Jaden is gone when I wake. No note, no goodbye. Gone. A world-class jerk just like all the others—screw them and leave them, that’s their motto.

What came over me last night? Something about Jaden snuck past my defenses when I saw him all beat up and miserable. When I felt his sorrow and pent-up rage. Something that told me he needed to forget whatever happened when he rescued Sasha. There was one way I could help him forget, return the favor for him rescuing me. At least that’s what I told myself.

I refuse to admit my heart did a hop, skip, and two jumps when I saw him. Nope, I didn’t want to take him in my arms and make the hurt go away. I was willing to sacrifice myself for purely unselfish reasons. Such a drama queen.

When he paid homage to my breasts, he pulled something out of me. He didn’t tell me they were too small. He didn’t ignore them. He played with them as if they were precious gifts and released a desire buried in the sarcophagus of my soul. When he pulled my arms over my head, something in me snapped free. He took charge, leaving me free to experience the new sensations running through my girly bits. And our Jaden is no thirty-second wonder.

Jaden worked his massive member inside me for what seemed like eons. The initial pain as he stretched me wide—split me apart, as he joked—turned to intense pleasure under his expert moves and incredible stamina. He was rough, each thrust deeper than the first. He was brutal, and I loved every minute. When he eventually came, he arched above me for several minutes before collapsing on my chest. Even then, he held most of his weight in his arms.

I let a tiny bubble of pride surface to consciousness: I had taken his pain away, at least for a few hours.

I don’t want to admit it, but I want more. I like him holding me down. I cringe as I have the thought. How could I vow never to let anyone try to control me or my life and then turn around and beg Jaden to take control? And there’s the moral part of things—am I one of those “nymphos” like ES said?

There really is something deeply wrong with me. The thought depresses me, so I lock it away in the special box I have for disturbing thoughts. The problem is, it’s like a jack-in-the-box, and the thought will bounce back out at some inopportune time.

And how the hell am I supposed to act around Jaden now? Should I act like a lover? Should I kiss him when I see him? We’ve never kissed, so that’s probably a bad idea. Better to act like nothing happened unless he gives some other clue. Will he try to kiss me? Does he even like me? Probably not. I’m just a warm body, a notch up from the awful things men joke about having sex with. I’m probably not even his type.

When I’ve had enough of this wee pity party, I wash and slip on my new leggings and tunic. I model in front of the mirror, turning this way and that. A pair of jazzy ankle boots completes the look. I have to admit that I do feel sexy in the new clothes.

I’m wondering what to do next when the phone rings.

“Hello?” I surge with hope. Please let it be Jaden.

“Hi, Rayne. It’s Kat. Want to join me for brunch?”

I hide my disappointment. “That sounds nice, but maybe I should check with Jaden first.”

Kat laughs. “Jaden will be out for the count for several hours. He’s not even remotely a morning person.”

“Well, maybe—”

“Tell you what, if he wants you, Connor will let him know where to find you. Now, do you remember how to get to our private dining room?”

“I think so. See you in a minute.”

I take my usual spidey pause to see if I can connect with Summer. I focus on the spot in my mind where her spirit lives. Dark void trims the edges of murkiness. I’ve got to find her. Hang on, Summer!

I shake off my dread and set off, telling myself I’ll be sedate and let Kat do all the talking. Maybe I’ll find out more about Jaden. And this bondage stuff.

“Come on in, and help yourself,” Kat says as I near the door of their dining room. There’s a complete brunch buffet set up with every food imaginable—eggs, scrambled and Benedict; smoked salmon and all the fixings; an antipasto platter; a cheese tray—almost every food created is on the sideboard. A chef stands at an omelet station in the corner. I won the lottery. I’m delighted. You selfish bitch. What about Summer? I groan. Now, BG comes out to play. I need to keep my strength up. Take that! I dance around the ring of my imagination.

I help myself to a smorgasbord of items, including an omelet. I exchange cooking tips with the chef, dragging out the time as long as I can. Kat sits quietly while I settle at the table and fiddle with my cutlery and napkin.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Kat asks.

It seems like an innocent enough question, but my bowels clench as I look for the hidden meaning behind it. What is she trying to find out? Is she trying to find out whether I slept with Jaden? Has he cheated on a girlfriend? That’s it. I should have known. Did he say something to her? I put on my brightest smile and dig down for my manners.

“Yes, thank you. The room is lovely.” There, I did it.

“We put a lot of time and attention into decorating our suites. Jaden is particularly fond of the Burgundy Room.”

“Does he come here often?”

“You’ll have to ask him that. Jaden’s a very private person, and I don’t want to betray his trust.” Kat’s smile gentles her words. “I’ll tell you what I can. What else would you like to know?”

“How long have you known him?”

Kat’s smile broadens as if I’ve asked something very clever. And I have. I’m all about the saying “If you can’t catch a fly with vinegar, try honey.”

“For about three years. We met him shortly after his fiancée died.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?” I focus on my plate as if her answer holds little interest for me, and we’re simply making polite conversation.

“No, Rayne.” Kat’s voice is gentle. “Jaden hasn’t dated since.”

I work hard to kill the smile that’s knocking on the inside of my mouth. It’s isn’t as if either piece of news matters to me. I have no interest in hooking up with any man. I should feel dreadful for the pain he carries around with him like Jacob Marley’s chains. Jaden is my employer, nothing more. Yes, Rayne. Keep telling yourself that.

Kat looks steadily at me with a small smile that says she knows what I’m thinking. She puts her hand over mine. “How are you doing?”

My hackles rise like porcupine quills, ready to ram her in the face. “I’m just fine, thank you.” I pull my hand from under Kat’s.

