Dom Wars: Round Five Read online

  "Depends. What are we doing?"

  "Your lessons begin tonight. Follow me." He shouldered a pack and set off for the woods at a fast pace.

  A lesson. Shit. The last thing I wanted was a midnight hike. I went after him, unwilling to tempt his wrath at the moment. And was that damn wolf pack on the hunt? Howls and yips echoed back and forth through the night and gave me chills. Wonderful.

  A few hundred yards into the woods, the Preacher stopped and looked around for a moment. "This'll do." He pointed to a thick tree, multiple trunks merged into one, covered with knots and low broken branches. "Climb."

  "What?"

  "Climb. The fucking. Tree." The look on his face slammed out of the past to rattle me. My old man wore the same one when he was being a nasty, abusive bastard.

  I shrugged around the sick feeling in my gut and pulled back the rebellion that burned to be set free. If I didn't do what he wanted, he could take it out on Tara or Steve. "What-the-fuck-ever." He wanted me to climb a tree, I'd climb a fucking tree. Not a problem.

  Approaching the tree, I checked for the best angle with hand- and footholds. Satisfied I'd found the fastest way up, I put one foot on a protruding knot and propelled myself up to grab onto a branch slightly higher than I could reach from the ground.

  Excruciating pain shot through my left palm and I roared before dropping back to the ground, holding my hand up for inspection. Blood welled around half a dozen things sticking out of my palm. "What the fuck?"

  The Preacher came close and grabbed my hand to look. Before I could object, he took hold of one of the things and pulled it out. A thick spike, between two and three inches long, nearly pencil sized at the base. "Thorn tree," he mumbled. He removed the other thorns, each one burning like a hot poker, the puncture wounds bleeding freely.

  He turned without a word and walked away, clearly demanding that I follow. Bastard. Just like the old man. Keeping my injured hand cradled up against my chest, I complied, determined to prove I could take anything he dished out.

  A few yards further, he stopped again and pointed. "That one. Climb."

  My hand burned, ached and still bled. Not to mention it felt like it was swelling fast. Like hell he'd get the satisfaction of knowing that.

  A low hanging branch offered the perfect opportunity to get into the tree. With one foot against the trunk for leverage, I managed to swing up with just my right hand. No thorns. The skills I'd learned in childhood returned and I managed to climb fairly easily, despite my reluctance to use my left hand.

  When I was as high as I could safely go, I stopped and looked down at the preacher. He sat on the ground, illuminated in the moonlight, whittling. Bastard. "What now?"

  "Come back down." His voice was a rumbling bore.

  Really? Useless bullshit exercises. Just like the old man. Going down was harder than climbing, and around the halfway mark, a splintered branch raked along my shinbone, taking skin off through my fucking jeans. Involuntary reaction nearly toppled me out of the tree but I managed to make it the rest of the way down.

  Once on the ground, I pulled up my pant leg to see the damage. The branch had taken a wide strip of skin and flesh. I straightened to find the preacher still whittling. Annoyance shot through me.

  "What now?"

  "Climb it again."

  I stared at him. "Really."

  This time he looked up. "I said climb it again." Back to whittling. "Just so you know, Bane, this can be as easy or as hard as you like. Cooperate and do as you're told, learn the lesson, and it'll be over quickly. Resist and it will go on all night."

  Turning my back to him I shook my head. "Bullshit. I'm going back to camp."

  Three steps later, a monumental force hit between my shoulders and took me straight to the ground. Steel bands circled my neck and forced my head up.

  "Listen motherfucker. You will do what I say. You will take your training, which is punishment in this case for not obeying earlier orders. And you will not involve your woman in our business. That would be very unwise. Do I make myself clear?"

  Nightmare images of what this bastard could do to Tara shot through my head. "Crystal," I choked against the hold on my throat.

  He released me abruptly. "Now get the fuck up and climb that tree."

  I got slowly to my feet, mentally searching for a way out. Nothing. The wolves howled again, sounding a little closer. Ignoring the primal fear they inspired, I climbed the fucking tree. Again. And again. And again. Each climb was accompanied by a scripture and plenty of bullshit I had no interest in hearing.

