Submission

Considering what the building housed, it was a lot more normal than Sable had expected. Feeling more than a hint of trepidation, she walked to the entrance to enter. It was like stepping into another world. A foreign, strange, alien world that looked painful and bewildering. What did people get out of this?

Sable eyed the leather and vinyl costumes in one section as she slipped past, thinking they were hot—not in a sexually attractive way, but imagining how much one must sweat inside them. Her eyes widened when she came upon a hood with a zipper for the mouth and no other openings. It baffled her that people voluntarily submitted to having something like that put on them, taken off only at another person’s discretion.

With a small shudder, she bypassed a selection of crops on a handsome mahogany stand. As she walked past the whips, she couldn’t resist reaching out to touch one of the strips, finding it soft and supple. It could probably still do a lot of damage in the wrong hands.

Finally, she navigated her way through the BDSM products barring her way, until she arrived at the front counter. To her surprise, Julian Talos himself was working the counter. Her research had led her to think he wasn’t often so hands-on with the customer side of his business, and she was relieved not to have to try to track him down.

Head bent, he was focusing on something, giving her a moment to observe him discreetly. His hair was longer than she remembered it, secured at the back of his neck in a black leather band that contrasted nicely with the pale blond locks. Had he been that tall and solidly built the previous time she’d met him? Maybe, but she hadn’t paid much attention. She was paying attention now. To her surprise, he wasn’t in some outrageous bondage costume; instead wearing a white button-down shirt and black pants.

“Have you seen enough?” he asked without looking up.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks at being caught, and she forced herself to cross the remaining distance to the counter. “Julian Talos?” She caught her breath when he looked up, caught off-guard by the unusual deep lavender shade of his eyes. Purple eyes were easy to acquire via contacts, but something about this man suggested he wasn’t one to hide behind artifice. He’d worn sunglasses on their previous meeting, so she had no basis for comparison.

lips curved at the edges, but that was his only change of expression. “Yes. Who are

her lips, suddenly nervous. “You probably don’t remember me, but we met

a convention?” At her head shake, he asked, “What

he took it. She tried to ignore the spark of electricity that seemed to singe her at his touch. “We met a couple of years ago, when

I don’t

“We only met once. I was picking up

narrowed.

stage name. Her real name is Sabrina

and the change was breathtaking. “I remember Sabrina, but

away the papers he’d been examining before leaning a bit closer to her. She had

softly. “Believe me, I was as

difficult. Her sister would have been twenty-one