Michaels, Skye - Melodie's Song [The Black Dahlia Hotel 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

The Black Dahlia Hotel 3

Melodie’s Song

Art gallery owner, Melodie Buxton, was attacked and stabbed on

the street in Tribeca. Upon waking in the hospital with a knife

wound on her face, she remembered the dark presence that held

her barely conscious body and attempted to stop the bleeding, but

she didn’t know his name.

Dom Logan Hawk, lead singer and guitar in Dark Place, had seen

the attack. He stopped to help the beautiful young woman. As he

put pressure on her wound and felt her pulse under his hands and

her blood flow through his fingers, he knew that their souls had

bonded.

Logan’s dangerous stalker, Karin Sanders, is determined to get rid

of Melodie in any way she can. When Karin attacks Melodie on the

street outside Rockefeller Plaza, Logan and Melodie retreat to the

new BDSM hotel in Florida owned by his friend, Jack Dalton

Brown.

Can Logan overcome Melodie’s need to hide her scar as well as the

malevolent intentions of the stalker and compose a happy ever

after?

Genre: BDSM, Contemporary
Length: 43,395 words

MELODIE'S SONG

The Black Dahlia Hotel 3

Skye Michaels

EVERLASTING CLASSIC

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic

MELODIE'S SONG
Copyright © 2014 by Skye Michaels
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-513-4

First E-book Publication: October 2014

Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including
electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without
express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance
to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of Melodie's Song by Skye Michaels
from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also,
thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or
group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing
rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this
book.

The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying
readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This is Skye Michaels’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect
Skye Michaels’s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION

For all of my family, friends and readers.
I hope you enjoy this new series set in my own backyard,

beautiful South Florida. Sometimes we who live here take it for
granted.

Life happens. Enjoy the journey.
With many thanks to my beta readers, Patricia Walker, Jennifer

Torlone, Donnette Hawley and Eileen Dix for all their help.

With special thanks to my old friend, Mary Elizabeth Wert, for

her help with location advice in regard to her Tribeca neighborhood.

The Black Dahlia Hotel Series:
Mikaela and Dillon’s story in Mikaela’s Debut, Book 1
Vaughn and Paul’s story in Vaughn’s Awakening, Book 2

MELODIE'S SONG

The Black Dahlia Hotel 3

SKYE MICHAELS

Prologue

The Intensive Care Unit at New York-Presbyterian/Lower Manhattan
Hospital, New York, New York, Tuesday night, November 11, 2013

Melodie Buxton was not asleep, but she was not awake, either.

She could move her eyeballs from side to side, but her vision was
obstructed by…bandages? And then she remembered. The blood. The
pain. The fear.

It all came back to her. She had been walking down the street after

closing up and leaving the gallery for the  night.  She was heading
toward her brownstone a few blocks away  when she had been
accosted by what appeared to be a homeless person.  He’d smelled
bad, and his eyes had not looked normal.  She’d  tried to brush past
him, but then he stuck out his arm and connected with her midsection.
Before she knew it, a knife was coming toward her.  And then she’d
felt a sharp, jagged pain as the knife sliced the side of her face.  She
had gone down to the dirty, gray pavement.  She didn’t know what
happened after that.

As she began to stir in the high hospital bed with the side railings

up, she heard a door open. The face of a pretty, black nurse swam into
her field of vision. “You’re safe, hon. You’re in the ICU at New

Melodie's Song

York-Presbyterian Hospital. You’re going to be okay. The doctor will
be in to see you soon. Just rest now.”

She was in the ICU? That was serious. She glanced down and saw

the faded floral print of the ubiquitous cotton hospital gown, the blood
pressure cuff on her finger, and the IV in her arm. She was connected
to a ringer bag that was probably saline, and there were a couple of
other smaller bags hanging from the rolling stand that were most
likely antibiotics and a sedative drip. She was not a stranger to
hospitals, after having seen her beloved grandmother through the last
days of her battle against cancer.

Melodie felt sore all over and her face hurt some, but the pain was

dulled, as though she was heavily medicated. How long had she been
here,  unconscious?  Had anyone called her family?  Her mother and
stepdad  lived in Phoenix, and her sister lived with her husband and
two kids in Brooklyn.  Her best friend, Pansy Nicholas, would be
worried and wondering why she couldn’t reach her.  She needed her
phone. Where was her handbag and briefcase?

