Home > Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(18)

Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(18)
Author: Cherise Sinclair

“Right.”

“She’s also a sadist.”

“I do know that”—Ben held up his hand—“and I know she went lightly on me last week.”

As thunder boomed, the wind picked up, sending cold, moist air across the lanai. The scones on the wall flickered.

Uneasy, Zachary glanced at the steps leading to the third floor, the private quarters. He’d left Jessica on the couch, Galahad on her lap, both contentedly watching an old Die Hard movie. He checked his cell phone. No, she hadn’t messaged.

“Is Jessica all right?” Benjamin rose. “I’ll get out of your way so you can check on her.”

“Nice try, Benjamin, but I’m doing that now. Remotely.” Zachary half-smiled. “She gets grumpy if she thinks I’m ‘babysitting’ her.” So he texted, “I’ll be up in a few minutes. Can I bring you something?”

“Shhh. This is the best part of the movie!”

Damn, he loved his woman. “She’s fine.” He sat back and continued with the topic. “If Mistress Anne doesn’t call you, will you be comfortable with that? With seeing her pick up a new slave?”

He got a frown. “Z, we shared a scene, not a marriage.” Unfortunately, the words weren’t echoed by Benjamin’s emotions, which were primarily regret and disappointment.

“D/s sessions can unsettle submissives, especially new ones. When you trust someone to care for you—and they do well for you—then a bond develops. It’s easy to confuse that tie with other feelings.”

“Good to know.” Benjamin finished off his beer. “My friend and counselor,” he said in a lightly ironic tone, “what happens between me and the women in my life—whether the woman is Dominant or vanilla—stays with me. All respect to you, Z, but butt out.”

There were reasons he’d always respected the big Ranger. “Sergeant, you know I won’t do that.”

“You’re fucking stubborn.”

“Indeed. Since you enjoyed the scene, should I match you up with other Dommes?”

“No.” Benjamin stood. “Time for me to be going.” He touched his forefinger to his forehead in a half-salute and turned toward the door.

Zachary saw the determined jaw, the set of his shoulders. The sergeant had listened…and now would go his own way. Fair enough.

Lightning struck so close that he could almost hear the sizzle.

The power went out.

In the sudden darkness, Zachary rose and paused to orient himself. “I need to get to Jessica.” The club floors had low-level battery-operated emergency lights as required, but he’d never extended them to his private quarters. He usually appreciated the lull a power outage created in his busy life.

He’d never thought about having a pregnant wife and no power.

A chair creaked and Benjamin said, “I’ll hang out down here for a bit in case you need help with anything.”

“Thank you.” Using his cell for light, Zachary ran up the stairs to the third floor entry. A kitchen drawer yielded two flashlights. “Jessica, where are you?”

“Living room.”

She was still on the couch, the cat on her lap, and a delightful pout on her face. “The power cut out right when McClane was having a shootout. That’s so not fair.”

Damn, she delighted him. He crouched in front of her, running his palms over her round belly. His child was growing in there, surrounded by the woman he loved. “I’ll have a word with the storm and register your complaint. How are you doing?”

“My back hurts. And I have to pee again, but Galahad says he doesn’t want to move.”

She had a soft spot for the battle-scarred cat. Ruthlessly, Zachary picked the feline up and set him on the floor, winning an impertinent flick of the tail.

He put his hands under Jessica’s arms and stood, lifting her to her feet. So tiny to hold. Such a resilient, sturdy personality. She awed him at times. He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go, little one.”

In the bathroom, as he lit the candles she kept around the bathtub, Jessica disappeared into the toilet stall. Her moan of relief made him laugh.

“Call when you’re done so I can walk back with you, pet.” Giving her the privacy she preferred, he stepped into the master bedroom.

A minute later, the sound she made wasn’t his name. More like a groan or whimper.

“Jessica?”

“Um.” He heard her whisper, “Oh, God,” and concern tensed his gut.

He was in front of the stall before she had a chance to step out. In the flickering candlelight, he couldn’t read her face, but her emotions were all over the place. Worry uppermost. And pain. “Tell me.”

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