The Gilded Cage Read online

  Of course no one, especially not Hayden, had expected Sophie to discover Fenn was alive. Sophie and Emery’s computer genius friend Cody had discovered that Fenn hadn’t died all those years ago. They’d hacked into a computer belonging to a hired hit man and found all of the information on Fenn’s life in Colorado. Somehow he’d ended up in Walnut Springs and apparently didn’t remember anything of his past life.

  Except for Emery’s inner circle, everyone still believed Fenn was dead. Sophie had wanted the story of a lifetime—not for the fame it would bring her, but in hopes that it would help her handle her own grief over losing a friend to a sexual predator when she was a child.

  Sophie had explained to Hayden why she wanted to write the article and how she’d made it her mission to solve the mystery of the kidnapping since the culprits were never apprehended. Hayden had given Sophie a guest pass to the Gilded Cuff, a private BDSM club where Emery spent a lot of his free time.

  Hayden owned a membership at the club herself and was registered as a submissive—not that any of the doms at the club seemed to believe that. She loved the thrill of a man dominating her, but she could never quite bring herself to relinquish all of her control to them. Pairings usually ended badly. She’d get sorely spanked but get no pleasure from it, and the dom wouldn’t be aroused by her sassy-mouthed attempts to earn that spanking.

  She always felt she was on the verge of something amazing, something life changing, when she walked into the club each night, but she’d leave feeling empty, alone, and unsatisfied. Aria, one of the club dommes, had told her one night she hadn’t found the right dom, that some women couldn’t surrender to just anyone. Even knowing that, Hayden tried night after night to find that passion, that zing that would take her over the edge into a pleasure she’d never experienced. What was it people said about doing something over and over again the same way, yet expecting a different result? Each night was adding more and more to her frustration and desperation. When she’d suggested Sophie go to the club as her guest one night, she’d taken the night off herself and stayed home, watching reruns of Jane Austen movies and eating ice cream. Yeah, not something she was proud of, but she wasn’t perfect and never claimed to be. At least she’d known Sophie would be able to meet Emery that night, and things had worked out perfectly.

  The Gilded Cuff was the only place where someone could get access to Emery. The man had lived like a veritable recluse since the abduction. He needed his world to be shaken up. He’d spent twenty-five years hiding, hurting and suffering alone. Hayden knew it was time for him to move on with his life. She had known from the start the sort of person Sophie was: kind, compassionate, a warrior for justice and the right woman to break down Emery’s walls. Hayden viewed her role as the instigator of their relationship and saw it as a winning success, since the two were as tight as a pair of lovebirds now.

  The cement road ahead of Hayden suddenly vanished into a rocky dirt path lined with tall pines. It was a little eerie to drive in utter darkness. The twin beams of her Jeep’s headlights cut a narrow swath through the blackness. According to her directions, the ranch was supposed to be up ahead just a mile or two. So far she only saw dense woods around her, the trees edging right up to the road like dark phantoms. Every now and then a branch would extend too far across the path and slap the Jeep’s windshield. Each time, Hayden’s heart jumped into her throat and she jerked in her seat.

  Maybe this wasn’t the smartest thing to do in the middle of the night, her inner voice chided her. This is how women die in horror movies.

  That was the last thing she needed to be—that girl who got herself killed by some creepy serial killer who popped out of the bushes. Pressing the brake pedal, she slowed down and navigated the poor road as it wound to the left. Moments later, the forest thinned and a vast empty stretch of fenced fields lay before her. In the dark she could just make out a wrought-iron sign posted on an arch over a narrow road that separated two fields.

  THE BROKEN SPUR. Thank God, she’d found it.

  Up ahead about a quarter of a mile was a beautiful two-story ranch house that sat nestled between the two vast fields. Made of dark red wood and craggy gray stones, light shone through a couple of windows on the second floor through slightly parted curtains. It looked warm and inviting, nothing like the elegant iciness of the mansions back home. Rather, it was masculine and rugged, like a tall man in a cowboy hat and jeans; it looked both sexy and enticing at the same time. The porch had cushioned chairs and places to put one’s feet up to relax.

