Page 12 of The Shadow Sanctum

“Is it… Mr. Sanchez, or whatever his name was? Did he say something to you?”

My eyes draw to the divot above her sternum as it dips, then rises. A swallow I’m not sure how to interpret. If it was Angel that bothered her, she’d be angry.

This is something else.

“No, Sawyer… Nothing is wrong. Nothing has happened.” Her shoulders lift with a breath. “This is me. Do you want it or not?”

Confident words, told by a girl with tight skin high up on her cheekbone, the slight wrinkle of a brow. Hands balled into fists to fight a tremble that gives her away so thoroughly, I don’t understand why she’s still acting.

She doesn’t want to tell me. Fine. Maybe I don’t want to know.

“I always want you,” I say. I think I mean it.

The wrinkle in her brow fades to a soft white line, then disappears altogether. “Good.” She climbs off the bed and brushes imaginary dust from her stomach. When her chin lifts, I shudder at the chill in her gaze.

“Then get up… We’re going to the training room.”

CHAPTER 5

SAWYER

As we enter the training room, Luna walks straight to the wall of toys, her gaze scanning the array of floggers, canes, riding crops, and one whip. All of which do wonders for the silent threat necessary for an intimidating room such as this. None of which I used on her—or ever planned to.

It seems Luna feels differently.

She paces with all the confidence of a Priapus. Hands clasped behind her naked back, chest wide, spine strong. Her muscles don’t clench. Her hair doesn’t shield but instead falls down her back, an unbroken curtain of white.

Odd for Luna.

Sexy as hell.

Finally, her attention lands, her feet twisting to face the wall. She inspects the base of a riding crop with one delicate fingernail before following the straight path to the black leather loop at the other end—called a keeper, actually. How ironic.

She plucks the crop from the wall, turns it over in her hands, then holds it up for me to see. “I’d like you to hit me with this.”

No expression creases the smooth stone of her face as she comes toward me with the crop outstretched. A second skips by before I carefully take it.

“Do you mean spank?”

She dips her chin sharply in a nod that should be convincing. She certainly looks like a woman who knows what she wants.

Yet my cock has slowly begun to shrink.

I press the crop to her chest. “How about you hit me instead?”

No expression crosses her face, but she isn’t quick to take the crop. Only when I let it drop does she snatch the handle up. The tiniest bit of something flickers in her eyes before being eaten by the cold.

“If you insist. Remove your clothes and face the pole, hands above your head.”

Anger. Subtle, just a slight edge to her voice, but it’s there.

For God’s sake, does she know about Angel or not?

Yes, Head Keeper, feels like the wrong thing to say, so I say nothing. This isn’t a game, it’s an outlet.

Fine. I like sex for that purpose too.

Turning around, I pull off my shirt and step up to the pole. My jeans are still unbuttoned from earlier, so my pants and boxers fall easily with a quick yank. I kick them behind me and press my hands against the red padding, inching my feet back so my body angles for her.