“You’re awfully quiet, Michael. Did the demonstration freak you out?” Charlotte could usually read his facial expressions and body language, but as they walked through the club, she wasn’t sure what was going through his mind.

He glanced at her and shook his head. “No, actually it didn’t—and that surprises me. I’m still not sure I could stand there and let you whip me, but it was amazing to watch. How long did it take you to learn how to do that without breaking the skin? Logan mentioned practice paper.”

“Mm-hmm. You tape a piece of paper to a wall or a cross, and that simulates the sub’s skin. If it tears, you’ve injured your sub. As for how long it took for me to be able to get through a whole scene without ripping the paper, it was a little longer than eighteen months. I will confess that the first time I did with a live person—who happened to be my instructor—I was so nervous I almost threw up beforehand. But I managed to get through the scene without sending him to the emergency room. I still practice with paper a few times a week. It’s one of those things that if you don’t keep up your skills, they’ll fail.”

They passed by the bar area. While it was closed, there were two couples standing there, chatting with the club’s co-owner Mitch Sawyer and Travis “Tiny” Daultry, who was the head of security for the club and the Trident compound. Some of the students had stayed behind to watch two of Stefan’s Shibari Masters-in-training practice their techniques.

It had been almost an hour since Logan had hit subspace after Charlotte had taken the whip to his back. She’d expertly left dozens of red welts on his skin before his knees had given out. Stefan and Dakota had helped her release Logan’s restraints and move him onto a bed in one of the garden’s cabanas. Dakota had applied Arnica gel to each stripe on her Dom’s back while Charlotte had monitored his breathing and mental status. Once she was convinced he was stable and the only thing he needed for the completion of his aftercare was rest, she’d left him with Dakota, sound asleep. Usually, Charlotte would monitor a person she’d whipped longer, but Stefan had assured her he’d remain nearby in the garden in case Dakota needed him. He wouldn’t be more than a few feet from the cabana, while observing his students. Once Logan woke up, Dakota would then drive him home.

When they reached the lobby door, Mike held it open for Charlotte then followed her through. They’d planned to stop by the pub for dinner, so Mike could also check in with his staff. “Well, I hadn’t expected to find it as fascinating as I did. I don’t know if that had anything to do with the beautiful Domme cracking the whip, but I’m pretty sure it did.”

A smile spread across her face at his flirtation. It was taking him a while to relax into their relationship, and his teasing told her he was becoming more comfortable with her. “Why, thank you, Michael.”

“You’re welcome, Ma’am,” he responded with a grin. He pushed open the door leading to the outside stairs above the parking lot and, again, let her walk through first—the perfect gentleman.

They were almost to the bottom of the stairs when angry shouting caught their attention. Charlotte scanned the vehicles in the parking lot until she spotted the source. Master Roy had his submissive by the upper arm and was cursing at her as he dragged her toward his truck.

“Let go of me!” Susan screamed, fighting to get loose. Her free hand was swinging at him, and she tried to kick him, but the five-foot-nothing woman was at a huge disadvantage against the six-foot man. “You’re hurting me!”

“Get the fuck in the truck! We’re outta here.”

Before Charlotte could do or say anything, Mike was sprinting across the parking lot. She took off after him, glancing around. Damn it! Where are the guards when you need them? She didn’t doubt Mike could handle himself if it came to fisticuffs, but if Roy had a weapon on him, Charlotte wasn’t sure what would happen. The compound’s guard shack had been moved closer to the main road after the fence line had been extended outward to keep the media and lookie-loos from getting pictures of the club members. A vindictive ex of two Masters had violated The Covenant’s non-disclosure agreement and had paid for it in several lawsuits. And after the Trident guys and their significant others had ended up as targets for one reason or another over the past two years, Ian and Devon had beefed up their security measures even further. There were armed guards roaming the compound, and several dogs were in training to work with them. But the compound had also doubled in size as the Sawyers continued to buy up the acreage surrounding it.

