Dom Wars Round Five (2 page)

He bit his lower lip with brows
pinched in desperation. He finally gave a faint nod. "Ok." He sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I knew somehow it would all come to this. I should never have answered that devil's ad. I am the son of minister, and I have no business here. But…"

We stared at him, waiting
for the confession that hung in the air.

"
Truth is…" Many awkward seconds passed until he appeared tormented and near tears, mouth open with words he clearly didn't ever want to vocalize.

"
There, there," Tara whispered, "take your time. Talk to us, we're your friends."

He looked from her to me then finally blurted out the words.
"I'm about to lose my home and my wife is going to leave me if I don't find a way to save it." The ugly secret was hissed in a shameful desperation that sagged his ever-proud frame.

I stood there, fighting
anger. Fuck. Just fuck. One more pitiful goddamn reason to have to say yes. I stared at Tara who gave me a look that said
aww now we HAVE to go on. For Steve.

I glared at her
, pissed as I jabbed a finger in her face. "We quit if that monster of the loin-cloth even
hints
at touching you. Do you understand?"

She nodded at the speed of
I'm a big fat liar.

"
I mean it Tara. And if and when we leave, you are coming with me. And we will just figure out another way to help your grandmother."

She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. Fucking
distraction
is what it was, I knew that. And of course my body bowed before her needs, devious or not, my greedy hands pressing her body into mine.

"
Ah, dear Jesus, time to go." Steve looked over my left shoulder, a world of dread clear in his face.

Chapter Three

Tara pulled away and ran to
ward her car, calling back over her shoulder, "Gotta lock up."

"
For what?" Why would anyone think there might be something worth taking in that dilapidated hunk of bolts?

"
I don't have anything to lock up here," Steve said, shrugging, as if that had any bearing whatsoever on anything. .

I watched Tara
literally wrestle the window up then smash the lock down and shut the door with her butt. The hunk of metal barked a groan followed by a
ka-cha-bang
as it rocked in its tracks.

She headed toward me, looking like a sassy
teenage gangster, hips moving with a rebellion that brought a dire need in me. To fuck her and spank her. God, I missed her. That was the first thing I would do when I had the chance. Tie her up and fuck her while I spanked her. After I ate her pussy and brought her to the brink of orgasm, until I was deviously satisfied with her torment.
Then
I'd fuck her senseless while blistering her ass. And
then
I'd spank her pussy and bring her to the hardest fucking orgasm ever. Which I'm sure would make me unbearably hungry to fuck her again, from the front, my body covering hers, chest against hers, tongue tasting hers.

God she had me wrapped
. So tightly, and sadly, and gloriously wrapped around her finger.

We made our way to the limo and I held Tara
's hand in a vicious grip, ready to yank her out of harm's way at the first hint of threat. Steve climbed in and I eyed the odd couple in the forward facing seat as I handed Tara in, then seated myself next to her, pulling her exactly against my body, arm around her.

I held the g
lare of the giant Caucasian before me in black jeans and black t-shirt, letting him know in no uncertain terms that his ridiculously massive size, hard onyx gaze, and the chewed up scar tissue along the entire right side of his jaw didn't intimidate me in the slightest.
I
could take anything he dished out.

He returned my stare with
an equally direct one.

"
I'm Steve." Steve shot a hand between us, but the Preacher Dom ignored it, keeping his brutal gaze locked to mine. "What a lovely lady here." Steve continued to hack at the iceberg parked between us. "And what might your name be?" He stretched his peace-wagon hand farther, toward the woman, ignoring her cool gaze of warning.

The giant man
struck like a snake and twisted the proffered hand, bringing Steve screaming to his knees. I instinctively covered Tara with half my body, ready to fight.

The Preacher
's frame quivered with tension, ready to pursue it further. "My brother…" the calm words were like gravel thrown in a cavern. "Back the fuck up."

T
he woman next to him erupted in another language, her voice like supple leather. He gave her a look, then leaned to speak to her. His hushed tones in her ear were more like growls, but he suddenly released Steve, and placed a kiss on her temple.

I was more than a little surprised to see anything b
ut submission in the set of the woman's perfect mahogany jaw. Her reaction to him certainly didn't reflect his perfection as a Dom.

