Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Panting from her dash up the stairs, MacKensie entered her bedroom and locked the door behind her. Not that there was much point since the guy probably had a key to every room in the house.
The bastard.
In the bathroom, she tossed her clothing into the bathtub. It landed with a wet splat.
She glanced in the mirror and rolled her eyes at the vision of beauty: face dead white, hair in tangles, tear streaks. Then again, she should look at the bright side; if she’d worn makeup, her mascara would have been all over her cheeks.
The bastard.
Speaking of which. She dropped the blanket and turned to check her backside. Fiery red handprints marked the white skin of her bottom. Her teeth ground together as another wave of shame ran through her.
He had no right to do that…
She touched her butt carefully, hissing a little at the sting.
To her surprise, she saw he’d left no welts or bruises, and she realized he hadn’t been totally brutal.
His grip had been firm enough to hold her and had eased when she stopped struggling.
No, he’d administered a carefully controlled spanking, and somehow that made him scarier than an out-and-out brute.
Didn’t matter. She wasn’t staying, and she didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity. After rinsing the sweat and tear streaks off her face, she dragged on a T-shirt and jeans, then repacked her suitcase.
I am so out of here. And then what? Mac closed her eyes as worries piled higher and higher like thunderclouds before a storm. Worries that all started with the letter m for money.
Obviously she should have sold the house Jim had left her before coming here. She huffed a laugh. Face it. She’d been too insecure to put all her eggs in the Seattle basket; she hadn’t wanted to give up the house until she knew she had a job.
But her lack of confidence had screwed her up now. She had no money, dammit. After paying funeral expenses, she’d barely managed to scrounge up enough money for the airfare and car rental.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—ever regret helping Jim before he died. Nothing would ever repay what he and Mary had done for her; what were money and time? Her eyes burned with tears. What she wouldn’t do to have them back again.
But they’d packed up and moved to heaven, leaving her all alone…
and really, really broke. She’d thought she’d gotten such a lucky break to get to stay in this house while she looked for a job.
Before leaving Iowa, she’d lined up interviews with vet clinics for the next two weeks, but now she had nowhere to stay and no money for a hotel room.
Maybe she could sleep in her car? But since she didn’t own a cell phone, she’d used the phone here as her contact number.
She’d so looked forward to moving to Seattle and starting a new life where no one knew her. A life surrounded by animals that gave back every bit of the affection they received. Being a veterinarian was the best job in the world…if she could find a position.
Fontaine had said he’d discuss alternatives to the legal route.
What did he mean by that? If she sneaked out, would he really report her?
Would he try to keep her from getting a job?
She eyed the antique furniture, the leaded glass panes in the window, the Oriental carpet.
Money. And money meant power. He could probably keep her from getting any job in the area with just a word.
Maybe she could go somewhere else? Only that might prove difficult.
She closed her eyes, thinking of the hours she’d put in researching the clinics here, applying for jobs, sending out résumés, and setting up interviews.
She could do all that again…if she had a phone, her computer and printer, and time.
To try to accomplish all that from the back of a car, with no food or phone or money?
Desolation hit, sucking her down into the depths, and then she fought back out. Blinking back tears, she put her chin up and firmed her mouth. “No retreat; no surrender.” She’d manage, dammit; she always had. Picking up her suitcase, she glanced around the room and saw no trace of her presence.
Once downstairs, she set her suitcase in the foyer and headed for the family room.
“MacKensie.” Alex appeared in the door of the bathroom. Shirtless. Her eyes widened at the sight of his bare chest. “Excellent timing. Come here, please.”
Coldness swept through her.
He waited.
She hesitated, then realized his face wasn’t flushed with lust. She chanced a quick look lower; he wasn’t hard.
“Excuse me?” Be polite but stay out of reach.
She straightened her spine and marched forward to stand in front of him.
“What happened to the discussion in the family room?” With you fully dressed.
“Soon. First, I have a favor to ask of you.”
She hadn’t been wrong about him after all. Here came the proposition. “What?”
He huffed a laugh. “Such a suspicious mind. Little vet, can you handle the sight of human blood?”
Not waiting for her answer, Alex led the way into the bathroom, letting the bloodstained bandage on his back speak for itself. After a second, she followed him in.
As he handed her the first-aid kit he’d brought from the dungeon, his eyes narrowed.
That blank look, like a human whiteboard wiped of emotion, had returned the minute she’d seen his bare chest. She definitely had a problem.
Noting a sub’s responses was as automatic as breathing to a Dom, and her reaction to being punished—and to him—had been equivocal.
Her quite understandable fury had also included an unmistakable need to submit.
But the blank look, like the one she wore now, hadn’t appeared until he’d asked about why she’d run from a Dom.
He angled himself so he could watch her face in the wall mirror as she worked.
When she eased the thick gauze dressing off his back, she frowned. “How in the world did you get a cut like this?”
“I had an altercation at the airport. He had a knife.”
Life returned to her face as she cleaned the wound with efficient, easy movements. She obviously didn’t have a problem with blood or with touching a man in a nonsexual way. She glanced at him in the mirror, a trace of humor in her eyes. “Since you’re still breathing, I assume you won?”
Alex grinned. “I’m not sure I’d call it a win. Although he’s behind bars, I missed my flight. My luggage is on the plane. I couldn’t book another flight for two days.” He shook his head, ignoring the pain as she worked on his back. “There didn’t seem to be any point to 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.