  Dark shapes moved in the fields alongside the Jeep as Hayden headed toward the ranch house. Probably cattle. She hoped they were cattle; otherwise this really might end up being some horror movie.

  She cursed herself for watching that marathon of zombie movies the weekend before and eating an entire tub of ice cream. But in her defense, she’d just been rejected by yet another dom at the Gilded Cuff and that had made it all worse. There were fewer and fewer doms willing to take her on now that she’d established a history of being a mouthy, aggressive submissive. Last weekend, she’d spent an entire night kneeling by one of the main areas where unengaged doms gathered, hoping just one of them would take a chance on her.

  Hour after hour, she’d seen other subs selected and led away on silvery chains to experience pleasure, leaving her all alone. Normally a round of self-pity was not something she indulged in, but that night she’d felt every inch the kicked puppy she’d probably looked like. It hurt. Not being chosen again and again. It had nothing to do with her looks and everything to do with her. In her parents’ glittering world, she was only valued for her looks and social pedigree. At the club it should have been different. Doms should appreciate her beauty, but value her and the submissive nature inside her. No one had wanted her, though. She’d even heard some of the doms talking about her.

  “Stay away from that one, she always tries to top from the bottom,”

  It had been just one of many comments that proved she was a failure at one of the things that mattered to her. The self-realization was a cold one that seemed to deaden her inside with its awful weight. She had to do something right, had to succeed or else she’d go mad. Bringing back Fenn was going to be her one thing to do right.

  Hayden parked out front of the house next to an old red pickup truck before she picked her way carefully across the yard. Aside from the house lights and the stars overhead it was dark enough that she could easily step into a hole if she wasn’t careful. Walking in stilettos on grass was pretty much a minefield for any woman. The way the stiletto heels sank into the ground, snagged on things and then tripped her was a total death trap. She only wore heels when she knew she wouldn’t be walking around much. Obviously, rescuing Fenn today hadn’t been part of her plan.

  Note to self: Pick smarter footwear for rescue missions.

  A light flicked on to the left of the house and she turned her head in its direction. An old silver trailer was parked about twenty-five yards away from the house. The curtains were pulled back a few inches, and she glimpsed Fenn’s face as he moved into view temporarily before he moved out of sight again.

  Hayden abandoned the plan to knock at the house and tramped back down the steps and toward the little trailer. She rapped her knuckles on the door. A bark and a growl came from the other side of the door.

  “Hush, Coda, baby,” a low, gentle voice murmured.

  A shuffling step had her moving back a few feet in case Fenn decided to swing the door open wide.

  “Callie? That you? Go back to bed. I’m fine,” Fenn called out.

  Callie? A flicker of jealousy made Hayden bristle, more at herself than at the mysterious Callie. Hayden had no right to be jealous. Fenn wasn’t hers. Hell, he had to have a girlfriend. A man who looked that good in a pair of jeans had to. All it had taken was one look from him after she’d saved him in the arena to know she was in trouble. He had the same chiseled, godlike features as his brother Emery, with broad shoulders, lean legs and that raw
masculine grace in every move he made. Even when he was limping, the man was attractive.

  He and Emery were identical twins—eerily identical—which was surprising to her given how they’d grown up apart. Where she’d always appreciated Emery’s good looks, he’d never made her go weak in the knees. But Fenn had. One blazing scowl at her earlier tonight had been like a sucker punch to the gut. Her body had flushed and she’d gotten wet. From just one look. That was how a dom was supposed to affect a sub. For the first time in her life, she finally understood how the other subs at the club had been so affected when their doms approached them with that look in their eyes. Fenn had that look down to perfection. He was a natural dom, with the way he’d controlled the bull and the scorching look he’d given her—a look that had promised retribution. She couldn’t help but wonder if the sleepy little town of Walnut Springs had any BDSM clubs—and if it did, was he a member?

