“So you are here looking for another Dom?”

“Just someone to play with tonight.” She tilted her chin up to hide that he’d made her question herself.

After another long, assessing stare, he said, “Well, good luck and be safe. And if you run into any trouble, let me know.”

“I will.” She smiled slightly. Okay, that was kind of sweet. Maybe Ambrose had good taste in friends. Didn’t mean he had good taste in subs.

Konstantin and his girls retreated to a booth in the corner, and Everly returned to her pity party. She must’ve been giving off some major pouty vibes, because a man appeared at the seat next to her and gave her a sinister look. Pouting always attracted the predatory types.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing over here all by yourself?” he purred.

Unashamedly, she ran her gaze over him. Brown eyes, warm and trustworthy. Plain hair cut short and styled in spikes. Fitted black T-shirt that showed off a decent body. Leather pants. Ugh. That was almost a hard limit. Still, she didn’t get dolled up and drag herself here to give up already.

She batted her lashes. “Waiting for someone to call me pretty.”

He chuckled. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.”

After perching on the bar stool next to her, he grinned, revealing a gorgeous smile. “I’m Troy.”

“Everly.”

“Cool name.”

“Thanks.”

He rested his elbow on the counter and leaned in. “So what are you into, Everly?”

“Jeez. Not even going to buy me a drink first?”

He looked at her cup and arched a brow. “Yours is full, but I’d be happy to when you finish.”

She took a sip as she assessed him. “Are you a Dom?” He looked like one—had that confident presence.

“I’m a sadist top with a thing for sensation play.”

“Are you a baby sadist?” Newbies weren’t her thing. She didn’t have the patience to babysit. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“No. I’ve been playing for years. I moved to town a year ago and only found out about this club recently.”

She peered around them, checking to see what equipment was available. She’d been coming here long enough to know the club was safe. Plus, Kon had been watching her on and off, even while his subs made out next to him. Somehow, she knew he was looking out for her, and though she didn’t need a babysitter, it did make her feel safer. Maybe not all rich guys were assholes.

“I’m a brat masochist,” she said, letting the warning hang in the air.

He nodded. “I’m more a sadist than a Dom, but I can give you pain if that’s what you want.”

She thought for a moment. Ambrose had left her wanting more. If not with him, why not with this guy? Her body ached for release. The built-up stress of covering for Morgan, the upcoming protest, and coming off the high after the best sex ever needed to be released somehow. And here was a sadist, ready to hurt her.

“Do you like canes?” she asked.

He grinned wickedly, and she shuddered.

She finished the last gulp of her soda then declined when Troy offered her another. Instead, she pointed to an empty Saint Andrew’s Cross.

“Jeez. Not even going to buy me a drink first?” he teased.

Laughing, she rose and started toward the equipment. “Come on. It won’t stay open for long. I’ll buy you a drink after.”

He followed her, heading right to the rack of canes hanging on the wall. His eyes darkened as he looked them over. She had to admit the expression was sexy, even if he wasn’t Ambrose.

She remembered Ambrose saying he wouldn’t use a cane on her until he knew her tolerance.

Well, fuck him.

Troy led her to the cross and she took position, her back to the room, front up against the hard wood. He began the process of strapping her wrists into the cuffs, then her ankles. Usually she got pleasure from the process, when it involved the power dynamic. This felt hollow. Like they were just doing a job, fulfilling meaningless roles, and that was it.

This wasn’t satisfying her the way it did when a Dom handled her. But all she needed was the pain. She could do without the mastery.

The lie was hard to swallow, but she forced herself to push thoughts of Ambrose and permanence and how badly she yearned for something real away.

A moment later, she heard the telltale swishing sound of a cane slicing through the air. But it didn’t land on her. Troy tested it out a few more times, making her flinch.

“I’ll start slow,” he said. “Over your skirt at first. Okay?”

She nodded. The club safeword was “red.” If she yelled it and Troy didn’t stop, people would come running.

Her muscles tightened in anticipation, and she tried to relax with a deep inhale.

A voice caught her attention. Every hair on her body rose. It was far away at first, but then it became clearer, and closer. She turned her head, searching for the owner.

There, in the corner near Konstantin, was Ambrose.

And he was staring at her.

“Stop,” she blurted. Fuck. Why had she done that?

Troy stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Ambrose. “Are you safewording or is this how you like to play?”

Leaving him hanging for a minute, she tried to focus, to pull her attention away from Ambrose, to forget he was there. He wasn’t hers, she wasn’t his, and he wasn’t there for her.

Focus on Troy.

She had a chance for a good bottoming experience. What did it matter that Ambrose was there? God, she could practically feel his gaze on her body, hot and weighted.

Ugh! It was too hard to concentrate. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against the cross.

“Red,” she finally said with a sigh.

Troy gave her a mildly annoyed look then started untying her. She wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn’t form. From the corner of her eye, she watched Ambrose stalk toward them, seeming to get bigger and more menacing with each step.

Damn. Maybe she could stay here and he’d play with her.

She gave her head a shake. No. She shouldn’t let him play with her until he answered some questions. She so wasn’t up for a repeat of what’d happened with Scott.

Once untied, she turned around, just as Ambrose reached them.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

Troy looked back and forth between them. “You didn’t tell me you had a Dom.”

“I don’t.”

He looked again then snorted and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said to Ambrose, who merely nodded.

Silent guy code? With an angry grunt, she turned to Troy, who was already walking away, “I said—”

“Can we talk?” Ambrose asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “You totally just . . . cane-blocked me.”

“I didn’t make you safeword.”

“I couldn’t concentrate with you watching me.”

“Well, I can’t take my eyes off of you. It’s not my fault.”

Flattery will get you nowhere. Sighing, she uncrossed her arms and let them hang at her sides. “What do you want?”

“To talk. In private.”

The hot/cold routine wasn’t going to work for her. It had been a week since he’d bolted, and now here he was, acting like it was the next day. She was a bossy, demanding sub with high expectations. He’d already broken communication when he’d shut her out and left with a cold good-bye. “I’m the kind of girl who knows what I want, Ambrose. I won’t let you hurt me.”

He flinched. “Hurt you?” His gaze held hers, steady and a little shocked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, surprising her. She hadn’t realized how much it’d messed her up until she’d said it out loud. Memories surfaced, and with them ugly emotions. When she’d fallen for Scott and he’d started to play with others, the humiliation had hurt worse than the betrayal. If she was going to get into another real relationship, she wasn’t going to be the first one to fall head over heels. Everything needed to be spelled out so she wouldn’t embarrass herself again.