The munchie table in the front corner was stocked with water, soft drinks, and finger foods. Master Z said having food available was not only healthy but also encouraged the community spirit of the dungeon, which was why the corner also had tables and chairs. The scenes were far enough away that people could talk without disturbing anyone.

Sally picked up a bottled water, cast her gaze over the table spread, and yo baby, there were quiche bites. God, she loved those. Just a few though, girl. Eat or drink too much and she’d totally regret it if the guys went for a heavy scene.

She was on her second bite when a couple of the younger Doms approached—although she probably shouldn’t call them younger. They were her age, after all. But after being with the Feds, these two seemed…unfinished.

“Hey, Sally. Long time no see.” Carter was tall and lanky. His glasses flashed in the light from the wall sconces.

“Hi, Carter.”

Like Vance, Donald was football-player-sized. He moved a step too close, looked down at her, and the derisive twist of his lips made her uncomfortable. “Guess you wanted time off after your faking-it performances. Did you come back to give everyone another shot at getting you off?”

She straightened, anger flaming through her veins. Yes, she’d fooled him. Now she had to wonder why she’d ever agreed to play with him at all. “No, there won’t be another shot.”

His sneer was ugly, and he’d obviously taken her words as an insult.

Smart boy.

“Bet I can get Cullen to let me scene with you, trainee.”

“I’m not—”

“This submissive is not a trainee. She’s mine.” A hand curled around her arm, pulling her away from the two men, and Sally looked up to see Vance. His blue eyes had turned the color of gunmetal—hard and cold and deadly.

The startled look on Donald’s face was—Sally bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snickering—wonderful. “Uh. Sorry. We didn’t know.”

“Now you do.”

Sally’s moment of pleasure lasted only a few seconds until Vance dragged her away from the quiche bites. “Wait. I wanted—”

“Disobedient submissives don’t get their wants met.” He stopped beside the bar and saw that Dan had replaced Master Cullen as the bartender.

Dan smiled at Sally, his eyebrows lifting at Vance’s grip on her arm. “Got yourself in trouble, sweetheart?”

“I—”

“She did,” Vance said, interrupting her with a stern look.

He hadn’t given her permission to speak. Got it. Maybe she’d let him get away with the restriction, considering he’d just rescued her from asshole Donald.

Vance asked Dan, “Z still have collars in the spares basket.”

“A collar? For Sally?” Master Dan’s brows drew together as if he didn’t approve. After a pause, he moved down the bar and pulled a laundry-sized basket from the bottom shelf. “Here you go.” He set it on the bar.

Still holding Sally as if she’d run away, Vance poked through the items before pulling out a dark red collar. “This should work.” He fastened it around her neck.

And as he fastened the buckle, as she felt the encompassing touch of the leather, her heart started to hammer. A few Doms had collared her as part of their idea of a scene, but she’d never felt like this. Like the collar was pulling her toward him, like his intense eyes were seeing past the leather and past her skin, like his hands were tying a leash on her soul. She could feel the tug of the attachment deep inside her. “Vance,” she whispered, unable to look away from his hard face, his high, wide cheekbones, the jut of his strong chin.

He cupped her chin. “Look at you,” he said softly, and the feeling of being possessed engulfed her.

As he straightened, he released her. “I like the way you look in a collar, sweetie. I think we’ll put one on you every time we’re here—and you can consider yourself collared by Galen and me until we take it off.”

Words like that shouldn’t make her heart feel as if it were break dancing inside her chest.

His lips turned up. “Silence from our little subbie? Do you understand, Sally?”

She swallowed. “I understand.” Her voice came out so hoarse that he ran his finger around the inside of the collar again, checking to be sure it wasn’t too tight. But it wasn’t the collar that was choking her. It was the way her heart was pushing at her throat, as if it wanted out. Wanted to give itself away.

When had he become so…so important to her? So dear. God, she was such an idiot. He’d collared her for an evening; she wanted more.

“Sally, what’s wrong?” He touched her cheek as his eyebrows pulled together.