  The trailer door opened a crack. Light broke through and hit her full in the face.

  “Callie—” Fenn peered down at her, his long golden hair tousled and falling into his eyes. Again, that treacherous pang of disappointment and the sting of rejection struck Hayden. Whoever this Callie was, she was one lucky girl. Would anyone ever want to be with her? Just her; not because of her parents’ money or influence, but because they genuinely wanted her and her alone?

  From between his legs, a dog—a husky—growled softly, baring her white teeth. Was this Coda? Hayden squinted against the brightness of the trailer’s interior lights. He opened the door wider, revealing that he was wearing nothing but jeans. The sight of his muscled chest distracted her. Her gaze tracked the trail of light gold hair that dusted his stomach, down from his navel and disappearing beneath his waistband.

  “You’re not Callie.” His words were a little smooth—not slurred, but close enough. The rich smell of whisky clung to him; the scent wasn’t overpowering, rather just enough to entice her. Was he drunk? It would explain his speech. He leaned forward a little, peering down at her with open curiosity. There was a glint of sexual interest in his eyes, one that made her feel small and delicate. The sudden grin that split his face followed the flash of recognition in his eyes.

  “Well, if it isn’t little Miss Red Dress.” The feral suspicion and tension in his body seemed to soften into a masculine pose of relaxation as he braced one shoulder on the trailer door.

  Miss Red Dress? Was he kidding?

  “I’m Hayden,” she said. “Hayden Thorne?” Would he remember her last name? He and Wes had been friends since they’d learned to walk, before the kidnapping. Would memories of those early years have completely vanished so that not even her last name would trigger his memory?

  Fenn grinned wickedly. “You asking me? Or don’t you know your own name, honey?”

  Honey? She frowned and clenched her fists at her sides. “I’m not your honey.” Even if she did like the way he said it, it made her insides burn with feminine interest. In the past, she’d been around doms who carried themselves with silent power; those were the more experienced doms. The younger doms tended to strut and posture, not really understanding that arrogance and cockiness weren’t necessary to a dom’s base of control and power. But Fenn was different. He was bold, assuming, and domineering in a way she hadn’t expected. Never in a million years would she have thought cocky arrogance would have appealed to her, and this man had it in spades. Her entire body responded to him, and his attitude because it promised hot, rough sex on the nearest flat surface, the kind that would leave her hurting deliciously for days. Holy hell…Focus! She struggled to bring herself back to the task that had brought her to his door.

  “Fenn. I have to talk to you.”

  His eyes opened wider. They were the same shade as Emery’s, hazel with flecks of green that danced and sparkled and made a girl dream about spending hours counting them. They were mesmerizing and for a moment she lost her train of thought, something that rarely happened.

  “Ever since you ran past me in the arena tonight, I was hoping you’d find your way to my place.” He flicked his hand over his forehead, tossing back the fall of hair that had briefly covered his eyes. Light brown stubble shadowed his jaw line, and her heart skipped a few beats as she wondered what that would feel like rubbing against her skin. Would she like the burn? He looked so delicious, so dangerous. Coming here at night while he was drunk could very well have been a terrible idea…

  “Please Fenn, we really need to talk. Can I come inside for a minute?” She took a step forward. Coda whined softly from between his legs. Her blue eyes were bright and pale as glaciers. She looked oddly more…wolflike, with dark-tipped ears and a thick mane of fur around her neck rather than the trim ruff of a husky. Her nose was entirely white and the white patch spread up to frame her eyes in a heart shape. She was a beautiful creature.

  A very sexy smile curved his lips. “Sure, come on in, honey.”

  “Uh, thanks.” The way he said honey this time felt much more like a warning.

  Fenn stepped back and allowed her to climb into the trailer. The husky backed up, too, still peering around her master’s knees, ears back, but no longer growling. Hayden let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It was clear the dog no longer thought she was a threat.

