Masters 02 Master of the Abyss (2 page)

A smile flickered over his angular face. “Well now,” he murmured. “Appearances can be deceiving, can’t they? Aren’t you supposed to be tougher than any man around?” His hand still gentle on her cheek, he ran a thumb over her lips, sending a tremor through her, followed by a wave of heat.

Wimp. Wuss
. Her muscles had turned to water, but she managed to grasp his wrist, trying not to notice the thick bones, the steely tendons. She firmed her voice, and it still came out sounding all girlie and weak. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked softly. And he regarded her…differently…in a way that sizzled straight to the center of her body.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered and pushed his hand away.

Amusement lit his eyes, and a corner of his mouth turned up, creasing his cheek. “Oddly enough, I think I like looking at you.”

“Oh sure you do. So are you the one who hit me?”

“I don’t hit women,” he growled…and then his lips quirked up. “There are much better ways to punish sassy wenches.”

At the assessing look he gave her, she could feel her face flame red.

“That’s a fine color on you, sugar,” he murmured and grasped her upper arms, lifting her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a doll. As the room did a fast merry-go-round, Kallie sagged.

He put an iron-hard arm around her waist to keep her upright. She’d had dreams of having his arm around her, but somehow they’d never included being knocked sprawling in a bar first.

“Hey, Kallie.” Barney poked his head in the entrance, eliciting a stream of curses from the grizzled Swede who owned the tavern. “I’m sorry. I threw him at the door, not at you.”

“You hit me with a person?” When they’d played baseball in high school, Barney’s aim had been notoriously bad; it obviously hadn’t improved any. After a second, she laughed and shook her head—
whoa, not a good move
. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

Giving his gap-toothed smile, Barney disappeared back out the door, and his roar of battle glee drifted in with the night air.

“Nice of you to forgive him,” Jake said as he guided her to a chair. When he stepped away, the warmth of his hands still lingered on her waist.

“He’s too big to kill easily.”

Jake’s laugh sent chills across her skin. When her friends surrounded her and their perfume smothered his clean, masculine scent, Kallie felt relieved. Mostly.

“Girl, I can’t believe you’re all right. You landed really bad.” Gina swooped her hands to demonstrate Kallie’s dive and face-plant.

Great. Bet he found that just hilarious.

His grin confirmed her opinion, and then he slid a finger down her cheek. “You know, little sprites shouldn’t be fighting.”

From anyone else in the world, she might have found the remark amusing. From him, after wanting him for so long, it simply hurt. Trying to ignore the way her skin tingled in the wake of his touch, she gave him a cold look. “I’m not little, and I’m not a sprite. Thanks for the help—now go away.”

“You’re welcome.
Sprite
.” He glanced at his watch, winced, and shot a stern look at her friends. “Someone take her home.” Before anyone could respond, he walked away.

As he left the bar, Gina sniffed. “Such a shame that bossy looks so good on him.” She patted Kallie’s shoulder. “Let me get my purse, and I’ll drive you home. You really—”

“I really need a beer,” Kallie interrupted. “No, two beers. And a burger and fries. I just got back from a week in the backcountry, and I’m not running home because some pushy”—
gorgeous
—“person”—
bastard
—“thinks I should.”

She’d watched her friends turn all syrupy whenever Jake Hunt touched them. Now she’d done the same thing—and she didn’t like it one bit.

He watched from the shadows, unwilling to join in the fighting. His battle wasn’t against his fellow men—his brothers—but against evil.

The small woman who had fought, who actually struck a male, had caught his eye. Dark hair and dark eyes were often markings of the devil.

He would watch. He would see.

* * *

His coffee sent a thin line of steam up into the chill morning air. With a sigh of enjoyment, Jake set one foot on the porch rail and settled comfortably in his chair as the sun edged up from behind the white-capped eastern mountains. At his feet, Thor snoozed, his black-furred muzzle resting on Jake’s boot. The dog had chased a bear away from the cabins last night and apparently felt he’d earned his rest.

Jake frowned. He and Thor needed to have a chat. They had named the place Serenity Lodge, not Barking Dog Cabins. Then again, could anything be more serene than a summer morning in the Sierra Nevada?

