Page 292 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 1

She smiled in relief. It was nothing so scary as him having been in her head or knowing her fantasies. He'd smelled her…arousal, and had wanted to satisfy her little kink. She felt a sudden rush of gratitude and affection for him. She leaned forward and gave him a shy peck on the cheek. “Thanks.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said with a satisfied little purr in his voice.

“So… is that your pleasure?” she asked timidly.

He laughed. “It's not my regular gig, but it's an easy role for me to step into. My name is Dom, after all.”

Kate looked confused for a moment, and then she chuckled a short nervous laugh. “I'd be your sub any day,” she said in an almost-whisper. His fangs lengthened, like he was turned on and he leaned forward and slowly, lightly ran a sharp tip along her collarbone, then down the vein to her breast as he pushed her bra aside with his hand.

In his home studio the next afternoon, he stared at Kate's visage in marble. He wished he'd carved fairy wings on her back. He hadn't seen it when he'd made her in wax, but now with the five-foot sculpture almost completely emerged from the marble, she looked just like a little sprite. And standing back, looking at her, he had a vision of Kate with several tiny fairies flickering around her. It was not a vision precisely, because he didn't see, except that he knew that the fairies were there and what they looked like. He shook his head rapidly. He hadn't been visited by psychic visions like that in hundreds of years. Not since he'd been turned. The skin on his arms prickled. Was it Kate who somehow inspired them? He picked up his riffler to work on the enormous task of refining her hair.

He'd carved the unsure Kate—she was looking up through her lashes with her automatic smile, and he'd somehow captured her eager to please nature. There had been no question that he was going to carve that Kate. He loved the strong performer side of her as well, but this one seemed more real, more personal, somehow.

Sculpting Kate had been a secret, guilty pleasure. It was an intimate act to hone the shape of someone's face and body with your tools. In this case, it was also a bit of an invasion of privacy, considering she didn't know he was doing it. He'd spent the past nine months absorbed with capturing every curve, every nuance of her and he probably had another three to go before he finished.

“Are you going to show her that?” Fox asked from behind him.

He didn't answer or turn around to acknowledge Fox's question. There was a note of censure in it, which he knew he deserved. He let the silence stretch between them.

“What's going on between you two?” Fox demanded.

Dom sighed and unbent himself from his position and set down his riffler. The last thing he needed was to get riled by Fox and gouge her. Because it had become her to him.

“It was just sex. We both wanted it and we acted on the impulse. That's all.”

“She deserves better than that.” Fox's voice was tight.

“I know,” he said, irritation threading through his own voice, more with himself than with Fox. “That's why I'm not going to do it again.”

“Why don't I believe that?” Fox folded his arms across his chest.

Dom didn't answer. He wasn't sure he believed it, either. He'd already broken his vow to stay away from her when he had sex with her that second time, after he found her crying on the top of the stairs. There was something about her that was so compelling. He couldn't bring himself to inflict the smaller hurt of keeping his distance, even though in the long run it would save her from a much larger pain. Because the fact was, he was nothing but bad for her. With a capital B. Vampire/mortal relationships were way too difficult to maintain. Kate was in her late twenties—the age these days when women started looking seriously for a long-term mate—and she deserved a real relationship with a man she could settle down and have a few kids with, if she wanted. Getting tangled up with him would only mean an eventual breakup when she realized that her life was stalled out. The last thing he wanted was for her to be hurt.

“I'll take care of it,” he sighed.

“What does that mean, exactly?” Fox said suspiciously.

He wished he knew. “It means I'll take care of it!” he snapped and leveled an alpha male stare at Fox until he lowered his eyes, albeit sullenly. Vampires were nothing but animals at their core, and Dom had been around longer than any in the U.S., and most all in the old country, too, which meant he was stronger and more powerful than the rest of them. And although he was hiding out in Tucson with his head in the sand about the rumors of trouble with the vampires in the old world, he was still the dominant. Fox and Stella had chosen to follow him here, which meant they lived under his authority.

Since his attempt at finding peace through sculpting had been shattered, he gave up on sculpting for the day and went downstairs to shower before he headed to the club.

There was a double set of doors at No Return, just like he had in his home, so that people could enter during the day without letting the sunlight in. The first door opened to a coatroom/foyer and then the second door into the actual club. Because of this feature, Dom could materialize from his home to the club or vice versa during daylight hours. He did it often enough, although he also liked to drive back and forth, too, in case any of the employees started wondering how he got around.

The club was a whole different scene during happy hour. A lot of regulars hung out and the vibe was casual and friendly—the intensity of nighttime was dialed down by half. They served simple bar food like quesadillas, nachos, and pizza slices for people who hung through dinnertime. Dom materialized into his locked office, which was guaranteed to be protected from any light, and then headed downstairs. Alex, his happy hour manager, was leaning on the bar, chatting up the regulars.

“Hey boss,” he said.

Dom walked behind the bar and fished a Dos Equis out of the beer cooler, squeezing a lime into it. Alex would've been more than happy to serve him, but Dom liked being hands on in his own club. He had worked every position so he knew the ins and outs of what they did, and what their challenges might be. Besides, working kept him busy and socializing. Otherwise, he'd never leave his house.

His immortal heart did a double-pump when he saw Kate walk through the door. She wasn't working at No Return tonight—Fox had said the Morphs were playing at Club Congress. Which meant she was probably there to see him. Or not—he shouldn't assume anything. He would just treat her like nothing had happened.

“Hey Kate. Ginger ale?”

“Sure,” she said, beaming at him. She was wearing a thin gray t-shirt that said “Boys Lie” and had horizontal rips all along the back. She had on a denim skirt and cowgirl boots underneath.

He poured the ginger ale and squeezed the lime into it. “Whatcha up to?” he asked casually.

She shrugged, her eyes too eager as they watched his face. This was bad. “We're playing at Congress tonight, so I thought I'd stop in early.”

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