Masters at Arms - By Kallypso Masters Page 0,55

sergeant looked down and twirled his wedding band. “Thinking I’ll move to Denver and start a fetish club.”

Marc wasn’t sure what the appropriate response would be, so he remained silent. Was the man serious or joking? Then he realized he was dead serious.

“Well, maybe I’ll just join your club. I was known as Master Marco back in the day.”

Montague laughed. “Thought you might be like-minded. Saw you and Orlando at a fetish club in L.A. just before we deployed.”

Oh, shit. They were lucky they weren’t busted. Then again, if the master sergeant was there, too…. Talk about a “Top.”

Montague grew serious again. “My wife Joni and I talked about owning our own club. Those years between the Gulf War and Kosovo were some of the best in our marriage. Total power exchange.” He remained lost in the memories.

Marc had never found a woman willing to do a power exchange with him. He realized he hadn’t even come close with Melissa.

Could he ever open himself up to another woman? Everyone thought the Dom in the relationship had the power, but that was nonsense. The sub held all the power. He’d like to find a woman he could trust completely.

The master sergeant continued, breaking into his thoughts. “We wanted to show others how satisfying a Dom/sub relationship could be for the right couples. Planned to live off my pension and open our house up for weekend classes and BDSM scening.”

“I’d like to meet her someday.”

Adam looked at him, pain filling his eyes. “I lost her to cancer two years ago.”

Shit. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. I didn’t know.” Maybe that explained something about why the man had been such a hard ass in those early months after Marc had joined the Marine unit. He sure didn’t seem like one once you got talking with him.

Silence fell between them. Uncomfortable, Marc blurted out, “Until I sort out my future plans, I’d be happy to help you get the club started. I’ll need a diversion.”

“I might just take you up on that.” Montague stood. “Now, get better so you can get home and start living again.”

Marc realized he hadn’t started to live in the first place until he’d joined the Navy and then been assigned to the Marines. If he was discharged, would that end? The thought of what lay ahead scared him. He’d changed since enlisting. He wanted his life to stand for something. He definitely had no plans to work at the family’s ski resort. No, he was going to make a difference in some way.

Damned straight.

But doing what?

* * *

Two months later, January 2005, Ramstein Air Force Base, Ramstein, Germany

“Take cover!”

Grenade. Move. Damn it, move! Damián slammed his body against his buddies, trying to push them away before the damned thing went off. The world exploded. Blood. Pain. So damned much pain. Grant and Wilson standing over him. Damián tried to get up. What had fallen on him? Dizzy. Sarge. Where was Sarge? Damián opened his eyes and saw his sergeant’s bloody brains spilled over his chest.

“Madre de Dios! No! No! No!”

Damián jolted awake from a dead sleep, his screams reverberating through his ears. Sweat trickled into his eyes. His heart pounded like a sledgehammer, igniting a responsive throbbing in his right foot. The lingering effects of his nightmare receded by slow degrees, but the pain in his foot persisted. He sat up, shoving the sheet aside, and reached down to massage away the ache.

Thin air. He stared at the bandaged stump above where his foot should be.

Fuck.

He closed his eyes and slumped back against the pillow and sheet, both of them cold and wet from his sweat. How many times would it take before he stopped reaching for something that wasn’t there? He’d left the damned thing behind in Fallujah. But the phantom continued to haunt and taunt him every time he fell asleep.

Damián stared up at the ceiling. What in the hell was he going to do when they sent him home? They’d told him he’d be taking rehab in San Diego for a few months. But what were they rehabilitating him for?

Would he ever be able to ride his Harley again? Hold down a job?

Carry Savannah to their Laguna cave?

Well, he didn’t have to worry about that one. He’d had dreams of returning home to her as a man, finding her, and convincing her she belonged with him. He wanted to take care of her, slay whatever dragons pursued her, and love her the way she should