Rayne’s taste lingers on my tongue. Her smell intoxicates me. Desire shoots through me with liquid speed. Rayne’s combination of unresponsiveness and deep passion intrigues me. When I arrived, she was so tense I was afraid she’d bolt from the viewing room. Her curiosity about the flogging scene told a different story. The woman is an enigma, and I will find out her secrets. I convince myself this is simply idle curiosity, so I know how to help her.

Maybe the Top in me can scent her submissiveness. Maybe I’m just crazy, but her lethal combination of fierceness and fragility hooks me. The barb sinks deep into my heart, penetrating the wall I’ve built since Savannah. I shore it up again to keep me from a vat of hurt. This is strictly about Rayne’s healing process. Nothing more.

I stay on my knees, taking in Rayne’s scent, and let common sense prevail. I will not fuck her. I will not be tempted by her restrained eagerness. She isn’t ready for me or my kink. Hell, she tenses as I move my face to her beautiful cunt. She needs to be a lot more relaxed. I will not be another of the men who force themselves on her. The throb of my hard-on tells a different story. Time for some thought redirection.

What is this shit about Rayne being a Sub? My cock does a handstand at the thought. Good job there, Jaden. A smile quirks. I’m not doing a good job of ignoring my interest. It’s purely clinical. Yup, I’m going to be her knightly savior. Prince Jaden will ride in and save the day. What is it about her that makes me lapse into these boyish fantasies?

Could Connor and Kate be right? Will Rayne take on another Dom if I don’t step in? The thought of some Dom laying hands on Rayne makes my blood boil. I convince myself my concern is purely altruistic. What if she finds one of the sadists who use dominance as a cover to prey on the weak? What if she meets the kind of menace who’ll take her from damaged to broken? The kind of menace I make it my mission to destroy. What if—

I shake it off. What-ifs don’t exist in my world. There’s no doubt I’m drawn to something in Rayne, but I can’t give her what she needs. Even if she thinks I can. She needs someone to love and protect her while unclipping her wings. But then again, maybe Connor is right.

I drink in her scent one more time before settling back on my haunches. Rayne runs her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, swollen with lust. As I stand, her beautiful mouth curves down before it settles into indifference. Her mask, her protection. I have no idea what to do next.

I tip her chin and brush my lips across hers. Lightly. Quickly. Because if I’m near her one nanosecond more, I’ll be lost. Even that quick kiss has her folding into me. A fragile bird needing rescue. That’s too much like intimacy. I won’t do intimacy again. I step away and rearrange my clothes, taking several deep breaths. When I turn around, Rayne is dressed and watching the scene, arms crossed over her chest. Her shield. I step beside her. I get the distinct feeling that she has no more idea of how to behave than I do. Her lack of experience is a bonus. I don’t need to worry about female wiles and manipulations. The more time I spend with her, the more I see that she seems incapable of dishonesty, at least with me. When she tries to prevaricate, the tips of her ears turn crimson.

Rayne’s curiosity soon overcomes whatever demons she battles. “What is he doing now?”

The Dom smoothes cream over the Sub’s very red, somewhat welted buttocks.

“He’s giving her aftercare. A Dom’s prime directive is to care for all his Sub’s needs. Her butt needs care after that flogging.”

“So you’re a Trekkie?” Rayne looks directly at me, a huge grin lighting her face. My head almost spins around from the change in subject. One of these days I’ll get used to her penchant for digression when she wants time to think.

“I prefer the term Trekker. That’s what the rational fans who walk with them are called.”

“Which series do you prefer?”

Her smile pierces through my glum spirit, and I can’t help but respond in kind. “The original, of course. Let me guess—you love The Next Generation.”

Rayne practically bounces with delight. “You would be so wrong. Much as I like Jean-Luc Picard, it’s Captain Kirk and Spock all the way.”

“Not a fan of Bones?”

“He’s an idiot. Do all Doms put their Subs’ well-being first?” Another head-swiveling moment.

I take a beat to consider my response. How do I tell her there are as many types of Doms as there are types of play toys? How do I warn her about the many sadists and wannabe Doms out there? My gut twists as I think of Rayne’s small body bent and bleeding beneath one of those sick bastards who doesn’t know the meaning of consent. I study the scene before us while I gather my thoughts.

“Like anything, there are good and bad. It’s important for both Dom and Sub to know themselves and why they gravitate to the life. That’s why everyone has to pass the training program before they’re granted membership at the Masquerade.”

Rayne hugs herself as if to hold in more of that pent-up energy of hers. I can almost see her mentally counting before she bursts forth with her torrent of questions.

“What program? What’s it called? How long is it? Was that class I went to today—”

“Whoa.” I laugh, put my hands up and back away a few steps as if she’s pursuing me. The smile muscles in my face almost ache from disuse. I haven’t laughed since Savannah. Now, this little minx has me finding humor in the absurd. I’m humoring her.

She laughs, points her index finger toward my chest, and advances on me. “No way, mister. Spill.” Whenever she forgets herself, she transforms into someone who reminds me of royalty with her graceful yet energetic approach to life. Like an exotic island princess.