Steve scramble
-crawled his way back into the seat on the other side of Tara, eyes wide and breath labored, rubbing his wrist. He would be even more terrified of the Preacher Dom now, and that made anger bubble through me. That kind of retaliation had been too over the top. A bad sign of his Dom-ship. This wasn't going to work.

The beautiful woman sat forward a bit
with a gentle smile for Steve. "Please forgive my male," she articulated with perfect and exact English "He has not eaten his breakfast and he is like a rabid hyena when he is hungry."

"
It's called personal space." The Preacher Dom's voice rumbled, the effect a deliberate intimidation. "You ever come into hers again, I'll kill you." She gave a light sigh and he added a deep laugh to take the edge off the threat, but the sound rolled like distant thunder before a killer storm.

Steve yank
ed at his suit jacket sleeves indignantly, putting himself back together while Tara nodded at the giant, a speculative gleam in her eyes. Before I could warn her to keep quiet, she gave another nod and spoke. "So you're the Preacher Dom?"

I held my breath as h
e gave her a slow grin and a curt nod before slicing that lethal gaze back to me. "And you're Mr. Lucian Bane." He said my name like a bad omen, but the grin on his wide mouth, showing a set of perfect, white teeth, said more like a fantastic secret. "The ineffable
cheater
."

A mixture of bad vibes snaked through me, awkward shame being
the most annoying one. "What's our mission, Preacher?"

"
Teach you obedience," he said as his woman reached inside a little drawer on her left and handed me a bulky package. Not taking my gaze from Mr. Preacher, I ripped it open and dumped the contents on the little console table between the forward and rear seats. Watches. Bulky black plastic ones with cheap looking digital panels. A note lay under one of them and I scanned the order to put the watches on immediately, apply the tamper-resistant seal, and turn them on. A quick examination revealed a plastic clasp had been added to the strap, and once fastened, couldn't be opened again without being destroyed. Wonderful.

Everyone put on the watches as ordered,
then the Preacher passed me an envelope. I opened it and read it silently with Tara. Yep. He was in charge to do as he wished. That was the overall emphasis that had my balls in a vice of fear. The one thing I seemed to have a hard time seeing past. Until my eyes hit the phrase
must sell adult toys
.

A mixture of immense relief hit me as I read.
We had to
sell
adult toys? To three specific businesses. My heart pounded with the intensity of the tension uncoiling inside me. I didn't have to lie to Tara or be cruel to her. Of course there were worse things, but that ranked up there pretty high on my list of dreaded orders.

"
Oh my God," Tara gasped. "I have to sell dildos at a hospital?" she hissed. "And you at a toy store? A children's toy store?"

"
Yes, but to the adults, love." I whispered, keenly aware of Steve reading along. I waited for his response to his assignment. 

"
Oh Holy Mother," he finally said, or squeaked. "Preserve me from this, this…barbarian heathen escapade that would have me sell pornographic materials! And to a
funeral home
no less
!
It's…it's…" He shook his head, gasping for air, for words. "Sick and…sacrilegious, and… many other things that…well that I obviously can't speak for god sake!"

The Preacher
's laughter rumbled through the car and right into my bones. "I would say I can't wait to hear your plan for that
Steve,
but for some reason, they decided your box of goodies was not to be opened until time of assignment. Regardless, this will be an interesting and entertaining mission." His derisive tone inspired more apprehension in my gut, but not to the same degree that had plagued me earlier. Knowing the assignment, crazy as it was, filled me with hope.

"
And where are we going?" Tara looked around, the question casually pointing out that we'd left the city and turned onto a small road passing through a lightly forested area.

"
To headquarters," the preacher said. "Where we'll plot your escapades. Sales are points and we'll need a lot of them. So we'll want you to make as many for us as you can."

"
Us?" I said.

"
Yeah. Us. We're a team, we move as a team, we fight as a team, we fall as a team, only I don't plan on falling. That means you will do what I say, as I say, when I say, how I say. No more being led by your dick and breaking rules. Do we understand? Lucian?"

The way he dra
wled my name acted like a band-saw on my last nerve. I wanted to argue the point, it was a
lot
more than my dick Tara owned. But there was also that
knowing
in his tone that went beyond my actions in this game. Like he knew my entire past and was self-righteously disappointed. Get in fucking line, preacher boy. "Oh, I'm very clear."

