Stray

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Stray

ISBN # 978-1-78184-213-3

©Copyright Erin Lark 2013

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January 2013

Edited by Amy Parker

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Total-e-burning
and a
sexometer
of
2.

This story contains 160 pages, additionally there is also a
free excerpt
at the end of the book containing 8 pages.

STRAY

Erin Lark

Being human isn’t easy, but being a wolf is even worse.

For Alyssa, life as a stray has never been easy. And finding a shifter-friendly Dom is close to impossible, especially after the hell she went through with the last one. Beaten and scarred, she’s determined to take her life back, one skin at a time. Even if it means falling for Dylan—one of the best alphas in the region—who’d much rather prepare her for another Dom than keep her for himself.

The last time Dylan gave his heart to another, the bitch promptly threw it on the ground and stomped on it. Subs be damned if he’s going to let it happen again. But when Alyssa—a redhead who’s just as fiery in person as she is in bed—steps into his life, he’ll do whatever he can to keep her safe. Even if that means falling in love with her.

Can Alyssa learn to trust another Dom and accept her skin as a wolf? Or will Dylan lose her to the scars from her past?

Dedication

To everyone who’s supported me through times of pain and healing. It is with their guidance and support that I was able to write
Stray
.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

Sprite: The Coca-Cola Company

Jell-O: Kraft Food Holdings, Inc.

Chapter One

I traced the rim of my glass with a finger as condensation leaked down its sides.
He’s late.
He wasn’t coming—I was sure of it. He’d probably realised how incapable I was at being a sub. At being
his
sub. Inexperienced. Fake.

I drew in a deep breath. Held it. Released it.

Inhale.

I filled my lungs with air.

Exhale.

My muscles tensed. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My heart skipped a few beats, restarting a moment later when the electronic music picked up again. I reached down to my right hip.
Fuck.
I’d left my phone in one of the lockers, along with my purse. Not that I could’ve stashed it in my ankle-length skirt, anyway. But it would’ve been nice to check my phone, to see if there was a reason for him being so late.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting there waiting for Dylan. We’d agreed to meet in one of Boston’s newer clubs, and against his insistence, I’d driven here on my own. I’d arrived half an hour early, and he was at least half an hour late. I stared at my drink, at the now absent ice cubes and the liquid I had yet to taste.

Not that I’d planned on drinking, anyway. Any sub knows not to drink when she plans to play, especially when she’s meeting a new Dom—or in my case, accepting a new one. But it was a strong enough excuse to remain at the bar, away from the main floor, the playrooms and the other Doms without subs or slaves of their own.

The dress code for this particular club was fairly casual, and after going through the few outfits I had, I’d settled on a red corset and black skirt that almost kissed the floor. The corset itself caused my thirty-four inch waist to shrink to a thirty-two, but it probably would’ve worked even better if I’d bothered to train with it first.
Doms don’t like subs with thirty-something-inch waists.
I growled under my breath. I figured no one else would notice.

I sighed, not entirely surprised when the breath caught in the back of my throat. I could’ve just as easily wussed out and gone home, but I’d been away from the scene for long enough.
Too long.
Gathering the little courage I had, I swept my vision across the room, averting my eyes whenever I made eye contact with someone else.

The only person I was interested in meeting tonight was Mr Roik.
If he ever shows up.
We’d known one another for years. I’d even been a sub to him a few times in the past, but play had always been supervised by my last Dom—a sorry excuse for a Master if there ever was one. So of course, when I’d moved back to the area, Dylan was at the top of my list.

Finally, I spotted him just entering the room, his squared shoulders accenting a six-foot frame. Surprisingly enough, he was decked out in a suit, black blazer and all. The keys hanging on his left hip told me he was purely dominant, especially within a scene such as this. Heat brushed my cheeks, and I instinctively stared down at the wooden floor. I glanced down towards the padlock attached to my collar, and I played around with the idea of locking it or taking the damned thing off altogether.

Jesus, Alyssa, get a grip.
But it was too late.

A shadow fell over me and I looked up, right into Dylan’s amber eyes.

