The Dom's Dungeon Read Online Free PDF Page A

going to my conference.”
    “Well,
that explains why you came back.” She applied antibacterial ointment to the
stitches and re-covered the wound with gauze. “I sure wasn't expecting anyone
to walk in.” This time when her eyes met his in the mirror, her face turned a
pretty pink.
    He watched
and saw her fingers tremble as she applied tape to the gauze. Her gaze followed
the line of his shoulder, paused on his bicep—she was seeing him as a man, not
a patient. Her color deepened. Arousal. Aversion . The
little sub had conflicts.
    With an
audible breath, she stepped back. “All done. Keep it
dry and have someone put a clean dressing on it tomorrow.”
    When he
turned and leaned against the sink counter, her gaze dipped to his bare chest.
He stood close enough that he could see the tiny pulse in her neck grow more
rapid. “Thank you, little vet,” he murmured. “You have gentle hands.”
    “You're
welcome.”
    When he
brushed his fingers along the delicate line of her jaw, she stiffened,
obviously fighting not to step back. And yet her pupils dilated slightly. Fear
and desire, like an abused puppy that wanted to be petted yet cannot trust.
    “Let me
put on a clean shirt, and I'll meet you in the family room.”
    She backed
up a step, gave him a nod, and headed for the door. In the stiffness of her
spine and the ungraceful movement of her legs, he could see the control she
exerted not to flee, like a little cat pretending not to notice a Great Dane in
the next yard.
    She was
smart. Sweet. Terrified.
    And
not his problem, dammit.
    Upstairs,
he picked up a T-shirt, winced at the thought of pulling it over his head, and
then chose a casual button-down instead. Odd how MacKensie's references all praised her character, dedication,
and skill. Nothing had hinted at her being the type of person to break
into a room. And when she'd apologized, he'd seen not only embarrassment but
shame.
    But if she
were so innocent, how had she managed to get the door open?
    He frowned
and leaned against the dresser. Interesting conundrums. What did a Dom owe to a sub not under his command? She obviously didn't want to
stay here, and problems or not, her choices were her
own.
    But
what about Exchanges? He needed to notify them about her behavior. And
he had a certain responsibility to the animals and veterinarians in this
community. Could she be trusted?
    Yet he'd
completely destroy her career if he voiced those questions. Dammit, he didn't
know enough to—
    His cell
phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts. He flipped it open. “What?”
    “Oh, Alex,
you sound so angry.” Cynthia's rich voice poured out like syrup.
    The day
just got better and better. He should have checked the number. “Cynthia, we're
done. Stop calling me. I won't see you or talk to you.”
    She laughed
lightly. “You're my master, so I'll obey and get off the phone now. But I know
you'll see me again. You aren't with anyone else, and I know you never go long
without a woman. There's something between us, Alex, and I'll wait for you.
I'll wait just as long as it takes.”
    He heard
the sound of a kiss, pulled the phone away, and cursed. This was worse than
he'd thought.
    Hell. He
could denounce her in public and humiliate her. He sighed. He not only couldn't
do that to a woman, but Cynthia happened to like being humiliated.
    “ You aren't with anyone else .” He could
fix that at least. Pick up a sub from the club and—he grimaced—probably end up with another problem. Here he'd thought Cynthia a
good choice since, with her wealth, his money wouldn't be a draw.
    As he
tucked his shirt into his pants and the movement pulled at the tape on his
back, he stilled, remembering the little submissive who had applied the
dressing. Maybe one simple solution would solve all his problems.
    * * * * *
    Mac waited
by the door of the family room, relieved when she heard Fontaine's footsteps
approaching. It had taken him long enough.
    He nodded
to her as he entered the room.