  Hayden loved animals, but her parents had never allowed her to have a pet. They ruined nice houses, at least according to her mother. Therefore she’d never spent much time around dogs, especially none like Coda, who looked like a wolf…one that could eat her.

  “You want something to drink?” Fenn asked as he closed the door behind her.

  A stack of empty bottles littered the tiny counter next to the sink.

  “No thanks. I think you’ve had enough for the both of us,” she muttered.

  “Probably true.” He sighed and lifted his jeans on the left side to show a tightly bandaged ankle. “Hurts real bad,” he explained with a curt nod at the beers and the half-full bottle of whisky.

  “So…what can I do for you, Miss Red Dress?” He leered openly at her, but she caught the faintest playful hint of teasing in his gaze.

  “Hayden. Please, call me Hayden.” She tried to move past him, but the cramped confines of the trailer wouldn’t allow her to pass without fully grinding her body against his. As she did so, she had to tilt her head back. He was the same height as his twin, six-foot-three, easy.

  “Hayden,” he murmured, one of his hands coming to rest on her hip. His large palm squeezed lightly as she wriggled, fighting off the invasive touch. She was a little ticklish. When he touched her there, she flinched as a bolt of arousal shot from the tips of her breasts down to between her thighs.

  The swift movement of her hips brought a sudden change in him. His eyes darkened and his lips parted as he drew in a deep breath, his grip tightening. Fenn pressed his body to hers, pinning her against the fridge behind her.

  Trapped. She was trapped and it was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced. Nothing at the Gilded Cuff had ever made her feel like this…flushed and all too aware of herself and his close proximity. Instinctively she tried to dart around him and escape. But there was nowhere to go.

  “Where are you going? I thought that’s what you wanted. A buckle bunny looking for a good hard fu—”

  Crack! She slapped him hard across his face before she could think twice, and his head whipped sideways. He didn’t move away, he only turned his face back to hers. There was a handprint-shaped mark on his cheek. He reached up and touched the spot, the intensity of his stare burning through her.

  Wow. She was so not the violent type when she was angry, but to insinuate that she…oh yeah, slapping him was the appropriate reaction. She may go to a BDSM club frequently, she may do a few scenes with doms, but she rarely went all the way with those men. She didn’t just sleep around like that. When she went to bed with a man, she wanted a deeper connection. For him to call her a…what was it? Buckle bunny? Red tinged her vision as she seriously considered slapping hi
m again.

  “So that’s how you want to play?” His lips firmed into a hard line.

  As he spoke, he reached up and collared her throat—not squeezing it, but the possessive hold was fully dominant. Little flutters of excitement stirred in the pit of her belly and a shiver rippled through her. Arousal pulsed to life between her thighs at the gentle domination. She tried to retreat, but couldn’t. He must have sensed her need to resist because he leaned over her, reminding her just how much taller he was. Her whole body flashed with heat and arousal at his silent show of power. It was impossible not to imagine him in full control of her: the way he might pin her down on the bed, his muscled arms twining with hers as he held her captive beneath him. Restrained for his pleasure, and hers. He was a natural dominant. It was obvious in every sweeping gaze, the flex of his muscles, the way he looked at her as if he could not only read her mind, but glimpse her soul. Another thing he and his twin apparently had in common. Dominant, alpha male instincts. She was a submissive but she’d not yet found a dominant who could top her and make her truly want to submit. The way Fenn stared at her, like he was furious and yet aroused, and the gentle grip on her throat? What if he unleashed all of that control on her? It was enough to make her light-headed.

  “You saved my life tonight. Aren’t you interested in a thank you?” That devil-may-care grin knocked her right behind the knees. How many women had fallen prey to that smile that promised decadent endless hours of pleasure? He brushed his thumb over her chin as he studied her. His eyes held such a promise of passion that for a moment she could only contemplate what he would do with her…to her. Then she regained control of herself and reminded herself of her mission.

  “We have to talk.” She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.