The Art of Redemption Read Online Free PDF

Eyes.”
    Dylan puckered his mouth but held his tongue when the men around him began to laugh at their verbal sparring match and it became apparent that Morrison was just trying to goad him.
    *
    Sixteen horrific, bloody hours later, Dylan had nothing but respect for Morrison. Back on the military plane, he peered out the small window as they ascended. Just above the horizon, dusk filled the hills with purple mist. The scene was beautifully deceiving of the hell they had just been through. Sinking low into the seat, his body ached with fatigue and he was glad the mission was finally over. Holy hell, he couldn’t wait to be back inside the Dark Asylum with a woman under his command and feeling the effects of his sweet torture from the cat o’nine tails. The sound of the leather against flesh was more relaxing and arousing than anything he had ever experienced in his short lifespan. Then to be thanked and sucked off after welting her flesh? Christ, what a powerful feeling. It was only behind the doors of Kerian’s club that he felt truly in control. If only he had known of such things years ago…
    His eyes shifted focus onto Morrison’s stressed and worn face before glancing downward at his duty boots. A ray of sunlight filtered in and glinted off the terrorist’s blood that was still splattered on them. Wiping the dampness of the Guam humidity off his brow with the back of his hand, he let out a deep sigh of irritation at how inexperienced he had acted during their outing. He had damn near shit his pants when he saw the lethal look in Morrison’s brown eyes as he shot a man point blank in the face without so much as flinching at the backsplash. But his actions, however harsh they may have seemed at the time, had saved the lives of not only himself, but the men accompanying them and probably h undreds more considering what the outlaw had planned. He watched as Morrison spotted the specks of blood, bent down and rubbed his boots clean with the cuff of his jacket as it was just a speck of dirt and not another man’s brain matter or DNA.
    Dylan couldn’t help but wonder: could he ever be that cold and calculating? When push came to shove, when people depended on him… would he be able to deliver the final blow to someone with as much detachment as Morrison? That’s what he was trained to do yet there was a seed of doubt within him that he could actually go through with it.
    He had been trained in all sorts of ways, it seemed, including being a Dom. More doubts seeped into his subconscious. Could he ever be the kind of man that a submissive required? He knew that being given that honor was more than just about sex. Kerian had driven that into his head over and over again. Was he even man enough to have his own submissive? He wanted one. Or did he really? It was such a tremendous responsibility – like his job. The thought of letting down Kerian and the BDSM community was more than he could fathom. No, he didn’t want his own submissive. Not now or any time soon. He would just have to be content in helping to train them. His mind was too cluttered with other things, the greatest of which was guilt, to truly focus on any one woman anyway.
    He had failed tonight. His immaturity had shown and he was disgusted with himself. God, how he hated failure. All he ever wanted was to be the best at everything he did. To somehow make his parents proud and make up for what he had caused, despite the shitty actions he had perpetrated on them. His gaze drifted to some far off place and his mom and dad’s face flashed before his eyes. God damn it, why couldn’t he just let it go?
    Morrison’s voice sliced through his self-loathing and answered his unspoken question. “We’ve all been where you’re at. If it comes down to doing what needs to be done, when it comes down to that, you’ll find the strength, Young. We all do.”
     

Chapter 4
    Isabel
    Isa woke to the sound of her own heavy breathing. She had dreamt of ropes wrapped