Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I’ve never allowed myself to scene with the same person twice, for their protection and mine.
But I want to scene with him again.
What would it be like to have a dom? Not just an anonymous top or someone to scene with. A real dom who would be a regular part of my life. Someone to hold me. Care for me. Touch me. . .
It’s been years since I’ve allowed anyone to touch me. I haven’t craved it until now. Until him. . .
I pride myself on never needing aftercare. I can take care of myself. But in the moments after he made me come, my skin throbbed with a new poison, a new need. He left marks deeper than the red flush on my skin.
Last night, I fell asleep feeling like someone was watching over me. A powerful, shadowy presence smiling down on me. And, in my dreams, I could hear a deep voice crooning Little bird. . .
Even now, I sense him with me.
Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to let go? Let someone else take over?
The dom had given me what I wanted. He made my outsides hurt more than my insides. And then, he gave me what I needed. And now. . . I’m craving more.
But I can’t shake an unsettling feeling because the dom knew my name. How? Our encounter was supposed to be anonymous. Club Empire caters to the elite and operates on strict rules.
I don’t like it. He knows me, and I don’t know him. He has the advantage.
Maybe I can dig a little and find out who he is. I won’t misuse my detective’s badge, but I have other ways of investigating.
What am I thinking? What happened last night was a one-time thing.
No matter how much I long for more.
I rub my arms. I still can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched. It’s silly, but it makes me flee to the closet to get dressed. As I move about my townhouse, getting ready for the day, I can almost smell the dom’s sexy, woodsy cologne. I must be imagining it.
But as I leave for work, I can’t help but think that one way or another, I’ll be seeing the mysterious dom again.
Darling Inara,
Today marks the anniversary of the first time I saw you. It was so long ago, but I remember how blue the sky was, how crisp the air. You stepped out of the shadows and tilted your face to the sun, and the light illuminated your perfect face.
Then you felt me watching and stared into the shadows. Even then, you could see beyond what other people see. You could sense the darkness.
I’ve spent every waking moment hunting for details of you. I learned your name. Inara. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. It means many things, but then I discovered one form of your name means swallow. The bird. A beautiful and fragile creature, like you. Swallows fly vast distances, chasing the warmth of summer.
You have a much darker gift. You see the worst parts of people. You wish you could shut your eyes to it, but you can’t. So you do what you can to fix the world.
Your homing instinct is broken. And I fear I am the one who shattered it.
It wasn’t meant to be like this, my swallow. I’m still hoping that one day, I can make it right.
Until then, remember to spend a moment in the sun.
Forever yours,
BK
4
Inara
The city of New Rome has it all. Graffiti-covered concrete and parks full of ancient trees. High-rises and slums. Seven million people—many from the old country, streaming here by boat and plane to build a new life. The best and worst of humanity crammed into several square miles. I can walk three blocks and hear seventeen different languages. I can bump into a bum one moment and a billionaire the next.
This morning, I study each face. I strain to hear every voice. I’m looking for him. The man from last night. The dom with the voice of an angel and the presence of an emperor.
I’m waiting for my order at the coffee shop when I sense his dark, dominant presence. The back of my neck prickles; I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. I ignore it, but the sensation builds. He’s watching me.
Then I hear the rumble of a deep voice. He’s here. I glance around the coffee shop but no one stands out until I see a man in a suit pushing out the door.
Before I can stop myself, I push past the waiting customers and rush out onto the sidewalk. In front of the coffee shop, a dark-haired man is disappearing into the back of a black town car, and for a stupid moment, I think—could it be him?
“Ma’am? Your order is ready—” The barista’s call is cut off by the closing door, breaking my delusion. The town car pulls away, and I stare down the street, feeling lost. Of course it wasn’t him. I’m so desperate to find him I’m imagining things.