"
I'm clear," Steve said.

Tara raised her hand.
"Clear here. Very."

The giant s
ank into his seat in relaxation. "
Praise
God for that." He capped the strange statement with a scary grin.

I
laced my fingers deeper into Tara's hand and squeezed, feeling like we'd just made that curve around the looney bend and the doctor in charge was the sickest patient of them all. And just because our mission was selling toys was no guarantee the bastard wouldn't make other demands. All we could do now was hope he had some sense of honor beneath that tough hide.

After a few miles, the Preacher Dom settled even deeper into his seat and put his
head back. From his deep, even breathing, I concluded he'd dozed off. His woman sat still and alert at his side, missing nothing while not studying anything directly.

Tara leaned into me a bit more and I shifted so she could get more comfortable. She slept then, her head pillowed on my chest and her body cradled against my side. Ignoring the passing miles, I focused on
reacquainting myself with every contour of her face. I could spend the rest of my life studying every facet of Tara, and still not be satisfied. Awe filled me at what she did to my body, my mind, my heart. How just
being,
right here, next to me, could make me feel like this, like the entire universe paused, and idled patiently while I stared down at this gift and absorbed it into me. I would do anything to protect her, even from herself. That's what I needed now, a strategy to protect her from the Preacher Dom and her own stubborn determination.

Chapter Four

An hour or more
later, I looked out the window, way past the point of
where the fuck are we?
I watched as nowhere land turned into dense forest and still we drove. Was the driver lost? Surely nothing like a headquarters would be so far out in the sticks.

By the time I managed to stop thinking about our predicament and all it might entail, the limo came to a stop. Tara's eyelids fluttered open with the sudden absence of motion

Sitting up fully alert, the Preacher showed absolutely no sign of having been asleep only seconds ago.
"Home Sweet Home." He chuckled, and leaned to open the door.

We all climbed out
, stunned, and looked around. "Where are we?" Tara asked, scoping the forest canopy spreading above us.

"
Headquarters," the preacher answered. "Gear is in the back. Set up camp."

Camp?
One glance around and it was clear he meant that in the literal sense. I found him glaring at me, a brutal intolerance for slackers in his dark gaze.

I followed Steve to the rear of the car
and found the 'gear'. I counted ten large black duffle bags with the Gladiator logo and several boxes with our names on them. I noticed the bags labeled with our names and handed them to their respective owners, minus the preacher and his…sub. I'd make him ask.

As I unpacked
my bag, I couldn't help being awed at how much shit was in there. A tent, clothes, sleeping bag, food, flashlight, fire starter, parachute cord. I lifted a pocket knife and weighed it in my hand before pocketing it and going back to digging everything out. Bug repellent, a hatchet, first aid kit, and still a ton of things I would go through later. The insect repellent I went ahead and applied liberally, then caught Tara long enough to spray her down with it, before tossing the bottle to Steve so he could do the same.

Wow, they really were making us do this. I reached for one of the other bags, hoping for more supplies and found
several the fixings for a make-shift bathroom and cooking gear.

Camping was definitely not on my list of favorite things to do, but
thank fuck—or my father, rather—I wasn't a stranger to the task. And thanks to that same bastard, it had never been a pleasant experience. I had no illusions about how enjoyable this particular excursion wouldn't be, either.

The limo driver
, Benton, got out for the first time and came around to the back. "Sir, please remove everything you might need for the night from the car. I have to leave in twenty minutes. I'll return at nine in the morning to take your group to your first assignment." And just like that, he turned and walked away. No time for questions. Nothing.

The thought of spending the night in the wilderness with no way out and no means of communication didn
't bother me half as much as doing it with the Preacher Dom in the next tent. Fucking frightening.

Steve
and I started unloading the car, setting all our stuff in a central location. I looked around and found Tara talking to the driver. One look at her face and my blood surged, shooting me toward them.

"
What the fuck is up?" I asked, still ten feet off.

"
Nothing man," the guy held up both hands with a smirk. "Was just asking an innocent question." His tone was entirely different from only moments earlier.