The pretty nurse, whose nametag said “Shaneka Jones,” rushed

back in. “Now, I told you to rest and relax. Your BP and heart rate
just spiked. The doctor will be right in to talk to you.” She shook her
head. “I know you are scared and have questions. Try to settle down.”
She fussed around the room, straightened bedclothes and fluffed
pillows as she kept an eye on the monitors behind the bed. Suddenly,
the bed tilted and Melodie gave a frightened squeak. “It’s okay. The
bed is just adjusting your position to alleviate pressure and the
possibility of bedsores. It automatically changes position every fifteen
minutes.”

“Why do I need that? How long have I been here?”
“You’ve been in a medically induced coma for a week. The doc

thought it was time for you to wake up and rejoin the living. So, rise
and shine. Oh, here he is.”

A short, balding, pleasant-looking man in a white coat with a

stethoscope sticking out of his pocket hurried into the room. “Hello,

Skye Michaels

Melodie. I’m Dr. John Goldman. I’m the plastic surgeon who did the
corrective procedure on your knife wound.” He smiled, but he looked
like a snake oil salesman to her.  She was terrified.  He glanced over
her head at the monitors,  as Shaneka had done earlier.  “Okay, I can
see you need information and not bedside manner.  Calm down and
let’s talk.”

“Yes, please. Tell me what’s going on.”
“You were extremely lucky. The knife wound along your hairline

at the temple was jagged and fairly deep, but there was no damage to
the optic nerve. I’ve done the best I can for the time being in repairing
the incision. You will need further remedial procedures to minimize
scarring. A little creative hairstyling in the meantime will help
disguise the scars. Whether your body forms keloid scars or not will
determine how much corrective surgery you will need.”

“So, I’m going to have a knife scar on my face? Is that what

you’re telling me?”

“I’m afraid so, my dear, but don’t despair. We will work on it

until we have the best possible result, and I really don’t think it’s
going to be that bad when all is said and done.”

“Doctor, thank you for all you’ve done, but you are obviously not

a thirty-something woman living in Manhattan with a knife scar on
her face. An act of random violence is going to change my life
forever. Did they catch the homeless man who stabbed me?”

“No. The police will want to interview you as soon as you’re up to

it. A passerby saw the attack and called for help, but he didn’t see
your attacker’s face. He stayed with you until the ambulance arrived.
The attacker ran into an alley and had disappeared by the time the
police cruiser got there.” He shook his head. “That is unfortunate.
Perhaps you can give them a better description.”

“Has my family been notified?”
“Yes. They just went down to the cafeteria to get something to

eat. Your parents, sister, and your friend, Pansy, have been taking
turns sitting with you and talking to you. They’ll be back in a few

Melodie's Song

minutes. Just try to rest now. I’ll come back to change the dressings
and admire my handiwork in the morning.”

Melodie’s parents, sister, and best friend rushed into the room

when the nurse advised them that she was awake. Tears were running
down her mother’s, Candy’s and Pansy’s faces.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry, but you’re alive and are going to be fine.

That’s the most important thing.” Melodie could feel the tears welling
from her own eyes when she saw the lines of worry on her mother’s
face—but she didn’t know how fine she was actually going to be.

Her stepdad, Sam, stood back while the women rushed to the bed.

His concerned look said that he had no idea what to do about this. He
had always been great with oil changes, flat tires, and small repairs at
her townhouse. He obviously didn’t have any idea what to do with
three—four if you counted Pansy—crying women. “Thank God
you’re okay, Punkin’. I’m going to wait outside for a bit and let you
girls talk.”

Melodie turned her head and watched him walk through the door

in the glass wall fronting the ICU unit to the waiting area. He’d been
the rock in their family since he had married her mother when she was
twelve, and she adored him. Her dad had left them behind for another
woman, moved to California, and started another family. They had
rarely seen him after that. Sam sat down and picked up what looked
like a tattered magazine that had seen better days.

“Poor Sam. He must have read that Guns ‘N Ammo magazine fifty

times in the last week. I bet he’s memorized it. I don’t know what we
would have done without him running for coffee and food and just
being Sam.”

