Masters 02 Master of the Abyss (15 page)

Her sense of comfort disappeared when Jake returned, his arms filled with fabric. “Strip.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You know, we need to work on your social skills. You can’t snap out orders to a guest.”

“Oh. Was I too terse?” He cocked his head and gave her a mean smile. “Kalinda, you will remove every item of clothing immediately or suffer the consequences.”

She took a step back as the steely glint in his eyes did funny things to her heartbeat.

“Was that better?”

“Uh, not exactly what—”

“Now, Kalinda.”

Her mouth went dry.
But there’s only half an hour before supper
kept running through her head, as if that made a difference to someone like Jake. She unbuttoned her flannel shirt, shrugged it off, and removed her boots, socks, and jeans.

And then he got that disapproving expression again, as if the sight of her body displeased him. “Would you stop looking at me like that?” she burst out.

He lifted an eyebrow. “What way?”

“If you don’t like the way I look, why do I keep ending up—”

His laugh rang out, full and strong, and she balled her hand into a fist. If he tried to touch her, she’d belt him one.

He yanked her against him so quickly she didn’t have a chance. His ruthless hands roamed over her back and her butt, and her desire to punch him burned to ashes in the blast of heat.

“I love your body, sprite. So much that what you wear offends my senses.” He unfastened her bra and tossed it on the floor, then ripped her panties in two. “You have the ugliest underwear I’ve ever seen.”

“My underwear? You’ve been frowning at me for two years because of my
underwear
?”

He eyed her face and started laughing so hard that she swung at him. He caught her fist as easily as if it were a buzzing mosquito. “You hit me, sugar, and I’ll spank your ass—even if we’re late for supper.”

She tried to yank her hand out of his grasp and got nowhere, and then he palmed her right breast, teased the nipple, and turned her legs to water.

“And I not only dislike your underwear, but the rest of your wardrobe too. I understand the need for hiking gear when you’re hiking, but why don’t you wear girl clothes at other times?” He asked the question in an easy voice, but there was nothing casual about the way he scrutinized her.

She started to answer and stopped. “Well.” She vaguely remembered the last sexy top she’d bought, back as a teenager, and how her cousins had behaved, like she’d turned into a slut or something. “It’s easier”—
to not rock the boat
—“to stay in the same clothes.” She shrugged. “I don’t even own anything fancy.”

“Ah.” The sense of satisfaction that the sprite had never dressed provocatively for a man was a little unsettling. As was the impression that laziness had little to do with her choice of attire. “Well, if you like it easier, I’ll do all the work this time.”

That delightfully suspicious look appeared on her face—the one that said he had all the control and she didn’t think she should like it. Even if she trusted him completely, he’d still enjoy provoking her. A dom shouldn’t allow a sub to get too comfortable, after all. But in her case, it didn’t take much effort.

Right now, he intended not only to please himself by putting her in feminine clothing, but he wanted to see what effect a change of clothing would have on her. Push the boundaries a little. He paused. He shouldn’t be doing this.

And then he slid the bra he’d chosen up her arms and fastened it.

“You bought me underwear?” She sounded so appalled that he chuckled.

She stiffened when he reached into the cups to adjust her breasts, so he took his time until her nipples puckered under his palms. He stepped back to survey the results. The push-up bra gave her the prettiest cleavage, and when she looked down, her eyes got big.

Damn, she was cute.

He dropped a deep pink top over her head. The low neckline with an edging of lace framed her breasts nicely, and he nodded approval, then added a long, silky skirt.

“What is it with you guys and pink?” she muttered, staring at the clothes.

“It’s feminine,” he said, and pulled her to the bathroom mirror. “And a damned good color on you too.”

Her mouth formed an O as she took in her appearance. The top hugged her breasts and waist, and the dark pink skirt flowed smoothly over her grabable, full ass.

“What about…briefs?”

“You’ll go without tonight,” Jake said.

She whipped around. “I can’t go without underwear.”

He crossed his arms and stared her down, enjoying the way her eyes lowered. The flush of pink in her cheeks now matched her skirt. “You can. You will. Because that’s how I want it.”

She swallowed.