I continued toward him until I was close enough to smell alcohol on his breath.
"Don't talk to her, you understand? You're the fucking driver. Drivers don't talk, they drive. Got it?"

"
What's going on?" The preacher's voice rumbled behind me and he clapped a hand on my shoulder, pulling me away.

"
He asked her a question. I don't like whatever he asked."

The preacher got closer to the dude, looking down at him now.
"What'd he ask?"

"
Whatever it was, I don't like the look it gave her. What did you ask her?"

Tara yanked on me and whispered,
"It's nothing Lucian, I handled it."

The dude
grinned a little. "I was just wonderin' if she was into sharin'. Lots of these girls are."

The preacher
's hand shot out and clamped his throat. "How about you don't talk to the women
ever
and I won't rip your jugular out, deal? Stay in your cage, driver. Don't talk to my team. You need anything, you ask me. Real nicely."

The man flailed with bugging eyes and red face, nodding while Tara pulled me back and held my arm tight. The preacher let go with a shove, and the dude hit the g
round like he'd been body slammed.

Preacher
turned to me, his look lethal. "That won't happen again." He eyed Tara briefly then sliced those hard eyes back to me. "But if anything similar should occur, I want to know.
I
want to deal with it. Understood? Bane?"

I nodded.
"Yeah, I got it." As long as no one bothered Tara, I was good.

The driver
made quick work of obeying the preacher and gingerly parked his ass in his seat while Steve and I finished unloading. I gave a cursory check of the passenger area for stray items, but before I could really look, the driver informed me on the intercom to vacate the vehicle, it was time for him to depart. I got out, and Steve and I watched as the stretched Hummer disappeared back down the road. The desperate look on Steve's face said the last train out of hell had just departed without him.

We
silently set up camp while I cursed under my breath and wrestled with three tents. I kept one eye on Steve who stumbled about, clearly out of his element but trying hard not to show it, as he examined the items in his bag like they were pieces to a puzzle he dreaded putting together. I'd already taken his tent from him before he mangled the simple
pup
feature from it then gave him the job of
itemizing
shit so he stayed out of my way while I worked.

Periodically, I
exchanged glances with Tara, finding her resolved to putting respective items in the tents as I set them up. My heart always skipped a beat and made me feel like a teenager at my first group camp-out when she caught me staring. It didn't help that I could read the clear need and longing in her eyes to be with me. Alone. And knowing exactly what she needed made it very difficult to not stop what I was doing and drag her into the woods to give it to her. Probably what the Preacher had in mind when he took off with his Princess down a nature trail with his arm around her. Guess we'd be the fucking slaves. I slammed the last stake into the ground for the third tent, giving it a few extra un-necessary whacks with the hammer side of my hatchet. Being his slave was fine by me as long as his little directives didn't get sexual. And I was ready to lay my little lost soul on the line and bet they would.

Thirty minutes and a bucket of sweat later, we were done making camp
, tents erected, fire ring set, wood fetched and fire started. I wiped sweat from my face with my arm, eying the supplies for the evening, neat and at the ready. Steve seemed to have found an odd driving solace in doing the tedious physical labor of this and that. His current new strange mission in life. I was worried about him. The whole thing had me on edge, but his every movement jerked with infused dread, as if he knew for certain he'd be asked to do something beyond his ability. I needed to let him know that I'd never let that happen.

The Preacher Dom and his lady returned from their
royal stroll and after the two exchanged silent looks, she went into the tent and he sat on one of the fallen logs Steve had rolled up beside the fire pit. The Dom watched us while whittling at a stick and then his woman emerged dressed in a bright traditional gown…what was it called? Khanga.

She took o
ne look at the preacher, nodded and headed toward the edge of the forest where Tara worked to drape a tarp to allow privacy for a makeshift bathroom, complete with the lovely camp toilet from the back of the Hummer.

Even though he didn
't look at me, I could feel it. The preacher wanted to talk to me, was waiting for me to come to him. He could sure wait.

I grabbed the hatchet and started to split kindling off a piece of wood
, using the work as a blind to find out everything I possibly could about this place. If there were any unpleasant surprises while we were there, knowledge of some small detail could make all the difference. They'd chosen a good site to make it hard for a person to get away from the situation, or to find help, which had my gut in knots of apprehension. 