Melodie’s older sister, Candy, leaned against the side of the bed

and took her hand. “Are you in pain, Mel? Do you want me to call the
nurse?” It was obvious she didn’t know what to say or do, either. She
was good with scraped knees and elbows, and Transformers that
didn’t want to perform as advertised, but this was apparently outside
her scope of expertise.

Skye Michaels

Pansy stepped up to the other side of the bed and patted her other

hand. “Glad you’re back with us, Mel. You had us all scared shitless.”
That was Pansy. She cut right to the chase, and she didn’t take
prisoners.

“How bad is it, Panz?”
“It’s not great, Mel, but it will get better. We’ll get you a good

haircut that will screen some of the scar, and Dr. Goldman says there
is still a lot more work he can do on it.”

Melodie closed her eyes. She could see that this was going to be a

long road. “Does Jasper have the gallery open?”

“Yes. He’s been in a couple times to see you after closing. Don’t

worry about the gallery. Everything is fine there.”

Yeah. Everything was going to be just fine. She closed her eyes

and felt the tears continue to leak out and down her cheeks.

Melodie's Song

Chapter One

The Paint Splatters Gallery, Tribeca Section of New York, New York,
Wednesday morning, July 1, 2015

Melodie watched from behind the display panel near the front

door. That guy was standing in front of the gallery window again. He
stopped at the same time every morning to just look in the window
and stare at the large abstract painting she had displayed there. It was
her own work,  and not for sale.  The painting had helped her work
through some of the anger she still felt every time she glanced  in a
mirror.  She never really looked.  The rest of her pain she  kept as
private as possible.  The guy she had been seeing at the time of the
knife attack had bailed when he saw the angry red scar on her face.
He wasn’t up to the challenge, it seemed.

By putting the painting in the window of the gallery, she was

displaying the only face she was willing to show the public. Someday
it would end up on the wall over her mantel, but right now,  it was
where in needed to be.  The  puckered  scar that ran from her right
temple down to her jawline was better than it had been when she first
came out of the hospital.  Then,  it had been horrible.  Consequently,
she looked in mirrors only when absolutely necessary.  Two
subsequent surgeries and time had made it smaller and lighter in
color, and makeup helped as well. But she was still self-conscious and
wore her hair longer on the right  side in an asymmetrical cut that
screened the scar from most eyes. Dr. Goldman said he wasn’t done
with her yet, and was far from ready to give up.

Skye Michaels

The man standing on the sidewalk was tall and well-built. She

hadn’t ever really seen what he looked like, because he usually had a
hoodie pulled up like he didn’t want to be recognized.  She  had just
gotten  a suggestion of long, dark hair and high cheekbones.  He
usually dressed in black jeans with a lot of leather, but the clothes
looked like they might be designer and expensive.  Today he was
wearing  a black T-shirt and black jeans,  but he somehow looked
prosperous and well tended  to her.  What did he find so compelling
about the painting?  She felt it was her best work, but that might be
because it had been so therapeutic for her. The pastel colors blended
with the  eddies of blood-red  pigment  depicting  the anger that still
swirled through her mind.

The police had never gotten the man who had cut her. Her

handbag and wallet had been found in a garbage can  in an alley
several blocks away, minus her cash and credit cards. Even though he
was still out there, she refused to live her life in fear. He had probably
left the area months or years ago. The city’s homeless were migratory
and moved from place to place, shelter to shelter. She forced herself
to walk to work every day, although she tried to be home before dark.
If she had to stay late to meet a client, she called a cab to take her the
few blocks to her brownstone.  She had made Jasper Winter the
manager of the gallery after the attack, and he had done a great job—
even implementing some of his own merchandising ideas while she
had been in the hospital or laid up at home.  She had another
remediation surgery to look forward to this winter.

Ah, he was moving on. She wished she had the nerve to just walk

outside and ask him what he thought of the painting. Before the
incident, she probably would have done just that, but now she was
hesitant when meeting new people. She hated the shocked look when
they first saw the scar.

