and fall evenly, I bit back a sigh of relief.

  “It’s all over. You did good,” I praised, smoothing my fingers over an unbloodied patch of his hair. I watched as the tortured expression slowly melted from his face.

  “Daddy,” he whimpered.

  “Yes. Let’s try to reach your dad.”

  I glanced over my shoulder as Monica—the social worker whose job it was to notify next of kin—popped into the room as if she’d read my mind. Hurrying over to the bed, the short, round, fifty-something Hispanic woman’s brow furrowed as she regarded Trevor with compassion.

  “Who can I call for you, and let them know you’re here?”

  “Daddy,” Trevor moaned. “Call Daddy.”

  “What’s your father’s name and phone number?” Monica asked, pen and paper in hand.

  “Not my dad,” Trevor exhaled on a bleak sigh. “My Daddy.”

  Monica looked confused.

  “Is Daddy your life partner?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Ah.” Monica nodded in understanding. “What’s his phone number, honey?”

  Trevor paused a moment, then slowly slurred out the numbers. Monica jotted them down then hurried out of the room, to make the call.

  Nurses hovered, cleaning up Trevor’s wounds as the fast scan—an ultrasound—of his abdomen and spleen was administered. Dr. Reynolds studied the display screen as I helped sponge the blood from Trevor’s hands and face. He needed stitches in the gash over his eyebrow, but I was more concerned about the unhappy expression lining Reynolds’ face.

  “I don’t like the looks of that,” he announced, grimly. “There’s tissue disruption and blood around the spleen. I’ll call upstairs and order a CT. Make sure he gets up there as soon as his airway is stable.

  “Will do,” I replied.

  Monica breezed back into the room. A trace of anxiety reflected on her face. “Trevor, no one answered the number you gave me. Is there a different one I can reach Daddy at?”

  “No,” he replied miserably. “He… lef his phone ah house. We were habing dinner wiff Ika. Call M…Mika.”

  “What’s Mika’s number?” she asked patiently.

  “Dunno. Cell phone in pock’o my jeans.”

  Digging through the bag of Trevor’s shredded clothing, I plucked the device free. The screen was shattered. I couldn’t read anything beneath the web of fractured glass. Monica frowned in concern.

  “Your phone’s broken,” she said sympathetically. “What’s Mika’s last name? I’ll call directory assistance.”

  Trevor’s shoulders sagged. He looked defeated and drained…with good reason.

  “Jus call jeni sisss,” he whispered.

  “Jenny? You have a sister named Jenny?” I asked leaning in close.

  “No,” he moaned. “Cluv Genesis.”

  “Club Genesis?” Monica repeated.

  “Yeah.” With a weary nod, Trevor closed his eyes.

  “I’ll call right now,” she promised before scurrying out of the room, nearly colliding into another nurse, Judy, who seemed unusually frantic.

  “Dr. Reynolds? EMS just pulled up. We’ve got another one. Critical,” she announced.

  “Who dropped the ball and didn’t bother to tell us they were en route?” Reynolds barked. “For the love of… Give it to Glendale.”

  “He’s working a code blue two doors over,” Judy informed him.

  “Son of a bitch,” the doctor muttered under his breath.

  Ripping off his gloves, Reynolds angrily tossed them into the trash. Storming out of the room, he called over his shoulder, “Take this one up to CT stat and let me know the minute he comes back.”

  “Will do,” I assured, but the doctor was already gone.

  Noting Trevor’s blood pressure and oxygen saturation level, I felt confident his airway was stable. A second later Cindy darted back in.

  “CAT lab is ready,” she announced. “Is he good to go?”

  I nodded affirmatively before she helped me prep Trevor for transport. After they wheeled him out the door, I grabbed a cup of coffee at the nurses’ station as the last of my original patients walked out.

  Plopping into the chair next to Monica, she ended a call on her cell phone and picked up the landline at the desk. “Sorry, but I’ve had back-to-back calls from ICU,” she explained. “I’m just now calling the bar to try and find Trevor�
�s Daddy.”

  Nodding, I took a sip of coffee and nearly spit the bitter brew out. Wrinkling my nose, I tossed the cup in the trash as Monica punched in a phone number. Just then, her cell started to ring. With a groan she went to hang up the landline. Lifting the receiver from her hand, I motioned for her to take the call on her cell.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed as she stood and hurried out the door.

  Finally on the sixth ring, someone picked up at the bar.

  “Genesis. James speaking. Can I help you?”

  The man’s rich, buttery voice spilled like syrup down my spine. It was almost as if he’d caressed me with his hands. My stomach tightened, my pussy twitched, my heart rate quickened, and my nipples drew tight. Every neglected hormone in my body zipped to life. For a minute I thought Monica had mistakenly dialed 1-800-Studs-R-Us.

  It took a long moment for the man’s question to glide past my sexual impulses and register in my brain. Could he help me? Hell yes. If he fucked as good as he sounded, he could help me for days…weeks…months. Maybe even years. Biting back a moan, I cleared my throat, subduing my visceral reaction to his erotic voice.

  “Um, yes. Hello.”

  “Hello,” he repeated. I could hear the hint of amusement in his tone. “Is this your first time calling Genesis?”

  Huh? Why would he ask that? Aside from his strange question, I noticed there wasn’t any loud music or rowdy patrons yelling in the background.

  “As a matter of fact, it is. My name is Liz—”

  “You don’t have to use your real name, sweetheart. But since you probably just did, rest assured we grant total anonymity here.”

  Anonymity? For what?

  “Ah…okay.” I was growing more confused by the second. Frowning, I dismissed his strange behavior and focused on finding Trevor’s partner. “I’m an Emergency Room nurse at Highland Park Hospital. I’m calling for a young man by the name of Trevor Hammond. Do you know him?”

  “Yes. What’s happened to him? Where’s Drake? Is he with him?” James barked out his questions without giving me a chance to answer. That didn’t bother me. What did was the command in his tone, slicing with such potency I started to tremble.