Logan’s rough voice from inside the lodge indicated his brother was awake, and when Rebecca’s laugh floated out, Jake knew breakfast wouldn’t be too long in coming. And a damn good breakfast since Rebecca cooked like a dream. Logan had lucked out to find himself such a soft, sweet woman—well, she did have a temper, but that simply added some spice to a relationship. Very feminine, though; in fact, she’d worn tailored shirts and designer jeans on her first visit to the lodge.

Jake grinned and shook his head, thinking of Kallie Masterson, the direct opposite of feminine for whatever reason. He’d known women who worked in male-dominated fields. Some downplayed their charms when on the job, but not all the time. He might have thought she preferred women, but the notion had bit the dust last night when she’d warmed so sweetly under his hands and eyes.

He took a sip of coffee. A man had to wonder how she’d react to a more…personal…touch. And what she was concealing underneath those flannel shirts and baggy jeans. His hands had curved around a nice waist, one that flared out to what was probably a lushly rounded ass. When the thought of peeling her jeans off to see that ass made him harden, he huffed a laugh and shook his head.
Not going there.

The way her beautiful eyes—so dark a brown they were almost black—had widened at his command told him she wasn’t experienced in the games he enjoyed playing. And he sure as hell didn’t want another vulnerable woman. The thought of Mimi’s face as she had knelt before him and pleaded with him to keep her stabbed his heart. He wasn’t cut out for a serious relationship—didn’t need one, didn’t want one.

Especially a submissive who didn’t even realize her nature, let alone one living in Bear Flat. He’d dated quite a few women from town but kept the dates strictly vanilla. When he required a submissive for some BDSM play, he went farther afield. Considering how badly he’d screwed up with a sub once, he never sought anything more than light play.

He watched as the sun warmed the mountain slopes and patches of white fog drifted upward. No. He wouldn’t pursue anything with Kallie. Besides, he and Logan were discussing a business agreement with the Mastersons and their guide service.

Yet she appealed to him so much that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Which was rather odd. Since she’d returned to Bear Flat a couple of years ago, he’d never said more to her than good morning, had only been aware enough of her to be irritated by her manner and clothing.

Perhaps he should have been impressed instead. She was a good guide, he knew. And apparently a good friend. He grinned, remembering her defense of the women last night. All that courage in such a small bundle. She’d gotten knocked ass over teakettle and hadn’t whined, hadn’t cried—just cursed like a lumberjack. When he’d helped her up, she’d fairly vibrated with energy.

And heat.

She wanted him. Jake took a sip of coffee, remembering the feel of her, the sexual sizzle between them. She wanted him and didn’t like the fact. He didn’t either.

And it didn’t seem to matter, especially against the memory of her melting under his command.
A submissive.

Jake tipped his head back as an eagle soared high, becoming a black speck in the pale gray sky. As he lifted his coffee, his hand stilled.
Submissive. Business
. Hell. He tossed the remainder of his drink into a nearby bush and headed into the lodge.

As he entered the kitchen, he saw Rebecca smack Logan’s knuckles with a wooden spatula.

“Keep those fingers away from the bacon,” she snapped.

Logan shook his hand, then grabbed her arms and lifted her onto tiptoes. “Little rebel, you’re going to pay for that.”

The sub’s body went limp. She smiled at Logan and said in a throaty voice, “Okay.”

Jake snorted a laugh.

Frowning, Logan set her down and glanced at Jake. “Can’t even scare her these days. What am I going to do?”

“You’re too easy on her, and she gets off on being spanked.” Jake leaned a shoulder against the door frame. “Try a whip.”

Logan crossed his arms and studied her. “Possible…possible…”

Rebecca’s eyes widened, and she sidled away from him, abandoning her bacon.

“Speaking of whips,” Jake said. “If I could have your attention before you start stripping her down, there’s something we should discuss with the Mastersons.”

“That would be?”

“What happens on a guide trip when one of our guests pulls out handcuffs? Or a flogger.”

* * *

A few days later, Kallie took her time picking stones and crud out of Midnight’s hoof and ignored the sound of Wyatt and Morgan fidgeting behind her. Thank God Virgil had chosen to be a cop, or she’d have all three of her cousins behind her.

