Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(28)

He saw Mistress Olivia with a new submissive, a woman close to her own age—an executive type with classically styled hair, carefully applied makeup, and a beautiful, expensive leather dress. Since she’d worn the prettiest stilettos he’d ever seen, he’d allowed her to keep them on.

When he located Mistress Anne, he’d have to point them out.

If he ever found the woman.

He spotted Galen, Vance, and Sally watching a wax play scene. “Have you seen Mistress Anne?”

“You want Anne?” Vance’s eyebrows lifted.

Ben nodded.

“Sorry, Ben. I haven’t seen her,” Galen said with a frown.

Their reaction made him wonder if they disliked the thought of someone so big and ugly playing with their pretty Mistress. Too bad.

He headed for the bar. Cullen would probably know where Anne was.

The bartender was moving fast, swamped with the crowd around his long oval bar. The only empty barstool was beside the barmaid station. Uzuri stood there, waiting with her tray and a list of orders.

Ben studied her. When she’d come in at the start of the night, she’d seemed…off. Her coloring tonight was more gray than brown, and she moved as if she was exhausted. It wasn’t his job to babysit the submissives, but maybe he’d give one of the Masters a heads-up.

All of the other Shadowlands trainees had found their Doms, leaving the little prankster behind. The single Doms had tried their hardest to win her over though. And she was damned pretty. With her wide-set dark brown eyes, skin the color of lightened coffee, and high cheekbones, she reminded him of Brandy in the Cinderella musical.

Z had said he didn’t know if she had it in her to pick a Dom—that she might not be willing to take the risk. Ben hadn’t understood his reasoning at the time.

But last winter an altercation had occurred at a bachelorette party. Whereas Rainie had been upset about her obnoxious friends, Uzuri had been terrified at the potential for violence. She must have some ugly shit in her past.

In the years Ben had worked here, he’d discovered how often abusers preyed upon submissives. Those unfamiliar with BDSM didn’t always realize that dominance and submission wasn’t a competition—it was a waltz. One person got to lead. But if the other partner was being trampled, then it sure as hell wasn’t a dance.

Uzuri looked up as he slid onto a stool beside her. “Ben, what are you doing in here?”

“Lookin’ for Mistress Anne. Have you seen her?”

Her eyes grew wide. “I didn’t believe them when they said you and she were… Ben, that’s not a good idea. Sure, she’s pretty, but she’s also a—”

“I know.” Fuck, there was no end.

Cullen came over and damned if his mouth didn’t thin at the sight of Ben. “Tell me you’re not here looking for Anne.”

Well, hell. He’d thought he and Cullen were friends. They went drinking now and then. Had shared job horror stories—Cullen from being a cop and firefighter, Ben from the military. After imbibing more alcohol, they’d even ventured into uglier tales—how Cullen had lost his fiancée to a fire, how Ben had been dumped by his wife when deployed.

Ben gave him a level stare. “I’m telling you I’m looking for Anne.”

“Buddy, listen—”

“Nope.” Ben rose and then hesitated. “Rather than worrying about a woman fully capable of caring for herself, you might check out the trainee who obviously can’t.”

He glanced at the little submissive to show who he meant, then turned his back on both of them and continued scouting.




Well, honestly. Why did Ben have to sic a Master on her? Uzuri frowned after the big security guard, then—keeping her gaze down—pushed the drink tickets toward Master Cullen. “All these and Master Sam’s Linda wants a glass of white wine.”

Ben and Cullen were equally huge—and in some ways, they both made her nervous. Some people preferred big guys. In fact, her fellow Shadowkittens sometimes teased their Doms saying, “Size really does matter.”

Maybe a bigger cock was a good thing—she didn’t particularly care—but when it came to men in general? She’d far rather have a smaller one.

A punch from a smaller man didn’t break bones.

“Uzuri, eyes on me.” Master Cullen’s gaze felt like the pressure change before a storm moved in.

Bollocks, as Mistress Olivia might say. She looked up obediently.

“You do look tired. Stressed.” His heavy brows drew together. “What’s going on, love?”

“Work stress.” Almost an honest answer. She’d been moving up the corporate ladder so life was never stress-free. The trouble was…work wasn’t the problem.

“Look, Cullen. I found a bar ornament for you.” At the far end, a Dom dumped a submissive on the bar top. “She’s already gagged.”

Master Cullen held up a hand in a wait gesture before frowning at Uzuri.

His sub Andrea thought he resembled Boromir in Lord of the Rings. Unfortunately, Boromir now looked as frustrated and pissed off as when Elrond refused to hand over the ring. “When your serving time is over, you find me. We’re going to chat about stress.”

“Yes, Sir.” As he moved toward his new bar ornament, Uzuri relaxed. She could talk about stress all day. Other things, no.