He stepped back and smiled, showing her the pleasure he found in her appearance. “You look lovely, Kallie. You’re a beautiful woman. Now and then you might give us poor men a treat and dress like one.”

That she should look so confounded saddened him. Hadn’t anyone ever complimented her beauty?

“Thank you,” she said softly. Then her stubborn little chin rose. “But why no panties?”

He stepped closer and cupped her cheek and whispered back, “So that when I decide to take you—downstairs or up here—there’s nothing in my way.”

Her response was beautiful…and now he’d have to suffer from having a hard-on all through supper.
Hell.

* * *

On the day before the Fourth, he settled into a chair beside his tent in his favorite Yosemite campground. He’d start a fire, make some supper. Then maybe hike one more time before sundown. The forests comforted him and dimmed the discordant noise in his head. One or two years ago—he lost track of time—he’d realized the clamor and the incoherent voices came from the evil ones. Some people, like him, could sense demonic energy—could actually hear it.

He’d enjoyed the short hike he’d just taken, and the peaceful trail had allowed his tension to ease away.

But now a woman’s shrill voice scraped across his nerves. He turned and spotted the young couple at the campsite next to him. The woman wore a purple tank top that displayed her lush breasts, and her hair spilled over her shoulders. Her dark, dark hair. Her voice grew louder as she deliberately yelled at her poor boyfriend in front of their tent, right out where everyone could witness the man’s humiliation.

He watched as the demon rose inside her and peeked out of her brown eyes, so clearly visible he was surprised everyone didn’t scream and run. But no one else saw. This was his gift—his curse.

As the demon screamed in a mind-piercing voice, the boyfriend hunched his shoulders, clenching his hands at his side. Short but muscular, the young man could have flattened her with one blow, but no, men didn’t hit women. The fool. Couldn’t he see that his girlfriend wasn’t there anymore, that a demon had shredded her soul into such darkness that it shone through her eyes?

No, instead the man simply took her abuse, feeling like a failure. A loser. Less of a man.

He couldn’t let that continue, and it would. Over and over until the man had nothing left, as the demon tore his spirit down with words and screams and insults.

Face set into calm lines, he watched her give one last high shriek and then stalk off on one of the myriad of trails leading away from the campground. Her poor victim walked into the tent. A minute later, a rolled-up sleeping bag hit the ground outside. Then a backpack. The boyfriend obviously planned to leave.

Another brother hurt, perhaps damaged forever.

He leaned forward and laced his hands together. The evil had gone up the trail, and the miasma of her passing floated above the ground, an ugly dark green like a bruise. His duty was clear; the world would be a better place without her.

In his jeans, his manhood hardened. He hated disposing of demons, of the noise, the smells, the darkness—but the heavens had provided compensation, showing him that his way was right. The scream of the demons sent masculine heat through his body, and over the years, he had grown to anticipate the battles. And the time afterward when he would show in an unmistakable way that he had the victory.

Taking his time, he wandered across the clearing and headed up the adjacent trail. Once out of sight, he slipped through the thin forest until he came to the trail the dark-haired woman had used. A heavy branch offered itself for his weapon, and he picked it up. The foul scent beckoned him onward.

Dark would come soon.

* * *

Carrying a platter of raw hamburger patties, Kallie stepped out their back door onto the low cedar deck. The hum of conversation was broken by the occasional clanking of a horseshoe and victorious shout, the screams of the younger children enjoying the waterslide, and yells of disappointment at missing a Frisbee catch or a badminton swing. The scent of barbequing meat filled the evening air, and her stomach growled. Maybe she’d have a moment to eat soon.

She set the platter on the to-be-cooked table to the right of the massive barbecue. Clad in a chef’s apron, liberally stained with grease and catsup, Morgan grinned at her and flipped another burger before returning to his conversation with Gina.

Kallie bent to pet Mufasa, who had positioned himself strategically close to the barbecue, where Morgan could toss tidbits, especially when reminded by a paw placed firmly on his sneaker. The cat rubbed her hand and then returned his attention to important matters.