The normally comforting scent of straw and horses clogged her throat as she carefully examined the horse’s frog and checked the horseshoe. Pity that this was the last hoof to clean. Couldn’t stall anymore, despite the bomb her cousins had dropped on her. At least she’d managed to get her face smoothed out to unreadable, although her stomach churned as if she’d chugged a pitcher of beer.

The late afternoon sun streaming into the barn made the dust in the air glow as she turned to face her cousins. “Now what do you mean, we’re going to be seeing a lot of the Hunt brothers?”

With her cat sitting at his feet, Wyatt leaned against the opposite stall, a pleased smile on his face. Morgan had the same smug expression. Good-looking guys. Sure they loomed over her like every other person in the world, but she figured they’d be a lot shorter after she killed them dead.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well?”

“We talked about this before, cuz,” Wyatt said, taking point as he always did on the trails, leaving Morgan to bring up the rear. “You said they wouldn’t be interested, but we ran into them at the feed store last week, and they thought it was a great idea. We’ve had a couple of discussions, and it’ll work out well.”

Oh wonderful
. “So Logan and Jake will pimp our guide services, and in return, we’ll book our incoming clients at their lodge instead of in Yosemite Village.”

“Yep.” Morgan grinned. “Means more business for all of us. Jake will still handle the day trips for their guests, but we’ll get any overnights or longer. If our clients spend the night locally, we’ll be able to hit the trails earlier.”

Fine, it was a practical idea, but it meant she’d be running into Jake Hunt all the time, and that wasn’t a comfortable thought. Either the man ignored her or wore a faintly disapproving expression—both were damned annoying. Then again, the way he’d looked at her last weekend…might be worse. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

But to say
I don’t like the way Jake Hunt looks at me
to her cousins? No way. So she’d deal with it. It’s not like Jake would come on any guided trips, and she could probably avoid him when picking up the clients at the lodge.
Trouble is, will I want to
? “I suppose that makes sense.”

“The only drawback we’ve found is that the lodge has a rep for accommodating kinky groups.” Wyatt’s brows drew together. “We’d heard rumors about the place; Logan confirmed they’re true.”

“Kinky like what?”
Jake and kink
. The thought took her breath away.

“Like bondage and BSMD”—Morgan frowned—“or BMDS.”

“BDSM, doofus, and swingers and gay clubs. Whatever.” Wyatt scratched the three-day-old stubble on his cheek. He never shaved when he was on the trail with a group. “If they have a…specialty…weekend, they’ll black out the days, so we don’t book clients then.”

When Mufasa glided over, Kallie leaned down and stroked the cat’s soft fur. “I guess that sounds all right.” Surely the clients wouldn’t do weird stuff in front of her.

“The thing is their…people…are going to want to…you know,” Wyatt said.

She gave him an exasperated look. “I don’t know what ‘you know’ means.” Then again, she might. Serena’s romance books were pretty…interesting. And Kallie had actually tried a few things when she was in college. Handcuffs. Spanking. In the books, BDSM had sounded thrilling; in real life, it had been a dud. Wouldn’t her cousins hit the roof if she mentioned that?

“Yeah. We told Logan you wouldn’t.”

She snorted. “Like you have more experience?”

Wyatt’s dark tan acquired a red hue. “Morgan and I have seen some, and we told Logan that we’re okay with it.”

“You have?”
Whoa, new information here
. “You are?”
Who are you guys, and what did you do with my cousins?

“It’s not our thing, but we got around when we were younger.” Morgan waggled his thick brows. “San Francisco has everything.”

Wyatt glared at him. “Watch your mouth.”

Kallie sighed. Her cousins usually treated her as one of the guys. With Uncle Harvey’s “
Everyone is equal in this house
” rules, they’d been fine with her being a guide, but perversely, equality didn’t include anything having to do with sex. If they could dress her like a nun, they would, and Wyatt, with his love of the Old West, was the worst of them all.

“Don’t worry about it, Kallie,” he said. “You’re not going to guide any of the lodge’s…special…guests.”

The sense of insult was instant. “That’s pretty sexist of the Hunts. I’m as good as you guys, probably better.”

Morgan grinned at the long-standing competition of “who’s best,” then sobered. “It wasn’t the Hunt’s decision, cuz; it was ours.”