  By the tenth time I came down, I was certain the wolves were coming closer and also certain I was so exhausted to nearly not give a shit. But thoughts of the wolves going to camp said it was time to end this shit and get back to camp. "I'm done."

  "The hell you are. Bane, you're still failing to get the point. I am Top Dom here. You do as I say when I say. And you had better remember I'm not your father."

  Fucking low blow. "You might be Top Dom, but this is ridiculous. And in case you hadn't noticed, that wolf pack is coming closer. I don't intend to be here when they come." I turned and started walking for camp, braced for that same impact from earlier. It didn't come. I slowed, waiting for something.

  "Then Tara will finish your punishment for you."

  I froze, keeping my head lowered, not turning. Fucker.

  "Or you can come back here and take it like a man. Dom up Bane. Learn to take orders." He gave a deep chuckle. "What's the matter? Subbing too hard for the big bad Dom?"

  My hand gave a particularly nasty throb. Both of my shins were torn all to hell. And he thought there was something to be learned? He could think that all he wanted, but it was bullshit. And he would never bring Tara into it. I turned back.

  He stood there with a rope coiled in his hands. "Get your back against the tree."

  "For what?"

  "I swear to fucking God if you question me one more time, I won't ask, I'll just go get Tara and drag her out here and tie her to this fucking tree."

  Submitting to abuse was not my strong fucking suit. But I forced my legs over to the tree and put my back against it.

  Grinning like a devil, he took a loop around one wrist, circled the tree and bound my other wrist. The rope pulled tight, but not unbearably so. I could live with it. Then he did the same with my ankles.

  "I'll see you at dawn." He stalked off through the woods.

  Holy fuck! Anger insisted I scream insults after him, but the threat to Tara kept me silent. My injured hand throbbed, blood still oozing. Standing there, every cut and scrape stung and burned, and one particularly deep gash to the inside of my forearm still trickled blood as well.

  I shifted my shoulders as a mosquito worked really hard at sucking me dry. Even with all my squirming to keep the bugs off, it barely worked slack into the ropes. I let my head drop back against the trunk, braced my legs, and closed my eyes.

  The preacher's words rang in my head. Submitting too hard for the big bad Dom? Fucker. Fucker because it was hard for me. Not with Tara, but with people like him. Like my father who didn't really give a shit about me. Tara, I knew she cared. It made submitting to her a fucking treat. Submitting was only hard when it came to submitting to the wrong thing. And this was wrong. Which is why I hated it. Same reason I hated my father's bullshit authority. Same. Exact. Thing. Only difference with the Preacher was the weird fucking way he added scripture to the task. And if it wasn't for his smirky ass attitude, I might not mind so much. But to do this, over not following one fucking order was over the top nuts. This didn't make me want to submit one fucking bit. I only did it for Tara. That was it. Tara made me submit.

  He was sure wrong if he thought I was scared of him. I couldn't help be grateful that he at least seemed to possess a thread of humanity that occasionally showed up and prevented him from realizing the full potential of that animal lurking within him.

  Time passed, but I had no idea how much. I'd grown incredibly stiff and sore
standing there like that. I listened, trying to pinpoint whatever had roused me. Some sound. Just as I'd started to relax again, figuring it was a dream, a howl sounded off to my left, not far enough away.

  An answering howl came from a few hundred yards to my right of the first.

  My blood froze right in my veins. Two wolves. Close. Smelling my blood? No fucking doubt and I was pretty sure they'd just informed the whole pack. Even now, a chorus of replies rang out from various parts of the woods. Hope it wasn't my blood they'd picked up. Maybe they'd found my blood by the first tree. I'd left a clear trail to my current location with that wound. Where I stood helpless and defenseless, bound and waiting to be supper.

  My gut churned and my throat ached. Yelling for the preacher, for help, would only spur the ultimate predators on.

  A faint rustling snuffling noise caught my attention, drawing steadily closer. Holy fuck, it was just outside my range of vision, and circling around. Smart bastard. It smelled blood and fear, and figured I was incapacitated, so it didn't waste effort with stealth. Or maybe it was deliberately trying to scare me more. Either way, it worked. Cold sweat chilled my skin while my heart pounded out of control.