“Interesting choice of jewellery you’ve got there,” he said, casually gliding over to me. He placed one finger under the band of leather, and I dropped my gaze.

I didn’t care if he wasn’t my Master yet or not. He was a Dom, and he’d earned my respect.

Dylan lifted my chin with a hand. He leaned in to kiss me on my forehead, his short stubble scratching my skin.
Remember to breathe.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Dylan began, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. “Marnie required a little more care this afternoon than her usual. I tried calling you but figured you didn’t have your cell on you.”

I nodded. “It’s in one of the lockers. I didn’t want to go and get it in case I missed you.” I furrowed my brow. “Is everything okay?” Marnie was one of his long-time slaves, and one whom I’d met on more than one occasion.

“Sexual frustration.” Dylan smiled.

“But I thought you two weren’t…?” I paused, figuring it wasn’t my place to ask.

“Not normally, no. But I sometimes give her what she needs. It would seem I gave her too much, too soon.”

“Sensation overload?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much. It took some time to bring her back out of subspace.”

I nodded again. “Will she be okay?” I asked, having experienced subspace and the drop afterwards a few times myself.

“Yes. I had her drink some water and have her wrapped under a bunch of blankets. But if my phone goes off, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut things short.”

I took a breath.
At least he takes care of his subs.
It was something Dylan had proven to me time and time again, not just from his affection towards Marnie, but also his reputation among the other subs within the community. Myself included.

I hadn’t been with him since before Anthony and I had moved out of the area, but we’d seen one another at a few of the local munches after my trip back to Boston.
Not a trip.
A trip meant I would be leaving—that I would be going back to
him
. I wasn’t.

Dylan’s gaze burned against my skin as he did the usual head-to-toe inspection. I decided to do the same. His skin was tanned—naturally, not the getting-fried-in-a-tanning-bed kind. My fingers ached as I stared at his brown curls. I wanted nothing more than to comb my way through them.

A strand of red hair fell in front of my face, and I went to push it behind my ear. Dylan’s hand wrapped around my wrist, halting me.

“May I?” he asked, his words gentle when compared to the determined look in his eyes.

I nodded, and he let go. I clasped my hands in front of me and bowed my head as he tucked the stray hairs behind my ear, adding them to the ponytail I’d pulled back earlier in the evening.

“You have the most exquisite eyes,” he said, continuing his inspection. “Contacts?”

I smiled. “I don’t think they’d ever let me leave the lab if I had violet eyes, do you?”

He grinned. “Perhaps not.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “They’re normally brown, aren’t they?”

I bobbed my head. And it was at that moment I had to ask myself what the hell I was doing at a club, standing in front of one of the best alphas in the region. Our meeting hadn’t happened by chance, not in the least. And yet, it almost seemed as if things were moving too fast.
Don’t be desperate.
It was easier said than done, especially when my best partners over the better part of a year had been a series of vibrators.

Dylan cleared his throat, then said, “So, you never really told me what brought you back to the area. I take it Anthony is out of the picture?”

Thank God.
“Completely.” My voice came out in a growl, and Dylan raised an eyebrow. “He’s not really the kind of Dom I expected him to be.”
Not human.

His eyes flickered, and I could read his unspoken words as if they had been my own.
He never owned you?
“Not a Master, then?”

He enslaved me.
I bit my tongue. It wasn’t something he needed to know. “Not to me, no, and not with my consent.”

Dylan shook his head, opening his mouth as if to say something before thinking better of it.

It’s not his place to comment on the actions of another Dom, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.
I bit back the urge to blurt everything out. Dylan was still new to me, even if we had shared a playroom with one another in the past.
Sex is just sex.
I’d only trusted him because my Master…my Dom at the time had told me to. But compared to Anthony, Dylan was almost too gentle. Kind. Not the type of Dom I was used to at all.

I fidgeted with the open lock of my collar, wondering if meeting up with him had been a good idea. Up until tonight, I hadn’t worn my collar out in public. In front of the mirror safely at home, yes, but never in public. The band still felt raw around my neck.

I swallowed. He hadn’t said a word. His breathing hadn’t changed. And that was the most infuriating thing about Doms. They practised control so much that when they lost it, it was hard to tell.