He felt his jaw muscles grind his teeth together. The thought that they’d damaged that bright, spirited submissive so much that she’d fled the Shadowlands made him want to put his fist through the wall. True, he wanted only short-term relationships, but for the time during a scene, the submissive was his. And he—and Galen—had screwed up.

“I talked to Z after I spoke to her,” Dan said. “He’s feeling fucking guilty himself. Says he’ll hold off until after her commencement, but then they’ll have a long chat whether she likes it or not.”

Vance wasn’t sure he had that amount of patience. He and Galen had been the ones to screw up; he needed to make it right.

Or would seeing him just make everything worse for her?

Fuck.

* * * *

Sally took a long, very hot shower, scrubbing and shampooing to erase the stench of violent death. What an absolutely crummy day.

First, Dan had shown up in her department and asked why she’d dropped her Shadowlands membership. Despite what she’d thought was a perfectly fine answer, his expression said he knew she was bullshitting. He’d never looked at her that way before, as if he didn’t trust her to tell the truth. Like he really was a cop and she was a criminal.

But too bad. He didn’t have any right to question her; she wasn’t a trainee anymore.

Next week after graduation, she’d still go see Kari. Their place was just a nice walk away, in the residential section. But she’d make really sure Dan wasn’t home.

Right after he’d left, the crime scene guys had asked for her help on scene at a homicide. The victim had an intricate computer setup that needed to be dismantled and taken back to the station. Honestly, when she’d first thought about getting into the field of digital forensics, she’d assumed the computers or drives or memory sticks would be delivered to her at the police station. Her plans hadn’t included working in a room where there were dead bodies. And blood. Everywhere.

Just the memory had her stomach doing an I’m-going-to-puke dance. After a few deep breaths, she dried off and pulled on her favorite dark red silky pajamas, then her fluffy blue robe. The ankle-length, shabby garment was her comfort garment, and she needed it this evening. Her tiny apartment seemed far too empty.

Then again, empty was better than sharing with a jerk. Kicking Frank out had been a most excellent decision.

I wish I had someone, though. Even a pet.

With an effort, she pushed away the memory of Vance’s arms around her, of Galen stroking her hair. Such assholes. They’d ruined the scene with stupid questions…and now they were ruining her evening by making her crave them. She scowled and tried to forget how they’d paid attention to…everything.

To her.

She shook herself. Get over it.

In the main room of her apartment, she hesitated. Normally, she’d jump into World of Warcraft and do some fighting. Vanquish evil. Assuming she didn’t get slaughtered, she’d return to real-time victorious. Having saved the town or whatever, she’d be a heroine, which was the best feeling in the world.

But not today. No blood. No death today.

Instead, she brewed a pot of chamomile tea and settled into a corner of the couch with her Kindle. On the screen saver was a boring picture of some author. Maybe she’d put a cute kitten there instead. And hack into the software and set up a routine so the kitten would meow at the device’s startup. A virtual pet would be better than no pet.

Slowly, the sounds of her apartment settled around her. The hum of the old refrigerator in the opposite corner, the drip of the faucet in the bathroom. From the apartment above drifted classical music. Beethoven. Rather sedate, but easier on the ears than the acid metal the previous tenant had enjoyed. The thin walls meant she could hear Joanna’s cranky baby on one side and the chugging of Harvey’s dishwasher on the other. Wasn’t it strange how the sounds could be annoying one day and so very reassuring the next?

She sighed. The last time she’d walked over to Dan’s house, she’d played with baby Zane while Kari cleaned up the kitchen. The rattle of dishes had reminded her so much of Mama that the surge of homesickness had almost laid her flat. After her mother had died, that feeling of…safety?…love?…had disappeared forever.

Sipping her tea, she pulled up a nice historical romance to read. Tomorrow, she could worry about the two job offers she’d received and go through another set of the ugly Harvest Association e-mails. Tonight, she’d keep herself firmly in a fictional past. With a happy yawn, she settled in to read.

“Sally.”