  The urge to hold my breath hit about the time a pale wolf moved into view. It stood staring, its head up and scenting the air. After a few seconds, it blinked, dropped its head and moved a little closer.

  "Go on! Get out of here!" I shouted. "Preacher, you better get the fuck back here! This wolf wants me for supper!" I put all my rage toward the preacher, my father, and Dom Wars into that yell.

  The wolf whined a little and moved back and dropped to its belly, waiting and watching. It wasn't afraid because it had a whole pack not far away. Another one yipped in the close distance, and more howls followed.

  When the wolf watching me sat up on its haunches with an eager whine, I started yelling in earnest. A second one came out of the trees and greeted my watcher with wagging tail and sniffs.

  Family reunion completed, the pair of wolves approached, heads down and wary of all the noise I was making. If I'd been able to throw a stick or rock or something, they might have kept their distance. But since I did nothing but make noise, they advanced, bolder with each step.

  They paused a few feet away, then one darted in and nipped, tugging at my pant leg, ripping away a mouthful of denim along with another roar of sheer terror in the form of the word Preacher!

  The newcomer suddenly darted in and grabbed a mouthful of my pant leg. I yelled even louder, and jumped as much as my bonds would allow. Startled a little, it leaped back, tearing away another strip of denim.

  In that instant, the secret that makes wolves the ultimate predators revealed itself. While my attention was on the newcomer and what it was doing, the first came in close for a slashing bite at my other leg. Teeth tore through my jeans and into my skin with white-hot intensity, tearing a hoarse cry of agony and fear from my throat.

  Something big moved nearby, bigger than the wolves. I managed to open my eyes for a glimpse, and spied the first wolf lying on its side while dark liquid spread from under it. Glancing around warily, I spotted the second beast just as it made a leap for something large just out of my line of sight.

  A muffled curse reached me, then a series of thuds and yelps ensued. The wolf raced away across the area in front of me, tail tucked and ears down.

  "You still alive, Bane?" The preacher stalked around the tree, one hand clamped around his opposite forearm.

  A rush of pure relief flooded me. "Motherfucker, I told you those wolves were too close."

  Instead of answering, he just cut me lose. "Injuries?"

  "A bite, just above my knee. Hurt like the devil but I don't think it's too serious." I moved gingerly, restoring circulation and taking stock of all the bumps and bruises and scrapes that were suddenly throbbing and burning with a vengeance. The bite was negligible compared to the intense agony in my left hand.

  Preacher shook his head and dropped his pack to pull out a field first aid kit. In just over a minute, he had a bandage tied around his own right forearm. He switched on the little LED headlamp he wore, and dropped to one knee before adjusting it to illuminate the shredded denim above my knee. Looking annoyed, he took hold of each side of the tear with a quick jerk, and ripped it further open.

  "Now, hold still." After a quick look, he shook his head. "You need stitches, but I figure we shouldn't linger here. The rest of that pack won't be far away. I'm going to wrap it tight and get you out of here. I'll glue it shut back at camp."

  "Glue it?"

  He unwrapped a thick gauze pad and placed it on the bite, and started wrapping a rolled bandage to hold it in place. "It's a common and effective fix.

  When he finished, I felt like my leg had a hot coal from the campfire tied inside that bandage. I took an experimental step and nearly fell on my face.

  Without a word, the preacher drug my arm across his shoulder and helped me walk. It was rough, slow going and several times he stopped to let me rest. At one point, after I caught my breath, I asked the question that had been driving me nuts.

  "How'd you know to come back?"

  "Come back? Man, I didn't go nowhere. Well, not far. I stopped a hundred yards away and waited for you to grow a brain. Too bad the wolves interrupted the process." He started off again, forcing me to concentrate on staying upright.

  Fine, my questions would wait.

  Chapter Nine

  I bit my lip in anger to keep from cussing as Lucian stumbled in the small tent, trying to get his pants up over his horrific injuries. He'd informed me of his midnight escapade even after the Preacher had assured me it was something he was forced to do for the Dom Wars game or we'd all pay a far heavier cost. If I had had a clue he'd done this, I would have never let it happen. Whoever heard of gluing wounds shut? And that hand would need to be watched.

