Then he smiled. “Welcome back to the Shadowlands, Gabrielle. Stand yourself up now.”

Feeling gawky after the smooth grace of the others, she scrambled to her feet and imitated the stance they’d taken. Feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind her back, straight posture, chin up. Sir, yes, Sir. But as his razor-sharp gaze scrutinized her body, she flushed and her nipples contracted into peaks, thankfully concealed by her vest. Surely that wasn’t supposed to happen in boot camp.

“You look very nice,” he said in his deep, molasses-slow voice, and his approval made her feel as if she’d gotten a gold star on her spelling paper. Of course, she deserved a gold star for her attire. She’d gone for a barbaric appearance with a laced-up leather vest and matching short leather skirt. Knowing she’d be barefoot, she’d painted her toenails a garish red. Temporary tattoos of swords and thorns circled her upper arms.

He ran his hand over one tattoo, and his eyebrows quirked. As his calloused palm continued down her arm, her knees weakened. How could a man’s touch—just his damned touch—mess with her like this?

His gaze intent on her face, he lifted her hand and nibbled her fingers.

When her toes curled, he smiled slowly. “Tonight you’ll waitress on the dance side of the room. Remember, you may not play with anyone without my permission, but you’re encouraged to stop and talk.” His bourbon-smooth voice spiraled around the top of her spine and slid straight down to her groin like a sip of hundred-proof sex. “With all the instructions you had last night, I’m not sure I explained this well. Master Z could easily hire waiters, but serving drinks means you meet the doms without the pressure of finding something to say. Make sense, sugar?”

He paused. Unfortunately she wasn’t here to meet doms, except for one kidnapper. “Yes, Sir.”

“Then off you go.”

Midway through the night, Gabi’s skin had started feeling too small for her body. Serving drinks should have bored her. But the doms flirted with her. Touched her in a way that would get them tossed out of a normal bar, often caressing the bare strip of skin between her vest and skirt. One even wrapped a big hand around her thigh as he talked to her. Always polite, yet making it clear they might someday ask permission for her…company.

As she wandered across the Shadowlands with another set of drinks, the music from the corner dance area throbbed against her with an almost sexual rhythm, punctuated by shrieks and moans from the scenes around the room’s perimeter. A lot of the screams came from where Master Sam of the orange-flavored condom was whipping a submissive at the chain station. His nasty-looking, short black whip left long red marks on the woman’s tanned skin.

Gabi edged closer and cringed at how each pause between strokes seemed calculated to cause the most pain.

The sub screamed again, the sound higher than before. Sam stopped and talked to her, stroked her hair, and checked the chains and cuffs holding her arms over her head. When the sub mumbled something and smiled, Sam chuckled, kissed her lightly, walked back to his place…and resumed.

Resumed. God, it was terrifying to watch. I so don’t like pain. Yet the bond between Master Sam and his sub grew as he continued until it was almost visible. He focused on her response to each blow so thoroughly the building could have fallen down without him noticing. That kind of attention was…compelling. Exciting.

Nonetheless, each crack of the whip made her flinch. No whippings for me, thank you very much. In fact, she really, really hoped to play the brat without getting any painful punishments.

At the bar, Master Cullen took her tray, a smile on his craggy face. “You’ve done well, pet, and your serving duties are over. You’re to join Master Marcus now.”

“Oh. Okay.” She saw his raised eyebrows and amended, “Yes, Sir.” Join Marcus. As she remembered her dream from last night and where Marcus’s hands…and mouth…had been, heat ran through her. She licked her lips. What would he do today? Would he play with her in a scene? Her insides melted like ice cream on a summer afternoon.

A second later, the excitement faded away, leaving her cold inside. She wasn’t here to have fun. On the contrary, she was here to get noticed…somehow…and she hadn’t succeeded very well so far. Although she’d sassed the members, a bratty waitress didn’t get much notice. She needed to be obnoxious in a dom-sub scene, which meant she’d have to defy Marcus. She pressed a hand over the nauseating knot forming in her stomach.

