Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

Could life get any better? She had a whole new world here, with a job and a lover and friends. Time to call the real estate agent back in Iowa and get her house listed for sale.

Smiling a little, she turned and came face-to-face with Dickerson. She gasped.

His wet lips drew up in a satisfied smirk. Grabbing her wrist, he leaned toward her. “Want to change your mind, slut?”

The blood drained out of her head, leaving her dizzy. This couldn't be happening.

“My bitch of a wife might have left me”—the enraged, sick look in his eyes made Mac's stomach twist—“but I'll have you to service me every night.”

Her mouth filled with bile, but her answer was engraved in her very bones now. “No, I won't.”

“You're nothing.” Dickerson pulled her closer.

What would it take to make him leave her alone? Insults? “I may be nothing, but you're really little. And the worst I ever had.” Her voice wasn't loud, but people's heads turned at the emotion in it. More turned when she wrenched her arm out of his grasp. “Stay away from me.”

His face turned a horrible purple. “Cunt. You don't belong here among decent people,” he said, then raised his voice. “Victoria, this woman is a whore. She's from the Midwest, where she worked out of an alley, servicing anyone who'd give her money.”

Shocked inhalations filled the air, each sound stabbing through her defenses, until she wondered why there wasn't a pool of blood at her feet. She staggered back a step and tore her gaze from his, only to meet the barrage of eyes. Condemning, disgusted.

Victoria, her mouth pinched thin. Hope, with her hands over her mouth.

Across the room, Alex . Eyes like ice, yet filled with fury. He shoved a person out of his way and headed straight for her.

She ran.

The lights of the city never went dark.

Mac stood on the balcony of the third-rate hotel and watched the cars crossing the Ballard Bridge like a jeweled ribbon of light. The saucerlike Space Needle glowed high above the city. How many children thought it was an alien spacecraft coming to steal them away?

“Take me too,” she whispered, her hands clutching the railing. She stared up into the night sky, clear of clouds, the stars muted by the city. Surely rain should be pouring from the sky and the air should be cold, to match the aching chill inside her.

How can the world go on when mine has been destroyed?

So many people had attended Victoria's party—all the leaders of this city. The gossip would spread, and then everyone would know about her and what she'd done.

In Oak Hollow, Jim had given her a job because he loved her. But here? Even if she and Susan were friendly, the other vets wouldn't permit an ex-whore to work there. My job—gone.

No one else would hire her. My future—gone.

Hope's face, the shock on it. My new friends—gone.

And Alex . She let go of the railing and wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to contain the pain. She hadn't even dared to return to the house, even to get Chef.

Alex would have followed her there. Of course he would. And she couldn't bear to see the condemnation in his eyes.

Even if he didn't hate her, their time together was finished. No one associated with a whore.

Her knees gave out, and she slid down to sit, facing the desolate hotel room. A few more tears escaped, but she'd pretty much exhausted that avenue of comfort.

Hadn't been much comfort anyway.

Time to pick up and move on, MacKensie . But her past would bite her in the butt no matter where she went. How could she live like that, knowing someone could take everything from her again?

Maybe she should change her name and face. She gave a short laugh. Plastic surgery cost money, and gee, she didn't have a job. Not anymore. Well, she could possibly try a do-it-yourself facial reconstruction: bash her face into the wall, bust her nose, and let it set crooked. Then cut her hair short, spike it, and dye it black.

What the hell. Why not?

She was a survivor. The past years had taught her that. Knock her down and—eventually—she'd pick herself up and march on.

But this time she'd march without her heart. Oh God, Alex… She wouldn't go back for her clothing. No. Just disappear from his life. She rocked back and forth. What would he be thinking now? Would he feel betrayed? She tried to tell herself that he wouldn't care, and kept seeing his face when he held her in the dungeon. “ Stay, little vet .”

How long would he wait for her to return? Oh please, don't let him be hurt . Her breath hitched as her throat tightened. Guess she hadn't cried herself out after all.

She heard a key in the lock and looked up.

The hotel-room door opened. A young man in the hotel's uniform glanced at her before turning to someone in the hallway. “You were right, sir. She does look ill. Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

“I'll let you know.” Alex stepped into the room. He handed the bellboy several bills. “Thank you for your help.” As the man disappeared, Alex closed the door.

Alex, Alex, Alex . His name reverberated in her head with the beat of her pulse. “H-how”—her voice cracked—“how did you find me?” She couldn't voice the real question: why are you here?

“Your taxi. We helped start the company. As a courtesy, they keep a car or two on the street for Mother's parties.” He bent and hauled her to her feet.

Couldn't she get anything right? Not even an escape? “Alex,” she whispered. “No.”

His jaw tightened. He pulled her into the room and sat on the bed beside her. His grip moved from her arms to her wrists, a ruthless grip that didn't release when she tugged. “Explain,” he said.

She stared down at his corded, muscular hands, at the thickness of his wrists. “You heard him. It's true. I'm a whore.”

“And you've been trolling Pioneer Square in your spare time?” He snorted. “I said explain . This was what happened twelve years ago. How did you get started?”

She yanked at her hands again without success. Her worst nightmare never included sitting next to Alex and delving into the dregs of her life. “I am not going to talk about it.”

“Yes,” he said quietly, his voice deepening. Dom voice. “You are.”

And he would keep her here until she did. Talking wouldn't be easier an hour from now. Her stomach twisted into a massive, painful knot, and she swallowed hard. The hands encircling her wrists felt more restraining than any leather cuffs. No escape . “I ran away. My foster home… When Arlene's daughter graduated, she closed down. The one I went to—the man tried to touch me.” Her bitter laugh sounded more like a sob. “I ran from him and ended up under others. Smart, huh?”

His thumbs rubbed the back of her hands, and the tiny comforting gesture made tears pool in her eyes. He couldn't hate her and do that.

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen. Old enough to know better.”

“You could have gone back…”

“I'd decided to. But…I was stupid, so stupid . I hadn't eaten in three days, and a guy bought me a burger. He said he had an extra room.” Alex's hands slid down to hold hers, enfolding them in warmth. “I walked into his apartment thinking everything was going to be all right.” The relief singing through her.Food. A place to stay. A friend. Then the slap, coming out of nowhere . “He was a pimp. He beat me.” A fist in the stomach. The shocking, horrible pain…

She tried to smile as she said lightly, “I tried to escape once or twice, but he didn't like that.” The beatings, over and over. Face pressed into the carpet, bleeding, crying.