* * * *

Melodie's Song

Logan Hawk stood outside the gallery, staring at the astounding

painting that was bathed in a cone of light. The small signature on the
bottom right hand corner of the canvas read “M. Buxton.”  He knew
that was the name of the woman who had been stabbed on the
sidewalk just up the street almost two years ago.  He could hardly
forget that name.  It was etched in  his mind.  He had been walking
toward her when he had seen the stabbing and called 9-1-1. Then he
had stayed with her until the ambulance had taken her away.

Melodie Buxton was beautiful. She was tall, but not too slender,

with glossy, dark hair and haunting deep blue eyes. The way she
moved gave the impression that she might have been a dancer at one
time. He had noticed her over two years ago on his morning walk for
coffee and the newspaper. The gallery was on his daily route from the
loft that contained his apartment and the rehearsal space where the
band practiced, and where he did his composing.

That day, her blood had been all over his hands and clothes. It had

oozed between his fingers. He would never forget the feeling of
desperation he’d felt as he knelt beside her on the pavement. He had
tried to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on the wound he’d
covered with some napkins from the coffee he had been carrying.
They were all he’d had to use. He had never felt the same about
Starbucks again. Blood and cappuccino—not a good combination.

Now once in a while, he caught a glimpse of her in the gallery.

She never came near the window when he was standing there. One of
these days,  he was just going to open the door,  walk in and ask her
how she was doing. After the incident, he’d called the hospital for her
condition. He had not been able to get much information, so he’d just
gone in and made his way to the intensive care unit.  He’d bribed an
orderly and had found out that she was in a medically induced coma.
After that, he had not wanted to intrude on her family. Months later,
when he began seeing her at the gallery occasionally, he noticed that
she stayed away from the windows.  He had seen her on the street a
couple of times, but she kept her head down and turned away from

Skye Michaels

passersby as much as she could. It was clear she was not ready to
interact with people—particularly strangers. He figured she had to be
scarred. The knife wound had been horrific.

A few months ago, he noticed the big abstract painting in the

window and just knew she had painted it.  The swirling red strokes
running through the tranquil pastels spoke of her unresolved anger
and pain.  It had struck a chord in his emotions  as well.  He had his
own demons to slay—unresolved issues from his half breed
childhood, his slightly ambivalent feelings about his BDSM lifestyle,
and mostly the fact that the music he now made was not what he
wanted to be making. In his heart, he wanted to be a jazz pianist like
Keith Jarret or Chick Corea, not a hard rocker.  That painting
somehow seemed to put his feelings in sharp focus for him. The other
guys in the band—Billie Crockett, Keith Ransom, Guy Penrod, and
Tyler Easton—depended on him.  He knew he was the musical glue
that held the group together. His rock songs gave the band their edge,
but his jazz compositions were what fed his soul. He’d like to see the
band gradually evolve toward an “Earth Wind & Fire”  type of jazz
rock emulsion.

Well, he’d better get moving. The guys were waiting in the loft to

start a rehearsal session on the songs for the new album. He was
pretty satisfied with the new pieces. They weren’t the music of his
soul, but rock n’ roll paid the bills and a lot more for all of them. Dark
Place was growing in popularity, especially with the people in the
alternative lifestyles. The allusions to the lifestyle, D/s, and BDSM in
the songs rang a bell with a lot of people—real lifestylers and
wannabes as well. The tour that was scheduled for after the holidays
would tell the story. They were hoping to broaden their audience out
into the vanilla musical world who didn’t really understand the lyrics
but liked the pounding beat of the music. If it were half as successful
as their agent predicted, they would push it full-throttle.

He, personally, would prefer to follow other avenues, but he

wasn’t going to jeopardize the gravy train for all of them. As he was

Melodie's Song

always telling the guys when he had unpopular news to relate, music
was  a business like any other.  That’s why it was called the music
business.  A band had to strike while the iron was hot and make hay
while the sun shined.  Next year they might be old news, but the
investment accounts he insisted on for all of them would be fat and
healthy.  Then they could all do whatever they wanted after their
popularity waned, as he knew it inevitably would. There weren’t that
many performers or bands that stood the test of time like the Stones or
Beatles. He didn’t want to be a washed-up rock musician. He wanted
to contribute something more to the musical landscape. He wanted to
put his Juilliard education to good use.  Crap.  Enough of this
philosophical shit. He had work to do.

