Beauty Submits To Her Beast (17 page)

Caitie laughed gently. “I think you’ve been claimed.” She reached down and helped Damon to his feet. She handed him the reins. “She’s yours.”

“What?” This time when the animal butted against him, he was braced and ready.

“While you’re here, you are responsible for her care. You’ll feed her, clean her stall, exercise her, groom her, make her feel safe, and teach her to trust and love.”

“That’s a tall order for a couple hours.” He eyed the mare and swore he felt a connection as he stared into her large, soft, brown eyes.

Caitlin patted his shoulder. “Oh, I think you’ll be here longer.”

The sound of wheels crunching gravel had him whipping around. “Dammit.” Glorie rolled down her window. “I packed what I could for you while you were in the shower.” She wrinkled her nose. “Might need to wash most of them first.” She waggled her fingers, then she and her car shot down the drive toward the highway.

Dusty joined them, holding a large duffel bag. “Yer with me, young man. Let’s get the two of you settled.”

Getting him and his horse settled meant taking him into the barn and teaching him to groom the horse, then feed her, and a rundown of the daily schedule and his assigned duties. He’d listened, done as ordered, and planned to tell Caitlin Olsen just what she could do with her plan to save him.

But after his chores, he’d been shown to a dormitory-style room with eight double beds spaced along two sides. Each section had a dresser, smaller table, and lamp.

“You’ll sleep here. Yo, Gunny.” Dusty’s raspy voice rose to a holler.

A large man with skin of dark caramel ambled over. He had his shirt slung over his shoulder. The words Semper Fi were tattooed across his damp chest. “Yo back, Dusty.” He eyed Damon from dark eyes.

“Got us a new guy. Ex-Navy SEAL Damon Steele meet ex-Gunnery Sergeant Javon Washington.

“SEAL, huh? Don’t got us one of them around here. Welcome to CCOB.”

Damon frowned. “What is CCOB?”

“Caitie’s Club of Boys.” Javon grinned broadly, his teeth starkly white against his dark skin.

Damon started to tell the man he was mistaken, that he was only here for the night, that tomorrow he’d hike out of here if that was his only way out, Dusty slapped him on the back. “Give this tadpole the tour. Show him the laundry room and showers. You’ll find a schedule and a list of duties in the drawer beside your bed, and Gunny here will add you to the chore roster. Dinner in an hour.”

Before Damon could protest to being called a tadpole, which is what a SEAL hopeful was when entering BUD/S—Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL—training, and to being handed over to yet another stranger, Dusty was gone and Javon was striding down the middle of the room.

He turned and cocked one brow. “You coming? No shower, no food. No chores, no food. Let’s go. I be starved.”

Sighing, Damon followed. What the hell for, he didn’t know. If Caitlin Olsen thought she could trap him out here, toss him into the barracks, and avoid him, she was mistaken. He’d have it out with her before the night was over.

The large locker-style room—minus the lockers—held a wall of sinks, showers, and toilets that resembled tiny closets with barely enough room to turn around in. The laundry room boasted four sets of washers and dryers, and finally, the dining room had one long table. By the time he’d showered, got his laundry done, was handed his weekly list of chores, and had eaten and been introduced to half a dozen other men, he was exhausted, yet restless.

Outside, dark had fallen. He stared at the house in the distance. Caitlin’s house. Why the hell had she dumped him in the bunkhouse instead of having him stay with her? What the fuck? Bad enough to gang up on him with Glorie and Bryce and take away his choice, but to then dump him out here like a hired hand?

Nope. Not going to happen. He strode down the path, intending to have it out with her. As he neared the barn, he heard the high whinny of a horse. Frowning, he stopped. The mare he was in charge of was in there. He detoured inside and found her stomping and agitated in her stall. The moment she spotted him, she tossed her head and slammed against the stall door.

“What’s with you? Don’t like strange places?” He rubbed her nose, relieved when she calmed. She butted her head against him. “Don’t blame you.”

Anger burned in his gut. He didn’t like feeling as if he’d been dumped and abandoned.