After transferring cooked burgers and hot dogs to the long buffet table, she checked the offerings with the experience of a decade of Fourth of July parties. The ice under the salad section was maintaining well, enough buns were available, condiments not empty. Red, white, and blue paper plates and napkins vied with the sparkling pinwheels lined down the center. Parties went in three stages: first families with small children, secondly the ones with older children, and finally adults without children and older teens to close down the night. The first wave of hungry people had already gone through.

“Hey, Kallie, hold up a second.” Gina patted Morgan’s butt before trotting over.

“How are you?” Kallie asked.

“Not bad.” Gina pursed her lips and gave Kallie a once-over. “And you’re looking very, very good.”

Kallie flushed. “Thanks. Feels weird though.” Just before lunch, Rebecca had arrived like a military godmother with a mission, wielding makeup and clothing like advanced weaponry. Before leaving, she’d mentioned that prior to artist and cook, she’d been a manager.
No kidding.

“Maybe, but you’re getting a lot of interested looks.” Hands on her hips, Gina surveyed the pickings of men with an experienced eye. “And there are a lot more single guys this year to be looking. Nice job.”

Kallie grinned. Some people were so easy to please. “Virgil has two of his cop friends here—the other two and the chief had to work—and Wyatt invited his buddies from the black-powder rifle club.” She nodded to the group of guys around Wyatt, most of them bearded, one with hair braided halfway down his back. “They had a great time this morning shooting and throwing tomahawks and knives.” And Wyatt had dragged her down to show off how well he’d taught her to throw a knife.

“Mmmmh, mountain men. The one in the red T-shirt is downright hot. Then again, the two men in buckskins look really…primitive.” Gina fanned herself.

“Stop drooling, or I’ll get you a bib.”

“Hey, a girl’s gotta look.” Gina licked her lips. “And mmmhmm, there’s a gorgeous sight.”

Kallie followed her gaze. Logan and Rebecca walked around the side of the house. Then she saw Jake, and her libido gave a massive roar like a Harley that someone’s boot had kick-started. She couldn’t blame Gina for lusting after him. The summer had darkened his skin and put gold streaks in his collar-length brown hair. He’d dressed fairly casually in jeans and a white polo shirt, where the sleeves stretched around his hard biceps in a way that made her fingers want to touch.

“I’ve never seen them at any party before,” Gina commented. “Only the ClaimJumper now and then.”

As Wyatt sauntered over to greet the Hunts, Kallie said, “I got the impression they’re more sociable now because of Rebecca.” Standing here gawking at the man wouldn’t do, especially since she had no idea of her place in his life. Him and his damned “for one night only” rules. Did he want her to ignore him or pretend to be a casual acquaintance?

This was so confusing.

“Well, I’m going to be…sociable…and say hi to Jake,” Gina said, her eyes bright. “It’s been a couple of months since we went out last; maybe I’m close to the top of the rotation.”

Oh. Damn
. “Ah, Gina?”

“Yeah?” Gina paused.

“Never mind.” What could she say? That the man had taken her so many times that her jeans rubbed uncomfortably over her still-swollen private parts? Yesterday morning, he’d kissed her good-bye, and she hadn’t understood the look he’d given her. All the way home, she’d worried over it. Had that been a the-night’s-over-and-so-is-our-time-together look or a this-was-wonderful-I’ll-be-calling-you look. She’d sure jumped to the wrong conclusion last time.

If she went over there, he’d probably give her another of those chilly greetings. Maybe she should encourage Gina to have at him?
No no no
. Before she could decide, Gina sashayed over to hug Rebecca and say hi to Logan. Then she turned on the flirt switch for Jake.

When Jake greeted Gina, his smile lightened his lean face. Kallie’s throat constricted.
Not mine. Never mine
. Maybe she’d go check on the kitchen for a few minutes. To provide an excuse for fleeing the scene, Kallie picked up a dish that had held cherry pie. Stepping back, she bumped into someone. “Oh. Sorry.”

The guy in the red T-shirt, one of Wyatt’s friends from the mountain-man club, grinned down at her. “Totally my pleasure. You can bump into me anytime you want.”

She blinked at his flirtatious expression and smiled.
Thank you, God
. Right now she needed someone to help make her feel attractive. “I saw you shooting a muzzle loader earlier. You’re good.”