.
.
.
The click of the collar locking around my throat sent a shiver through my entire body.
Master Kane’s fingers lingered for a moment, tracing the leather against my skin as if sealing his claim. His gray eyes burned into mine with quiet intensity.
“On your feet,” he commanded softly.
I rose on shaky legs. He stood up from the throne-like chair, towering over me, and took the silver ring on my collar between his fingers.
With a gentle but firm tug, he led me through the club like a pet on display.
Every step made me hyper-aware of how wet I was, how exposed I felt in the short black dress. People watched us pass. Some smiled knowingly.
He stopped in a semi-private alcove with a large padded bench, soft red lighting, and various implements neatly arranged on a nearby table.
“