  Despite that, selfish hunger erupted inside me at seeing the muscles along his torso and arms ripple beneath his silky skin. Silky white skin. I'd never guessed a white man could look so good. Tanned skin had always been my thing. Until Lucian. Delicious man that he was.

  "I want to teach you something."

  The memory of those words made my clit throb. I slid my legs together with need at remembering what he'd done. Tormented me with those slow sexy strokes. I couldn't see clearly but what I could make out was just enough to make him look like some glowing white god. Feeling the ridges in his cock was unlike anything, and then when he slid his nails along my vertebrae I don't know what happened but holy moly, it was white, hot, and mind blowing.

  "Fuck, sweetheart."

  I jerked my gaze up to his and found him staring at me, pained looking.

  "What in God's name are you thinking about?" He shook his head. "No, God, don't tell me. We have to fucking leave and I'll trip over my dick if you tell me what I already know you're thinking, but heaven help me I can't take hearing you say it."

  Wanting to take his mind of his obvious physical pain, I smiled and pulled my legs back, sliding my finger over my extremely slick folds. He gasped, a look of incredulous fury on his face, jabbing a finger at me. "Stop it Tara. I mean it. That's so fucking mean baby," he hissed harshly before stooping and throwing a pillow at me.

  I laughed and got on my knees, rubbing my breasts. He lunged forward and embraced me to his naked torso then spanked me really hard. "OUCH FUCK!"

  "You so fucking deserved that, don't be cruel to me."

  I shoved him away, rubbing the heat on my butt. "I should punch you."

  "You already did!" He grabbed his dick, agony on his cute face again.

  I bit my lip and giggled, finding my clothes. "We're even but you spank me that hard again and I will make you sorry."

  "Promise, love?"

  "I do. Now get out before I dress in front of you."

  He jerked his hands up, gladly surrendering to those terms and hurrying out. I got dressed, my face soon hurting with the huge smile I couldn't suppress.

 
; Wow. I was so. Happy.

  I came out the tent to the sound of arguing at the back of the Hummer where Steve poked through one of the black duffels with the Gladiator logo on the side.

  "Figure it out?" Steve shrilled facing Lucian? "I don't want to wing this, we need a direct…plan." He karate chopped his palm.

  "Fine," Lucian threw up his hands with a shrug. "What you got?"

  Steve sighed and scratched his wrist with a rabid fury, then brightened with wide eyes when he saw me. "Tara, tell him we need a plan, a real one." He waved me toward them. "I mean we don't even know how we're going to get a meeting with these girls much less convince them they need to buy dildos from us." He snapped his head to Lucian. "Did you think of that? How will we even get an audience with those girls?"

  Lucian looked at me like I had that answer. "Ummm," How to establish a meeting with these girls, these…odd looking girls. "Can we… call and ask to present a business proposal? Maybe?"

  Steve raised his brows. "To sell a line of dildos at their toy company?"

  "Or open a separate business for adult toys," Lucian said, widening his stance and crossing his arms with a stubborn stance. "Still toys."

  Steve gasped once, then again while raking his nails along his neck. "And what do you think is going to happen when the media gets a hold of this business venture?" He dusted his hands together. "Bye bye family trusted name brand, hello Bo-bo the dildo blow up clown."

  I bit my lip and looked at Lucian who lowered his head in erupted snickers.

  "Ah see?" Steve said. "You can't even think about it without laughing at the stupidity of it. It's absurd, comically—ab-surd. And that is what we will face with these ladies if we don't have a very clear and miraculous plan of action."

  "Well, I got the miraculous taken care of," Preacher said from behind us at the campfire. "My most dire prayers go before you."

  "Aha!" Steve wheeled and pointed at him. "Even you know this is hopeless, I can hear it in your voice."

  The preacher grinned from his spot on the log. "With man this may be impossible. But with God…" he blew at the tip of a freshly sharpened arrow, "all things are possible."