Kat’s empathic smile doesn’t falter. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

“Look, I’m not a victim, okay. Don’t treat me like I might fracture at any moment. I’m a survivor. I don’t need anyone’s help.” I blow out a huge breath of bullshit. I need help, but I will never ask for it again. Why does everyone treat me like some fragile porcelain vase? Who needs their help anyway?

BG perches on my shoulder, ready with her answer. She ticks off each reason by raising a figurative finger. You’re black; you’re a woman, and you’re built like a child. Of course, you need rescuing. What part of that don’t you understand?

I refuse to understand.

I point my belligerent little face in Kat’s direction.

“Like I said, I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.” She pats my hand and takes a sip of her coffee.

I sit in awkward silence for a moment. I’ve experienced so little kindness in my life, I have no idea how to respond to it. I search my thoughts for something brilliant to redirect the conversation.

“Have you always lived here?” Brilliant . . . right.

“Heavens, no. I lived in Toronto when I was an executive in the publishing industry.”

“So what got you into this sex stuff?” I hope she doesn’t think I’m making a judgment.

“Connor. He’s a Dom. He helped me discover my natural proclivity for the lifestyle. Are you considering subbing for Jaden? What would you like to know?”

Everything. Jaden’s a Dom? My heart does another little hop, skip and jump. It’s as if she can read my mind.

“It’s not really my thing. I read some stuff on the Internet, and I’m just not into pain. Besides, I don’t think Jaden likes me.”

“I thought the same thing. I’m not into pain of any kind, or so I thought. Connor showed me that some kinds of pain are pleasurable. More than that though, he helped me understand I’m a sexual Submissive.”

I give a loud sniff. “I would never let a man control me willingly, not even for sex. I have no idea why people make such a big deal about a thirty-second fuck-and-flee session.” I sit back, waiting for the inevitable sermon. That silly smile just stays on Kat’s face.

“That’s too bad. Maybe you’ll change your mind when you meet the right man. I just hope you don’t hurt Jaden. He’s a good friend, and I don’t think he’ll survive losing someone else.”

Hurt Jaden? I doubt very much anything could get through his wall of reinforced steel, so there isn’t much chance of that. “So how did you and Connor meet anyway? At your club?”

Kat laughs. “We first met in university, but I wasn’t ready to look at my true nature, never mind embrace the lifestyle, so I ran.”

“What made you come back?”

“I ran into Connor at a business function years later. Seeing him still made my pulse jump and my toes curl. I had more experience by that time and realized I was bored with vanilla sex.”

“What’s vanilla sex?”

Kat gives me a penetrating look. “How many men have you had consensual sex with?”

Heat starts at my toes and wriggles its way up through my scalp until I’m one internal inferno. “A couple.” I don’t know what the hell I’m ashamed of. I meet her eyes. “Nothing to write home about, as they say.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I see nothing but compassion in Kat’s eyes.

“Basically, vanilla means sex in the missionary position, but I refer to all climb-on, climb-off sex as vanilla. And I’d never forgotten that one night with Connor.”

“Where did you learn about the lifestyle? Trial and error?”

“No, not at all. Connor put me through quite an intensive training program. That’s what started the idea of having a kink school.” Kat looks at me speculatively. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’d better check on the photo scans. Then I’ll just hang around until Jaden gets up. He might have more work for me to do.”

Kat laughs. “I doubt that Jaden’s going to surface for quite some time. I’m teaching my Spanking 101 class at one o’clock. Want to join us?”

My heart skips a merry beat. Oh boy, did I ever want to join. Research. I refuse to examine my motives.

I place the cutlery on my plate and take great care folding my napkin so I won’t look too eager.

“Can I just watch?”

“Don’t worry. We don’t do any actual spanking. How about I come get you in the security room around twelve thirty?”

“Works for me.”

I’m in a fine frenzy of excitement by the time Kat comes to collect me. I do my best to act nonchalant with my best Beyoncé imitation. Kat wears a gorgeous jade filigree mask. Before I can ask why, she hands me a plain black one, telling me to put it on.

“You’re joining a dry run for one of our classes at the Masquerade. Our members are big on anonymity. We all wear masks,” Kat says. “Trainees wear plain masks until they graduate the program.”

Kat describes the program as if it’s a university or something. What the hell would they graduate with? A Bachelor of Subology or some such? I stifle a giggle and follow Kat as she leads the way.

“So let me tell you a bit more about what to expect. You’ll be in class with two Subs in training. You can participate as much or as little as you choose. Feel free to ask any questions you have. Now, what name should I use to introduce you?”

“What do you mean?”

“We encourage the use of pseudonyms. When we’re in class, you’ll call me Mistress K. What would you like to be called?”

“Dracaena.” Little Dragon. I have no idea why Jaden’s pet name for me jumps out of my mouth. I meant to keep that my own little secret, tucked away in a very private place where no one could touch it. “I mean, they can call me Drake.”

Kat puts her arm around my shoulder. “Drake. That suits you. I like it. Now, no need to be nervous. We don’t bite.” She opens the door to a large room filled with sex stuff. A large boardroom table sits in the middle of the room with a long row of paddles and switches lining one side. Two women—one about my age and one who looks to be around forty—sink to their knees as soon as Kat . . . Mistress K opens the door.

“You may rise and take a seat.”

Both women rise and sit at the table. Kat leads me to the other side of the table.

“This is Drake. She’s our guest today. Drake, meet Charmian and Pumpkin. Take a seat.”

Charmian gives me a slight smile. Pumpkin keeps her gaze on the table. Seriously?

“Pumpkin, tell Drake what we’re learning today. You may look at her.”

“Yes, Mistress K,” Pumpkin’s eyes glitter with humor. “We’re learning all about spanking. By the end of the class, we’ll have a good idea of what toys we want to experiment with and know how to use them safely.