Leaning against the stall door, he realized he felt abandoned all over again. Not just by his friends but by the woman he’d come to care about. Maybe it had been all about the sex on her part. But why bring him here? And if she wanted to help him, why wasn’t he with her?

“Going to go find out.” He took two steps away and stopped when the mare let out a shrill cry. He returned to her. “Look, I can’t hang out here all god-damned night.”

Yet it became clear she wasn’t going to allow him to leave.

Swearing, he entered her stall, piled up some straw in one corner, and slid down. “Only for a while.”

The mare nuzzled his shoulder and exhaled, a deep fluttering breath as man and beast fell into exhausted slumber.

****

Caitie rode in from doing her rounds, checking on the horses out in the various pastures. The day was warmer than normal, and she was already hot and sweaty. She slowed her horse as they rode past one of the smaller, round pens. In the center, Damon, stripped to the waist, his chest gleaming a golden brown in the sun, worked with his mare on a long lead. Javon, wearing a tank, his huge arms bulging, took the lead to demonstrate
longeing, a training technique, in this case for both horse and man. The
horse reared and fought the line.

Damon stepped forward, grabbed the lead, and walked toward the horse, talking softly. When she calmed, he resumed his place beside the ex-marine and, using his body to signal the mare, got her trotting in a circle around him.

Smiling, Caitie was pleased to see that horse and man had bonded and that Damon seemed to be a natural. She listened as Javon called out instructions, corrected Damon when needed, and grunted his approval.

She wanted more than anything to be the one in the ring teaching Damon how to put his horse through her paces and be the one to teach him to ride and even take him out and show him her ranch. But she kept her distance.

It had been tempting to have him stay with her in her house where she could take care of him, be there during the night when his nightmares claimed him, or help ease the pain in his thigh, but having him here wasn’t about sex or fulfilling her needs or wishes. Her focus was on giving the man she loved what he needed to find himself, and he wouldn’t have done that with her hovering.

She learned from Dusty he’d spent his first few nights in the stall with the mare and, in the two weeks he’d been here, had settled into the bunkhouse. Her instincts had been spot on. The other vets who’d arrived just as damaged had taken him in hand. Damon worked from sun up to sun down with no time left to wallow or feel sorry for himself.

And when he had nightmares, he found support. Or as Dusty said, the men formed their own therapy group. They gave him what she couldn’t. Understanding and a comradery only another military man could feel and give. She smiled. He might not know it, but he’d taken the first step to healing.

Putting another life, even that of an animal, first, above his own problems would help him accept the past and move on. And being around others who had their own demons would make him feel less alone or broken.

When Javon called a halt, Damon led the mare out of the pen. His gaze met hers and clashed. His were filled with resentment and heat. She wanted to go to him, cup his face in her hands, kiss him, and tell him he was doing great, but she didn’t dare, so she yanked on the reins and rode away.

****

Damon watched Caitlin ride off, his temper rising. Every time he tried to go to her, to have it out with her, give her a piece of his mind, someone was giving him an order or asking him a question, or he had some stupid-ass chore to do. If he neared the barn, his mare seemed to know it was him and called. And like a doomed man under a witch’s spell, he went to her.

“What the hell is it with you females,” he muttered. One needed him close, the other was pushing him away. He narrowed his eyes. He’d be damned if she kept ignoring him and treating him like the rest of the men who were proud to be
Caitie’s Boys
.

Fuck. He wasn’t a boy thrilled to be in some secret boys-only club. Only clubs he belonged to were ones where he was a Dom and in charge. It was about time
Caitie
remembered he was a Dom. Her Dom, dammit. He should march into her office tonight and order her to bend over her desk. His dick stirred at the thought of taking her from behind, seeing her wet, pink pussy begging for his cock.

Fuck. Now he was hard as a rock. He’d been on edge since arriving, his body taut with need for Caitlin. That need grew more urgent with each passing day until he thought he might just snap like the string of a violin. Only by falling into an exhausted sleep was he able to keep his needs under tight control. A nudge to his shoulder reminded him he needed to groom Bella.

He did a mental eye roll. His horse, his name choice, Dusty had informed him. He’d had no idea what to call the horse. He’d never had a pet of his own. So he chose Belle, or Bella.