No, don’t be a fool. Players, the both of them. But they’d never stayed with a submissive this long. So…what did that mean? “I— Nothing.” She forced her mouth to curve into a smile. “Thanks for keeping the other Doms away.”

“My pleasure.” He gave her another long look, making her want to drop to her knees and beg him to keep her. To love her.

Sally, you’re a disgrace to your gender. “I should be fine now.”

“Let’s just make sure of that.” He picked a leash—a damned leash!—out of the basket and clipped it to her collar.

Love him? She’d rather kick him right in his pride and joys.

He led her around the bar to the area where the subs liked to hang out. Sure enough, there were a few there now, including Gabi and one of the trainees—Maxie. If Gabi was in the subbie area, Master Marcus must be around somewhere. He didn’t let her come to the Shadowlands without him. Maxie was probably taking a break and figuring out who she wanted to play with. The pretty blonde was totally sweet, although a bit on the insecure side, always trying to disguise what she called her fat ass.

“Ladies,” Vance greeted them politely. “Sit, Sally.”

She settled herself, and he picked up a chain from the floor beside the chair. One end of the chain was attached to an eyebolt in the floor; he secured the other to her collar. When in grade school, a 4-H friend had a pet goat that she’d tie up in the backyard. Yeah. Would Vance notice if she baaaed at him? She scowled at him instead.

“You have the prettiest face, even if you try to look upset.” He tucked one finger under her collar to hold her as he kissed her. Softly, then completely aggressive. He tilted his head and took it deeper. Taking until her scowl melted, until her bones melted. Until her heart melted. Demon Dom.

Finished, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Stay put. Right here. If you unclip that chain, I’ll paddle your ass—and not in a fun way.”

She hadn’t forgotten the sting of the wood or the unhappiness of disappointing him. “Yes, Sir.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds nice,” he murmured, running a finger over her wet lips before he strode away. Back to his DM duties, leaving her stuck in subbie-land. Well, at least the company was good.

“Stay put?” Gabi was giggling. “Miss Mouthy Sally gets an order like that and says, ‘Yes, Sir’? Oh. My. God.”

Maxie fanned her face. “I think it was totally hot.”

“You’re both right,” Sally muttered, unable to keep from glancing over her shoulder at her Dom. She even liked the way he walked. Not graceful. Not aggressive, but…powerful. Darn football player with that linebacker’s confidence of knowing he could flatten anyone in his path. People picked up on it and cleared out of his way. With a sigh, she turned back to the women.

“I wish I could find someone with that confidence. And authority. Some authority would definitely be nice.” Maxie pouted. “In my last scene, the guy asked every two minutes if I liked what he was doing. ‘Are you sure that’s okay, Maxie? Not too tight?’ He must have flunked out of Dom school. Seriously.”

“Don’t you hate that? When you give them the right to command, and they don’t?” Sally shook her head. “Would you believe one man put nipple clamps on me…and the second I squawked, he took them right off. No Dom cookies for that wussy.”

But her Feds…her majorly dominating Feds would earn an entire box of chocolate chip cookies.

“Oh man, I think I did a scene with that wimp. Totally forgettable.” Maxie slouched back on the leather couch. “Last month, Master Sam put clamps on me. When I whimpered, his eyes lit up, and he tightened them until I was up on tiptoes.” She gave a happy sigh. “There’s no one like a Master.”

“Well, even the Masters have weak moments.” Gabi toyed with the blue streak in her shaggy red hair. “Marcus actually brought me breakfast in bed last weekend.”

Sally considered. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“I guess.” Gabi shrugged. “But I was in a bitchy mood; I told him he was a failure as a Dom. A disgrace to the world of masterly men.”

Maxie’s eyes almost bugged out of her head. “No!”

Sally shook her head. Knowing Master Marcus, he’d probably laughed and—

“He spanked me so hard I had to eat breakfast standing up. I almost threw the eggs at him, but”—Gabi grinned—“even bratty submissives know there’s a time to stop. And that’s the wonderful part about it all.”