When Mike reached the couple, he got between them and shoved Roy back, forcing the bastard to break his hold on Susan. Then, so Roy couldn’t reach for her again, Mike tucked her behind him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Back off, subbie,” Roy said with a snarl, stressing the last word like it was something that repulsed him. “This is none of your fucking business!”

Charlotte reached the trio and grabbed Susan’s shoulders, pulling her further away. If the two men started exchanging blows, she didn’t want the woman to get hurt.

With his fists clenched at his side, Mike took a step forward. “I’m making it my business, jackass! I hate dirtbags who abuse women!”

Rage flared in Roy’s eyes, and he took a swing at him, but Mike was faster. Dodging right, he avoided the punch before unleashing one of his own, connecting with the other man’s cheek. Roy went down like a fallen tree, twisting and landing face down as Charlotte heard footsteps rapidly approaching. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Mitch and Tiny running toward them, with Master Wayne and his sub, Nancy, on their heels. The club owner and head of security both slid to a halt and stared in amusement at the aftermath of the one-two match.

Tiny barked out a laugh. “Damn, Mike, nice right jab. I’m gonna tell Jake to stop taking it easy on you when you spar with him.”

Shaking his bruised hand, Mike snorted. “Don’t you dare—not until I get a chance to catch him off guard. Shit, that hurt.” He turned toward the others, his gaze seeking out Susan. Seeing her rubbing her bruised arm, he asked, “Are you okay?”

The dark-haired woman nodded. “Y-Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realize what an asshole he was until today. I told him I wanted out of our contract and that’s when he grabbed me and started yelling. I might be a submissive, but I’ll be damned if I let any guy abuse me.”

Charlotte’s arm was still around Susan’s shoulder in comfort, but it was clear the sub would be okay—she had spunk. Giving her a final squeeze, Charlotte released her.

Her anger ebbing but still present, the Domme’s annoyed gaze met Wayne’s, and the man brought his hand up in self-defense. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t like the guy from the start. The only reason I said more than two words to him was because Nancy and Susan are best friends.”

“It’s true,” Susan confirmed. “We met Roy at a munch. He said he was experienced in the lifestyle and offered to introduce me to it. He was nice in the beginning, but I know now it was all a front.”

From where he lay on the ground, Roy groaned. Standing over the semi-conscious man, Mitch glanced at Wayne. “Can you drive Susan home, please? Roy will be on his way after he understands he’s never to contact her again. I’ll also make sure he’s banned from every lifestyle club within a hundred-mile radius.”

There was no doubt Mitch would make that happen. He and his two cousins were some of the most responsible Doms Charlotte had ever known. They despised people who hid behind the veil of the BDSM community as an excuse to abuse others just as much as she did. When they’d first opened The Covenant several years ago, they’d instituted a network for the club owners and managers to be able to pass on information to each other easily. It had started with the Tampa Bay area lifestyle establishments, but word had spread and the owners and managers around the country had expressed a desire to be a part of it. There was a rather long list of people who’d been banned for one reason or another, and Mitch always followed up with new entries to make sure there was a valid reason for the expulsion. The members of the BDSM community tended to be close-knit, and valued their privacy and safety. It grated on most Doms if a sub was harmed in any way, even if they didn’t know them. The Dominants of the community tended to feel the need to protect them all.

“Susan,” Mitch continued. “Since Master Wayne and Nancy have applied for membership here, if you’d still like to explore the lifestyle, I can pair you up with one of our single Doms for training. I’ll help you negotiate a contract to include or exclude anything you want. You’ll have to go through the club’s vetting process like everyone else, but once that’s done, you’ll be able to play.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Um . . . thanks, Master Mitch, but I couldn’t afford the membership fees here and—”

He raised his hand and cut her off. “We can work something out, little one. We have several subs who work off most of their membership fees by waiting tables, cleaning, or working in the shop. And we’re going to be putting in a child care area soon, so we’ll be looking to fill some positions there too. Again, it’s up to you.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed her a business card. “Think about it, and call me if your answer is yes or if you want to discuss it further.”

“Thank you, Master Mitch. I appreciate it.” Holding the card, Susan glanced down and realized she was missing something. “Um, my purse is in Roy’s truck. He’s got the keys in his front, right pocket, I think.”

