and those guests are walking in with no supervision, no warning to the members, no intro to the rules.”
Valerie hunched slightly. Had she done something wrong?
“Not your fault, girl,” Sam said. “We’ve discussed free tickets in the past, but there are too many liability and legal issues.”
Gripping her shoulder, Ghost turned her to face him.
“You didn’t get anything to read or have to take a class?” he growled. “No one was assigned to watch you? No special collar or—”
“No.”
Those were two unhappy Doms. No, all three. The bartender appeared just as displeased.
“The night keeps getting better and better.” Ghost kept his hand on her shoulder. “Cullen, give me one of those supervision collars we store behind the bar.”
“Good plan.” Bending down, Cullen rummaged, then set a golden leather collar on the bar top with a marker. “What name goes on the tag?”
Both Sam and Ghost spoke: “Mine.”
Cullen laughed. “You have a woman, Sam. I’m giving this one to Ghost.” He wrote, “GHOST” on a tag and inserted it under a plastic cover on the collar.
“I don’t understand.” Valerie stared at the collar, feeling like when she was five and got lost in the winding alleys of a souk.
She really should have stayed home.
“Now, lass, don’t fret.” Ghost showed her what was written on the collar tag.
“Permission to play must be cleared with: GHOST.”
He continued, “Anyone scening with you needs to know you didn’t get the background and medical checks required for members. Since you didn’t attend an orientation class, I’ll vet your play partner and help you negotiate if needed.”
She frowned. “The regular members go through all that?”
“We do.” Linda tapped a finger on the bar. “Remember, though, simply because someone passed a background check doesn’t mean they’re good people. The club does try—”
“Did try,” Sam muttered.
“—but there aren’t any guarantees. Not in here, or in regular dating, or in life, for that matter.”
Huffing out a breath, Valerie smiled. “A disclaimer is reassuring, actually. I wouldn’t trust a place promising utter safety.”
Ghost chuckled, then lifted the collar. “You’ll wear this. Anyone who wants to play with you needs to find me and get permission first. Agreed?”
In answer, she gathered her hair and moved it out of the way, then lifted her chin.
He buckled the collar around her neck, his hands competent and warm. The collar had a soft fleece lining, and rather than being terrifying, felt almost comforting.
“Ever worn one before?” Ghost asked softly.
“No.” Barry made his slaves wear them. She’d never agreed, despite his annoyance. Because she wasn’t a slave.
She frowned, and the question spilled out. “Do you have slaves?”
He stood close enough she felt the warmth of his body. “No, lass. I’m single and unattached.” Sadness dimmed his eyes for a moment, then he pulled her hair out of her grip and let the strands fall over her shoulders. “The collar looks good on you.”
Shouting sounded from the back, catching his attention. Brows together in a dark frown, he glanced at Cullen. “From what I’ve seen this evening, Wrecker’s hired DMs are worthless.”
“Agreed, buddy. You going to check on whatever’s happening?”
“What else?” Ghost nodded to Sam. “She’s with you.”
“Got her.”
Ghost squeezed Valerie’s arm. “I’ll find you in a bit. Enjoy your night.”
Limping slightly, he walked away, his shoulders wide and military-straight.
And the tingle from his touch lingered. “A DM is a dungeon monitor, right?” She remembered that much from the group she and Barry had joined.
“Right. They’re supposed to make sure things run smoothly and according to the rules.” The irritation in Sam’s voice left no doubt about how he felt. “Josie was right about things having gone to hell. When’s Z flying back?”
“Just arrived home a few hours ago,” Cullen told him.
Sam grunted.
Who was Z? Well, not her business, now was it? “Is Ghost a DM?” Valerie asked.
“Not these days, pet.” Cullen started mixing a drink. “However, for some men, duty is a calling. Even being discharged doesn’t release them.”
She gazed after Ghost, seeing his firm stride, head up as he disappeared into a hallway at the back of the club. “Apparently not.”
“Time to show you the place. If you want to be introduced to a Dom, let me know.” Linda slid off the barstool.
Did she want to meet Doms? Not really. Yet that was why she’d come.
Or had she come just to see Finn again?
“Stay with at least one other submissive, missy.” Master Sam gave Linda’s hair a tug. “Or I’ll tan your ass.” Delivered in a low growl, the threat sounded too real.