“Stupid sap,” he muttered, leading the way to the barn. The motions of grooming soothed and calmed him. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t felt as at peace with himself or the world as he did while working with his mare.

His. No one had ever given him a pet, and he didn’t think of Bella as a pet but as a friend. Two needy creatures shoved together. And it was time he had a few words with another woman he’d viewed as a friend. And more.

So when the sun lowered in the sky and all his chores were done, he slipped out of the bunkhouse and headed toward the house, and yes, detoured into the barn and grabbed a carrot from the bin in the fridge and gave Bella her treat. “Now, behave for a while. I’ve got another woman to see.”

Reaching the door to her house, he entered through the kitchen. He knew from watching her she spent her evenings in her office, often working long into the night. Yet, she was up before the crack of dawn. He recalled the tired droop to her shoulders earlier and the dark circles beneath her eyes.

He shook his head. She ran this ranch with the skill and training of a commanding officer. There wasn’t a single aspect of the ranch she didn’t know or handle. Dusty was her second in command, but she was very much in charge. Her need to take on a submissive role during sex made so much sense, as did her natural inclination to fight that need. It was time to remind her of that little fact.

Reaching her office, he leaned against the door jam. “We need to talk, Caitlin.” He kept his tone cool and formal, even though in his mind, she’d become Caitie.

She glanced up from her ledger. “Damon. What are you doing here?”

“Having a long-overdue conversation.” He noted she looked even more tired than earlier, as though she hadn’t been sleeping well or had been putting in too many hours. Both, he’d guess.

“Um, you shouldn’t be here. You know the rules.”

“Yeah, the Caitie Club rules. But I’m not part of that club. You may have finagled a way to get me here, and I’ll admit, maybe it wasn’t a bad idea, but I’m not one of your hired hands. Am I, Caitlin?”

She leaned back in her chair. “No, Damon, you’re not,” she said softly.

“Then why are you avoiding me. Why am I over there, with the Caitie Club guys, and not here with you, sharing your bed?”

She stood, went to her window, and glanced out. “You need time to heal.”

“Bullshit.” He crossed the room and turned her around to face him. “You don’t think I can heal around you? That’s it better for me to be there instead of here? Are you sure it’s not because you’re tired of me? Or maybe you really didn’t like what we did during that three-day weekend.”

Caitie lifted one brow. “You know very well I loved everything we did. For your information, you are the one who walked out on me. You left the ball and didn’t come back. You never even said good-bye, Damon. What was I supposed to think?”

The stark truth hit him hard. It was true. He’d left without a backward glance. How could he explain he’d been thinking of her? He paced away from her, then back.

“You’re right.” He felt ashamed and a bit helpless. How could he fix this? And fix it he would. He needed this woman and everything she had to offer.

“Why, Damon?” She leaned against the windowsill.

“Because I couldn’t tango with you.”

She blinked.

He held up his hand. “Because you made me realize I wanted what I couldn’t have, couldn’t give you what you deserve. I can barely take care of myself, let alone be responsible for someone like you.”

He strode back and forth, barely aware of his limp, which was always worse at night, at least until Dusty got his hands on it with that god-awful smelling horse crap. But he had to admit, the scar lesions were breaking up, and the pain had already lessened.

“I vowed never to put myself in the position where someone else’s happiness or life could be screwed up by my actions or lack of actions.” And that meant living in a vacuum. His short time at the ranch, talking with others who had eerily the same issues, had taught him he was simply sinking deeper into his own dark pit.

“And now?

Seeing the pain in her eyes, and yes, the longing, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, be her Dom, and take some of the responsibilities from her. But he was afraid of her rejection. Him, a Navy SEAL known for his cool detachment under fire. “I’m dealing. For the first time since I was injured, I’m dealing with it.”

He stepped closer to her, reached out, and cupped her face in his hands. “I was so angry, so damn resentful, and even felt betrayed.”
Abandoned.

“You could have left. Had you really not wanted to stay, Dusty or one of the men would have taken you home.” Her eyes searched his.

“Or I could have hiked to the road and found my way back.” He grimaced. “Planned on doing just that.”