BEAUTY SUBMITS TO HER BEAST
by Sydney St. Claire
Rancher Caitlin Olsen is in complete control of her life. After years of taking care of others, she’s on her own and loving every minute. She has her horses and her ranch. What more does she need? Yet deep inside, she yearns to give up all her responsibilities and simply experience life. When a friend suggests she try a bit of BDSM role-play, she does her research and accepts an invitation to Pleasure Manor for a fairy tale event.
War hero and Dominant, Damon Steele is a loner. His failure to keep his men alive destroyed too many hopes and dreams. He won’t be responsible for anyone else's life or happiness ever again. There’s no room in his life—or his heart—for romance. Instead, he satisfies his needs at BDSM clubs and never with the same sub. Taking part in the fairy tale event at Pleasure Manor is difficult enough, but when Beauty challenges him both in the bedroom and out, he’s not sure he can control his inner beast.
Except the pain was fading, replaced by warmth seeping into him. He relaxed as hands unknotted muscles and warmed him, as his angel talked and tore him from the grips of hell. He opened his eyes and blinked. An angel in white sat beside him. Not an angel. Caitlin.
Caitlin woke during the night in the heavenly bed beneath the open skylight. She’d fallen asleep with her very own prince, in her very own miniature castle. Overhead, the wind rustled through the trees, and the lonely call of their owl drifted into the tree house. Stars winked above. She snuggled deeper. The bed with its feather comforter and mattress top along with the Egyptian cotton sheets was like sleeping inside a cloud.
She turned and stretched out her arms, needing to feel Damon and to prove she wasn’t dreaming. His side of the bed was empty.
Sitting, she frowned. A low sound from the other room caught her attention. “Damon?”
The moan came again. Caitie grabbed the robe she’d used after her shower and left bed. She found him thrashing on the couch. A slanting beam of moonlight revealed a face twisted with pain.
He called out, flung out his arm. Caitie quickly realized he was trapped in the throes of a nightmare. Unsure what to do, she went to him. She knew from the many vets on her ranch not to touch him in case he thought she was an enemy and tried to attack in defense of whatever stalked his mind.
She turned on the lights. He’d removed his leather pants and slept in his own skin. A quilt was twisted beneath him, half on the floor. She couldn’t stop herself from staring. Even asleep, the man had the most impressive body she’d ever seen.
She frowned when she spotted a long, deep, ragged scar furrowed his upper thigh from just shy of groin to his knee. The muscles were taut, and spasms rippled beneath the puckered skin. Good lord. No wonder he limped. She sucked in her breath and sat on the edge of the couch. She knew enough to know he was both lucky to be alive and to have his leg.
“Damon. I’m here. Can you hear me?” As though she were gentling a frightened horse, she spoke soft and low, calling his name. At the same time, she slid her palm up his thigh, her touch faint and gentle, applying more pressure so she didn’t startle him. When she was able to touch him fully, she began massaging his thigh with her thumbs, using long, smooth strokes.
Trapped in his nightmare, Damon lashed out. He heard shouting, screaming, and shrieking. He tried to stand. Couldn’t. Hurt—bad. His men. They needed help. Ambushed. Fuck.
“Can’t get them. Can’t save them.” The pain in his thigh took his breath away. Had he lost his leg? The pain. Breathing was labored, and his heart pounded. He was weak, everything going gray, as though his life was draining from his body.
“It’s all right, Damon. You’re dreaming.”
The gentle voice of an angel threaded through his nightmare, soothing, calming. Heaven? He tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright. “Not—dream. My men. Killed them.”
“Wake now. You’re safe. You’re with me.”
Safe. The soft, low voice promised he was safe.
“No!” He didn’t deserve to be safe. Or soothed. His men were dead. He was not. Families destroyed. His fault. Pain had him gasping. Pain he deserved.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Sydney St. Claire is the pseudonym of Susan Edwards, author of 14 Historical Native American/Western/Paranormal romances and the author of the popular “White” Series.
Sydney loves writing and sharing stories of love, happiness and dreams come true with her readers. She credits her mother for her writing success. Encouraged to read as a child, she always preferred happy endings which meant romances were her favorite genre. Sydney takes her readers into the world of erotica romance where her characters come together in explosive passion as they solve life’s problems and find true love along with the best sex our hero and heroine have ever experienced.
Sydney’s office is quite crowded with three dogs at her feet and five cats to keep her company while she writes. Three cats always insist on beds on her desk, barely leaving enough room for her monitor and keyboard. Life gets fun when all five insist on supervising…
When not writing, she enjoys crafts of all sorts including quilting, sewing, cross-stitch and knitting. She and her husband of 30 + years are avid gardeners. He takes care of the veggies, and Susan is in charge of the ‘pretties’. Her medicine wheel garden is in a contact state of war: flowers vs. weeds. Sadly, right now the weeds are wining…
While writing, she listens to a wide variety of music. Her current favorites are Blackmore’s Night and David Lanz.
Syndey St. Claire will be awarding a randomly drawn commenter via Rafflecopter a $20 Amazon/BN gift card.a Rafflecopter giveaway