Tiny unceremoniously rolled Roy onto his back and fished into his pocket. Pulling out the keys, he hit the button to unlock the doors of the nearby vehicle. Susan quickly retrieved her purse, then slammed the passenger door shut again with a little more force than necessary, causing Charlotte to grin. As the sub passed by Mike, she put her hand on his arm. “Thank you, again.” Going up on her tiptoes, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

A blush bloomed across his face. “You’re welcome. Stay safe.”

“I will.” After one last look of disgust in Roy’s direction, she left with Wayne and Nancy.

Tiny looked at Mitch. “What do want me to do with him?”

Glancing at the injured man, who was slowly coming around, the club owner seemed to think it over for a moment before answering. “Unfortunately, what I want to do with him differs from what we should do with him—let’s get his ass up and have a little chat.”

Striding over to his own vehicle, Mitch unlocked the trunk, and retrieved several sixteen-ounce bottles of water. He tossed one to Tiny, and the two of them opened the bottles and poured them onto Roy’s face. The man sat up, groaning and sputtering. “What? What the fuck! Knock it off!”

Reaching down, Tiny grabbed him by the front of his wet shirt and hauled his ass up—an easy feat for the six-foot-eight, former professional football player. When Roy tried to free himself, Tiny growled, which caused the shorter man’s eyes to go wide, and the rest of his body to freeze as if he suddenly realized he was in deep shit. Tiny got right in Roy’s face and laid out the facts. “You’re not going anywhere until we have a little chat. Your only other option is I tie you to a cross and let Mistress China whip your ass—I’m sure she’ll take that offer in a heartbeat. Now, unless you want to lose a few layers of skin, I suggest you and I take a little walk. I think someone needs to educate you about how to treat a lady, and I’m volunteering to be your teacher.”

Charlotte did her best to keep a glare in place—instead of laughing out loud—when a panicked expression spread across Roy’s face and the color drained from his cheeks at Tiny’s not-so-subtle threat. After a moment, he nodded, and Tiny led him away from the remaining group, his big paw of a hand tightly gripping the other man’s shoulder. Mitch called out after them, “Just don’t feed him to B.D.S.M., big guy! You know Kat has them on a strict diet!”

The protection dogs Boomer’s wife, Kat, was training for the compound had been dubbed B.D.S.M. by Ian—Bravo, Delta, Sierra, and Mike, using the military radio alphabet. Charlotte knew her Mike had gotten a chuckle out of hearing there was a kick-ass German Shepard with his name.

With his unoccupied hand, Tiny waved over his shoulder as he began to explain the rules of good etiquette, and the result of breaking those rules, to Roy.

Confident everything would be taken care of, Charlotte and Mike said goodbye to Mitch before walking over to Mike’s vehicle. He opened the passenger door for her and, after she climbed in, shut it and strode around to the driver’s side. After he settled into his seat, he started the engine and turned on the AC to cool off the interior. But then his hand froze on the gear shift as he stared out the windshield. “Are you mad at me?”

Startled by his question and the nervous way it was spoken, Charlotte shifted in her seat to face him and studied the hard set of his jaw. She wasn’t sure where he’d gotten the idea she was mad at him, and needed to set things straight immediately. “Michael, look at me, please.” Swallowing hard, he turned his head. Charlotte reached up and cupped his cheek. “Mad is the last thing I feel right now. I’m proud of you for rescuing Susan, and I know punching Roy was necessary after he swung at you. I didn’t expect anything less from you. Yes, I’m not a fan of violence but I’m also aware that sometimes it’s unavoidable.” The tension left his jaw and shoulders. Grinning, she trailed her hand down his face, neck, chest, and lower, her gaze never leaving his eyes. The uncertainty she saw there was replaced with lust as her hand drifted over his groin. “If anything, seeing you going all Rocky Balboa on him kinda makes me want to jump your bones. Are you okay with ordering takeout?”

Throwing the shifter in gear, he winked at her. “Takeout? To hell with that. Delivery’s better. Your place or mine, Mistress?”