No water spigot nearby meant this likely wasn't a state facility. Water flowed not far away though. A large stream maybe that I could hear, but not see. The trees all around were mostly hardwood and the leaf litter underfoot made stealth an unlikely proposition. 

I glanced down at t
he goofy watch on my wrist. For once it didn't bother me. Maybe our only link to salvation in this case. Fuck, who was I kidding? These people were likely hoping for bad shit to go down. I imagined huge audiences of people eating popcorn while having chain orgies and placing bets. Were Tara and I still the favored couple? Fucking crazy. I needed to keep us in that position. It would be nice if I knew what it was about us that they loved so much. How graciously we fucked up? Guess we'd just be ourselves and hope for the best.

Once more,
I listened to the water in the distance. Seemed like maybe a hundred yards or so away. First chance, I would take a walk and search it out and see what kind of advantage I could find there for Tara and me, or escape possibilities. At the very least, it could provide us a bit more privacy than we'd have in our tent.

I glanced at
Steve's tent, ready to barge over there and see what the fuck had him panting and grunting like he were rearranging fucking furniture. What could he
possibly
be doing to warrant that much racket? On second thought, maybe I
didn't
want to know.

H
e'd finally changed out of his suit, which wasn't faring too well in this environment and to see him in jeans and a t-shirt was really…odd.

I looked at the
Preacher Dom and found his black gaze unreadable. His woman returned with Tara and sat gracefully at his side, elegant hands folded in her lap and a half smile on her full mouth. He cleared his throat a little, and she immediately stood and disappeared inside their tent. Fucking mind readers?

He stood then and I realized he
'd constructed a bow and arrow, instead of aimlessly whittling and fiddling with para-cord as I'd initially assumed. "Let's fetch supper Mr. Bane." He turned and headed toward the forest.

Fetch supper? Was he kidding? He could hunt?
I looked around then followed with my hatchet. My body hummed with fear and excitement as I took my time catching up to him. Unstable literally screamed from the man's pores, but there were things about him that made me curious. Something needed unravelling, something he was hiding. A secret. A big one.

When I made it to his side, he brought a finger to his lips to silence me then began moving quietly through the forest. I followed behind him and we walked in stealth mode for about five minutes.
How the fuck did such a big man move so quietly? Especially with all the dry leaves waiting to crackle underfoot.

He stopped and held up one
hand in a signal to halt. Pointing one finger toward something I didn't see in the ten o'clock direction, he waited in absolute silence.

I carefully search
ed the area for whatever he saw, suddenly ten years old again with my grandfather, my heart hammering with the prospect of a kill. If I'd had more opportunity to learn from my grandfather, I might have actually absorbed it all. Instead, in my hatred of my father/teacher, I ended up despising the lessons.

The Preacher very slowly nocked
his homemade arrow onto his bow and just as slowly drew it back. I held my breath when I finally saw what he was aiming for. A rabbit. Fucker had incredible eye sight. The arrow released and he paused for several seconds before turning a grin to me. "Wabbit stew."

"
You got it?"

He stared at me, his smile gone.
"Fetch."

I stared back at him,
a shit load of familiar rebellion flooding me.

He raised his brows at me.
"Bane, this is going to be a very. Very. Long week for you. Now fetch… or I'll put a bit in that rebellious mouth of yours, ride your
ass,
and make you fetch with your
teeth.
."

My jaw worked slowly to the left then right
before I gathered years of honed control and exaggerated reverence onto my tongue. "Yes, sir."

"
Yes, my
lord
," like he'd told me a thousand times to call him that.

Motherfuck
er. One breath and my stubborn skills revved to life. "Yes. My lord." I gritted my teeth and headed to find the kill. When I reached it, I stared down at the arrow through the neck of the large rabbit, pissed that he'd gotten it. Pissed that he'd gotten it with a fucking homemade bow and arrow. Pissed that I fucking
envied
that skill. I'd never applied myself in my father's many endeavors to make a man out of me in the wilderness. I'd rebelled out of spite and gravitated toward more cerebral pursuits. Like writing. And by the time I wished I had learned both, it was too fucking late. Bastard.