“Hello, Master James.”
She knew his name. He was shocked, though perhaps he shouldn’t be. There weren’t so many members of Las Palmas that it would be extraordinary for someone to know everyone’s name. But she’d identified him by voice alone.
“Let’s get you out of that cage so we can talk.”
“As it pleases you, Master James.”
He was listening closely, watching her intently, so he caught the signs of relief—lowering of her shoulders, loosening of her grip on the bars.
It took him several minutes to find the control panel cleverly hidden in the stone wall. He turned off the spotlights, turned up the other room lights, and then lowered the cage, which was suspended from a mechanically controlled pulley.
Once it was down, he went back to the cage, unfastening the simple latches that held the door closed. Once it was open, Beth made no move to exit.
James stifled a sigh. “You can come out.”
“Thank you, Master James.”
She leaned her upper body out, planted her hands on the floor then slowly moved her legs. At first he thought she was scared to exit the cage, perhaps scared of a scene with him after having only a moment ago lost the security of a collar, but after a moment of watching her, he realized what he was seeing was not fear, but pain.
Crouching in a catcher’s pose he held out his hands. “Give me your hands. I’ll help you stand up.”
Beth’s head tipped up, and for a moment her eyes met his. What he saw in her gaze was a bright and powerful mixture of emotions—pain, anticipation, and lust. The force of her personality and desire was nearly enough to knock him back onto his ass.
Slowly she laid her fingers in his palms. Forcing himself to focus, James rose slowly, drawing her up until she was kneeling with her back straight. When the pressure of her fingers in his increased, James closed his hands around hers, giving her something to brace against as she rose to her feet.
Her lower legs from knee to ankle were marked with deeply embedded red lines, the crosshatch a perfect replica of the bottom of the cage.
James clenched his jaw as a wave of protectiveness washed over him. He held it back—subs were not princesses in need of rescuing. They were grown women who made informed decisions about their sexuality.
What she needed was to be cared for, not to be rescued.
James released her hands and knelt, rubbing her lower legs with firm, hard strokes. She made a small noise and swayed. For a moment her hands brushed his body as she instinctively reached out to steady herself. When she jerked back from the contact, she almost lost her balance. James grabbed her hip, fingertips against the flexed muscle of her ass.
“Don’t fall; brace yourself while I rub the marks out of your legs.”
He returned to working on her lower legs, but his attention was on her hands, on what she’d do. With rueful amusement he realized he was holding his breath waiting to see if she’d touch him. One hand settled on his shoulder. Her fingers were cold from clutching the metal bars.
The other hand brushed over his hair, the touch so light he almost didn’t feel it, but then she did it again, skimming her fingers through his hair. James raised his face, and his gaze met hers.
Beth’s breath caught, and her irises dilated with desire. Her hand clenched in his hair, not pulling, but possessive. A flush rose from her chest to her cheeks, darkening her skin to a dusky pink.
James rose to his feet, still holding her gaze as her hands slid down his body, the pressure of her fingers molding his shirt to his chest. Beth blinked, and with a jerk that shook her whole body, dropped her chin, eyelids now submissively lowered. She folded her arms behind her back, cupping the opposite elbow in each hand in a position that was physically demanding to maintain due to the pressure it put on the shoulders—it was a formal, stiff pose.
James just stared at her, utterly and completely fascinated. If anything, Master Mikael had undersold exactly what was going on with this incredible submissive.
For the first time since he’d gotten to Las Palmas this afternoon, James smiled. It was going to be a very good weekend.
Chapter Three
Beth kept her gaze down, emotions rolling through her. She tried to name them, but she was having trouble describing what had just happened well enough for her normal process to work. On the surface it was simple: he’d rubbed her legs, she’d touched his shoulder with one hand and with the other she’d petted his hair. That was inappropriate for a submissive, but surely one incorrect behavior was not enough to cause this chaotic mix of feelings.