The voice percolated through her dreams, and she blinked. Geez, she’d totally fallen asleep. Lifting her head, she saw her e-reader had fallen to the floor. Above the television, the wall clock read just before eleven at night. She pushed her hair out of her face as she sat up and froze.

Frank stood at the other end of the couch, staring down at her.

“What are you doing here?” Annoyance burned away her grogginess. She rose to her feet. “How did you get in?”

“Made a spare.” He tauntingly waggled a key before shoving it in his jeans pocket. “I need to talk to you.”

My life sucks. “It’s late, Frank. Give my key back and go home.” She stopped in front of him and held her hand out.

He shoved her away and stomped toward the tiny kitchenette in the far corner. “You got anything to drink?”

“Hey!” Had she really thought his pushy attitude was sexy? “There’s nothing we have to talk about. We’re over. And I’m tired.” She opened the apartment door and made a shooing motion.

His face turned a dusky red. “Get your ass over here, bitch.”

God, being infatuated had sure blinded her. How could she ever have let him talk to her like that? Let him treat her like dirt? Master Z would be so disappointed she couldn’t tell the difference between a caring Dom and a nasty control freak. Well, better late than never. “No. Just leave, dammit.”

Moving faster than she expected, he grabbed her hair, yanked her out of the doorway, and kicked the door shut behind him.

She scratched his face with her nails, pulled in a breath to scream, and he backhanded her across the face.

As pain burst in her cheek, tears flooded her eyes, blurring the room. Shock held her immobile.

“Now that I have your attention…” The sloppy smirk on his face gave him away. He’d been drinking. He shoved her toward the couch.

Her insides tightened. Frank was a mean drunk. During their negotiations before he moved in, she’d made him agree that if he drank, he’d stay somewhere else for the night. She hadn’t thought alcohol would become a problem…but then he’d lost his job.

She touched her burning cheek and felt liquid. Blood. The skin had been torn by his ring.

Her heart started to hammer. Okay, smarty, how do you get out of this? Gritting her teeth, she shoved her emotions down, a talent she’d mastered as a child and never lost. Men didn’t want an emotional woman, no matter what those stupid Feebs said. “What did you want to say to me?” she asked politely.

And why the hell didn’t she have something useful like a baseball bat or stun gun in her living room. Definitely shortsighted.

“There. That’s my sunny girl.” He smiled at her, proud he’d made her do what he wanted.

And he had. Could she hit him with the lamp? No, the cord would slow her down. Her cell phone was in her purse.

“Stay there.” As he headed for the kitchenette, he bumped into the armchair—and that set him off again.

Sally winced as he kicked the chair across the room. “Stop it!”

He didn’t even seem to hear her. The coffee table followed and hit the wall with a crunch. One leg broke. Beside the couch, her cup lay on the carpet next to her Kindle. Frank glared at the e-reader. “That thing. Always more important than me.” He lifted his foot to stomp on it.

Not my books! “No!” She shoved him away.

Losing his balance, he staggered sideways and tripped over the overturned coffee table. His landing shook the floor.

Oh shit.

With her foot, she slid her Kindle under the couch. “Frank, you need to leave before you get in all sorts of trouble. Remember where I work?”

He sat up. “You hit your Master.”

Her father had turned that purple color when enraged, but he’d never hurt her. Much. Frank, however… Fear slid cold ice into her belly, but living with her father and brother had also taught her—never show fear. Her voice came out level. “I’m sorry, but you’re not my Master any more. Remember?”

Ominously silent, he pushed to his feet. He stood between her and the door, blocking her escape. “You need to learn. Need to learn…”

She retreated. Not much choice. He was a foot taller and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. Why the hell hadn’t she picked self-defense for one of her electives?

A grizzly bear in a black T-shirt, he lumbered toward her, leaving destruction in his wake. The pictures on the television stand, candlesticks…each item that she’d saved up to buy, carefully chosen.

He’d break her next.

Not enough space to get past him to the door. No chance to get to her phone. Her heart pounded wildly, trying to escape the cage of her ribs. She’d misjudged—he wouldn’t stop until he hurt her. She had neighbors. Maybe…