My knees buckle as I hit the couch. She collapses on top of me, still laughing and jabbing that small finger into my chest. I grab her wrist and still her. For a split second, I feel good. I’m almost . . . happy. I gaze into those sparkling dark eyes.

“Well, are you going to tell me or not?” She pokes my chest with her left index finger.

I grab her other wrist, holding her hands close to her sides. “Hold on. Give a guy a chance.”

She sticks her tongue out at me. I inhale the scent of her curiosity, her passion. My cock flares to life. It hasn’t seen this much action since . . . I shake away the thought. I don’t want to leave this moment.

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, the program. As I said, the Masquerade runs courses as part of their membership requirements. And yes, the class you were in today is part of the program. Kat was doing a practice run with new material. They also run some workshops for upgrading, so to speak.”

“So, did you take this program? When?” Rayne bounces on my thighs. Good thing she sits well back from my growing hard-on.

“Yes. About three years ago.” Stay in the moment.

“Is that how you found out you were a Dom?”

Would I ever get used to how she cuts right to the chase? I hesitate, unsure of how to respond.

“Yes, well . . . that probably started it.”

She slumps back and looks at her lap. The lap that supports the thighs spread across my legs. “Oh.”

“Is there a problem with that?”

She looks up sharply, sensing something in my tone. “No, no. All I meant was I thought you’d know you were a Dom. Like it was a revelation or something. Like being called to the priesthood.” Rayne looks all perplexed and ready to examine a pesky problem from all angles.

Another laugh spills from me. “It’s not a calling. And I don’t think even priests have a sudden flash of enlightenment. It’s a process.”

She looks at me earnestly. “They say they do. They get the call.”

“Who says they do?”

“Priests. You can read about it anywhere.” There she goes, spouting that bullshit again. The bullshit that distracts me from the sparkle deep in her eyes. The sparkle that tells me she’s fucking with me. I love it.

“When did you become an expert on the priesthood?”

She cocks her head to the left, a smirk touching her lips. “You don’t have to be an expert to be knowledgeable. What do you mean, upgrading?”

Headspin. It takes me a minute to recall the reference. “Oh, you mean the workshops? Let me see. How best to explain.” I let go of her wrists and run my hands up her arms, unable to keep my hands from the smooth velvet of her skin any longer. She immediately moves to put her arms around my shoulders, but I grab her wrists and pin them back to her sides. She pushes out her luscious bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. I bite my own lower lip to keep from snatching hers between my teeth.

“Let’s say I want to try using a bullwhip during a session. I can’t just haul off and start beating on someone without knowing how to use it safely. That’s how people get hurt. Badly. I need to take lessons to learn how and see if I have the right temperament to be using the tool.”

“Sounds pretty serious.”

“It is pretty serious. It’s not something we embark on lightly. Connor and Kat are adamant about that.”

“So will you be my Dom?”

The skin on my face stretches thin with shock. Rayne frowns as she sees my reaction. “It doesn’t have to be forever or anything. I’m not asking you to make any sort of commitment.” She says the words so fast they’re barely intelligible.

I study her carefully. “My dear woman, agreeing to be your Dom is a commitment. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to have to hash out some terms.”

Are you out of your fucking mind?

“What kinds of terms?”

“Like our hard limits and safe word.”

“How can we know what we don’t like if we haven’t tried anything?”

I really like her perceptiveness. It also makes me squirm. “That’s why we take honesty and open dialogue very seriously in the lifestyle. You need to tell any sexual partner if there’s something you don’t like.”

“Oh trust me, they’ll know. Or, pow!” She pulls her wrist free and pumps it in the air.

I don’t love the way she dances away from anything that makes her uncomfortable. If I agree to this crazy scheme, that will have to change. I set her on her feet and stand over her.

“If you’re going to joke, this discussion ends here and now.”

Rayne sighs long and loudly. “I get that it’s serious, okay. I know serious. I’ve had it my whole life. When you’re ready to talk terms, I’ll be intense. In the meantime, I’m just having some fun. Is that all right with you?” She’s pissed. She glows when her temper ignites.

The burning desire to kiss her douses the tiny flame of guilt for being a killjoy. I drink in her ire for a beat. My little dragon makes me feel, and that makes me want to shed my skin. I have a glimmer of . . . what? Hope? Despair?

I sigh. “Will you ever agree with anything I say?”

Her grin turns positively evil. “Does that mean you agree?” She leaps up and starts bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“We’ll see.” I have the presence of mind to know I should never make a life-changing decision with a diamond-hard dick.

“And anyway, aren’t you supposed to make me want to submit? How do we get started?” She keeps bouncing.

I let a moment of happiness seep out through my smile.

“So will you do it?” Sensuality glistens on her as if she’s rolled in diamond dust. There’s no doubt about it. I will not risk letting someone else harm her. How fucking altruistic of you, Jaden. I need to have her. Emotion chokes through me. Get the fuck out of my head.

I can’t be with her one second longer. I could lose everything. I suck in my breath and pull hard on the reins of my control. I don’t want to scare her.

“We’ll see. Be ready to leave at ten a.m. sharp.” I trace my finger under her chin . . . and leave.