Sierra Cartwright - Doms of Dark Haven

She fought the impulse to back away. “It means I'm offering my throat—my jugular.”

“Would you do that if your wolf didn't trust me?”

The floor nearly opened under her feet at that revelation. Her heart raced, and the hairs on her neck rose. “If the wolf didn't trust you, I'd not give you my throat.

I'd never look away.”

He nodded in approval. “Back to the rules out there. While you are my submissive, you will keep your eyes cast down. Don't speak unless you are spoken to. If you wish to speak to me, call me 'Master.'”

Her jaw tightened.

“That one doesn't work for you?”

Wordlessly, she shook her head.

“Sir, then.”

Sir. That, she could do. She did it in the store all the time. Eva nodded, keeping her gaze averted. It seemed he was willing to be flexible.

“When I introduce you to other dominants, you will formally address them as

'Master' or 'Mistress.' Save for my pack and a few select others, I won't introduce you to submissives.”

He folded his arms. The dark frock coat pulled tightly across his arms and shoulders. Once again she was unable to hold his gaze.

“You aren't a complete stranger to this world, are you? You've been curious enough to do a little research.”

Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I make corsets for a living. I have to know a little about fetish.”

“Good. That will make things easier.” He reached out and ran his thumb over her bottom lip again and then slipped it inside her mouth. Eva froze, feeling the tip of his digit hook over her bottom teeth. Confused as to how to react, she remained perfectly still. Using his thumb as a hook, he pulled her closer.

“Now, Eva, we begin your education. The first thing you will do is remove your clothing.” He smiled, seeing rebellion cross her expression. He slipped his thumb from her mouth and stood back, a wicked smile on his face.

“All of it. But leave the corset and thong. Stockings and boots too. I like those.”

She took a deep breath and reluctantly began to disrobe. She growled softly the entire time.

Harte had no idea how he managed to survive that short time in the interrogation room. When the little wolf began to unbutton her blouse, he leaned back against the table, gripping the edges hard. If he didn't, he'd either grab her and take her down to the floor right then, or grab himself and get much too far ahead of the game.

Initially she was embarrassed as she undressed, but as she struggled and pulled her blouse free from under her corset, her fair skin flushed, and she bit her plump bottom lip. She stepped out of the long purple skirt, then glanced at him and blushed. She wasn't bashful—she was pissed as hell. That turned him on even more.

The pink-and-white-striped corset cinched her waist and cupped her breasts lovingly. The pink matched the cotton-candy streaks in her black hair. She wore a matching thong over the top of the garters.

She might not have dressed with sex in mind, but she knew what needed to come off first. Her fragrance surrounded him, and he nearly went dizzy with arousal. She was cotton candy and musk, and her arousal was laced with fury. That was good; as long as she was angry, she wasn't afraid.

Finally she stood before him, defiant in her feigned submission. Later it wouldn't be an act, but for now, her willingness to put herself into his hands was enough. It wasn't enough to keep the wolf from howling in his brain and scrabbling to break free.

Want!

Harte had scented her the moment she'd stepped into the building. He'd been negotiating a scene with a young human when he'd caught her fragrance. He'd probably been rude to the sub, but he'd apologize later. At that moment it had become imperative to track his prey.

Her scent had been laced with adrenaline when she'd entered the building and then panic as she'd stepped into the club. He'd managed to catch her just before she bolted.

Mate!

No, not mate. But a damned alluring female just the same. Mating was for life, and Harte was far from ready for a lifetime commitment. He had enough to deal with in managing his unruly little pack of wolves.

But she'd stumbled into his life with Abraxas on her trail. It was his obligation to do what he could for her. For the moment, that settled the wolf. Right then Harte knew that if he let her go after tonight, he'd regret if for the rest of his life.

Abraxas. He needed to call Chase Montenegro of the Truckee pack. His people frequently came to the Bay Area; they needed to be warned. They'd help if Harte needed it.

The Truckee pack was a collection of misfits and basket cases, but Harte couldn't deny that Chase and his betas were the most powerful, intimidating group of wolves that he'd ever encountered. When Chase had initially taken over the alpha position in the weak and disorganized Truckee pack, everyone had laughed at the foolish arrogance of the young nobody. But within weeks, Chase had shown up on Harte's doorstep, offering friendship and the invitation to join his pack, if Harte were so inclined. Harte hadn't been inclined, but with Abraxas on his doorstep, the alliance might go a long way toward keeping his own pack safe.

Eva shifted uneasily, and Harte realized that he'd been staring, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts, the flare of her hips. She was tiny but luscious.

“Take your hair down.”

She looked slightly annoyed at his command but obeyed. It tumbled around her shoulders, a cloud of ebony black waves spiked with pink that was nearly the same color as her lip gloss. Briefly he indulged in the fantasy of her shining, pouty lips wrapped around his cock, then set it aside. In spite of the promise that he'd extracted from her, if she showed the least reluctance to engage with him sexually, he'd respect her wishes.

Right. Who was he kidding? The wolf was howling to the sky, beating its rear foot in ecstasy at his brief fantasy. He'd push her as far as she'd go, and then maybe a bit further. If he didn't get his cookie, then Harte would reacquaint himself with his hand. Yet if he could only break past that brittle human shell, her wolf was ready and waiting.

He stood looking down at her, appreciating the way her gaze automatically slid to the side. Some dominants got off on the obedience of their subs, and with humans, he did as well. But with one of his own, it was the language of the pack.

She was a strong female bowing to him, giving him her throat. That was what wound his clock. Later, though, she'd hand him his ass on a platter if he didn't get her under control now. But then, he wasn't planning on a later, was he? The wolf certainly was. That realization nearly sent him out the door.

But little Eva was woefully lacking in survival skills, and Harte had only one evening to teach her what young wolves picked up automatically among their packs.

She was smart, though. Hot tempered as well.

“Pick up your clothing and bring it to me.”

She gracefully bent to scoop up the skirt and blouse, then carefully deposited her purse on top of them. She crossed to the table and held the garments out for him to gather.

“Get into position.”

Anger flared in those blue eyes, but she didn't object to his command. Harte pushed her a little, letting the innate power of his alpha flow outward to add just a touch of compulsion. Her eyes widened; she'd never been exposed to a dominant wolf before.

Eva cautiously lowered herself to her knees and looked up for further instruction. Her eyes showed her inner conflict, but to his gratification, she didn't argue. “Spread your knees just a bit more, and place the backs of your hands on your thighs as though in supplication.” It wasn't the norm in the club, but it was the stance his wolves took during the occasional discipline he administered. She automatically bowed her head.