The huge bartender leaned a thick forearm on the bar top. “Little sub, you look worried about something. Is your problem with Master Marcus?”

“No, Sir.” But I’m going to be his problem shortly. “Not at all.”

Master Cullen studied her face for a second. “Then talk to him about it, love. That’s what he’s here for.”

“Yes, Sir.” She hurried away, unable to insult him after his concern for her. Only she should have been rude anyway. Get over being a nice person, Gabi.

As she searched the room for Marcus, she stayed alert for anyone who acted too interested in her—although the kidnapper probably didn’t wear a sign saying BAD GUY, and as a new trainee, she attracted attention from everyone.

She eventually found Marcus watching a scene at the stocks. A male submissive was bent forward with his hands and head secured. His domme wore a strap-on cock and thrust it into his ass as vigorously as any man Gabi had ever seen. Gabi gulped and took a step back. That looked just strange. Fascinating but strange.

Although the sub’s moans sounded as if he were dying, his eyes glowed bright with excitement, and his jutting cock seemed ready to burst. “Please, Mistress,” he begged. “Please let me come.”

Poor guy.

Gabi turned her attention to Marcus. He stood so relaxed, yet had an aura of owning the space around him. Somehow he never seemed off balance, and she never seemed to find hers. With a sigh, she joined him.

He smiled down at her and ran a finger along her jawline, sending every nerve into “gimme more” entreaties. “You’re doing well, sugar. Although I hear you’re a tad sassy, the members think you’re a wonderful addition to the trainees.”

Great, how was she supposed to be a hard-ass when that ass wanted to melt right into a puddle? “Thank you, Sir.” Then the meaning of what he’d said registered—all her work and they only considered her sassy? Not disobedient? Not disrespectful? Hell.

“Now rest here a spell and give me your impressions of the scenes you witnessed this evening.”

“Um. Okay.” She nodded to the strap-on scene. “I can see he’s enjoying himself, but a guy begging doesn’t do anything for me.”

A corner of Marcus’s mouth tipped up. “No,” he murmured, “I reckon you’re definitely a submissive.”

Submissive. The way he said the word sounded like a caress, but somehow in this place, it was a lot more frightening to admit to. In bondage games before, she’d never given up anything except mobility. Here…just the look in Master Marcus’s eyes made her breath stop—the look that said he’d demand more of her than just her physical freedom. The thought was exciting…and terrifying.

When she instinctively edged away, he curled his hand around her nape and moved her back. The warmth of his palm spread outward until her skin burned. “Continue, Gabrielle.”

She wet her dry lips and forged ahead. “Well, watching Master Sam whipping someone bothered me. The whip, the pain made me want to crawl under a table and hide.”

Marcus chuckled. “Good to know. Sounds like there was something that attracted you?”

The dom could give lessons in observation. “I… The interaction between them? I can’t describe it.” She’d felt that kind of encompassing…communication…just once. Her first time in a club, an older dom, and a short scene. And she’d never found anything close again. Until now.

Marcus’s eyes softened. “That’s the heart of a scene. Very good. Go on.”

“Um. The two girls and one guy… I’d have enjoyed it better without the extra girl.”

He laughed. And waited.

She tried to retreat again, but his hand still held her in place. This sharing of…private feelings…the more she did, the more uncomfortable it was. She’d told him about the scenes that hadn’t affected her much, but now…

His thumb stroked the hollow at the base of her skull, giving her goose bumps. “What’s wrong, sugar?”

“I…I don’t know you. And talking about this stuff is too personal. Answering your questions yesterday was bad enough.” But now he wanted to dig into her fantasies, dammit.

His hand still curled around her neck, he turned her to face him more fully. The crinkle of the sun lines said he understood, but the set of his jaw said he wouldn’t relent. “You’re correct. This isn’t a normal dom-sub relationship, and someday I hope you will have a real one. For now, I am responsible not only to watch over you, to teach you, to help you find a good dom…but also to see to your needs.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You… I don’t have needs. I mean, I’m just here—”