Skye Michaels

Chapter Two

Melodie turned to Jasper when the man had walked away. “I wish

I had the nerve to ask him what he finds so compelling about that
painting.”

“Mel, it’s a great painting—full of angst and emotion, but at the

same time, tranquil. I know it never fails to grab me. You have no
idea how many people have come in to ask the price and been
disappointed when I told them that particular piece was not for sale
but that I had others. I wish you’d do more like it.”

“Sorry, Jasper. I’m afraid it’s a one of a kind.”
He shook his head. “I know, Mel. The pain you poured out onto

that canvas…well, I wouldn’t want to see that again. It’s just that the
results are so fantastic. Even Max loves it, and you know what a
Philistine he is. What do we have to do today?”

“We have to crate and ship the three Colonni pieces Sheik Al

Haroun’s third wife bought to her apartment in Dubai.  That will
probably take all day.  I was meeting Pansy for lunch, but she’s
working on next spring’s collection and cancelled.  We haven’t had
much time to get together lately.”

“That always blows my mind. It’s still summer, and she’s working

on next spring.”

“That’s fashion design. She has to get out ahead of the trends.

Let’s start on crating those pieces.”

* * * *

Melodie's Song

Logan walked into the huge, open loft that was comprised of the

entire fourth floor in a turn-of-the-century shoe factory building.  It
was accessed by an old, open freight elevator.  The walls were
exposed red brick, the floors were rough wood, and the ceilings were
festooned with electrical wires and plumbing pipes.  It contained not
only his personal apartment but their rehearsal space, his music studio
and work space, a makeshift office area, his personal BDSM dungeon,
and a small area sectioned off as a bolt-hole apartment for occasional
overnight stays for the guys.  He had two baby grand pianos in his
studio corner near the street-side windows,  as well as other
instruments, including acoustic guitars, two violins, a bass cello, and a
collection of woodwinds.  There was a desk that held his laptop
computer with an audio editing program as well as staff paper for
hand notation of scores.  This was where he did his composing,  both
for himself and for the band.  And still,  the huge space echoed.  The
banks of windows along the outer walls let in lots of light, and the
high ceilings provided excellent acoustics.  In addition, they had
access to the roof,  where he had set up an entertaining area for
relaxing in good weather with a patio and some trees and shrubbery
that deadened some of the city noise.

The loft had been one of his first purchases when the band had

started to branch out from opening for other top-name performers, had
gotten a recording contract, and became successful in their own right.
He had seen no reason to pay for rehearsal or recording space, and it
was totally tax deductible. He loved that word—deductible.
Sometimes he thought he had the soul of a grizzled, crusty old gray-
haired accountant, but someone had to have the business head in this
group of very talented misfits.

Billie, Keith, Guy, and Tyler were sprawled on the slightly tatty

couches and chairs near the rehearsal area,  waiting for him to get
them moving.  The back corner of the loft contained their sound
system and recording equipment as well as their electric  guitars,
keyboard, drums and various other instruments.

Skye Michaels

“Get off your asses and let’s get moving. I swear, if I didn’t show

up, you lazy bastards would be found dead and moldering when
spring came.” He grinned as he took a mouthful of his barely
lukewarm coffee. He usually had to kick some ass to get them started,
but once they got going, they were incredible.

“Quit your bitchin’, Mom. I see you had time to go out for coffee.

Did you stop to moon over the painter, too?” Billie, their keyboard
man and backup vocalist, was grinning like a loon.

“As a matter of fact, I did. Shit. One of these days I’m just going

to walk right in there…”

“And ask her out?” Guy, their bass guitar, was always pushing

him to make contact. The guys had seen how upset he was that day
when he had all but staggered into the loft, covered in her blood. They
had thought he’d been mugged himself, and for a crew of tough guys,
they had all nearly lost it. He knew he’d been a sight worthy of a
horror movie. He had since learned that head wounds bled profusely.

Logan passed copies of the sheet music for the new pieces around

to everyone and waited while they began to read it. Now that their
attention was engaged, they became professional musicians.

Tyler, their drummer, nodded his head. “This is good shit, man. I

see some space for good percussion. Let’s do a run-through.”

They all ambled over and took their positions on the makeshift

stage. Logan flipped the switches for the amps and sound system, and
set a recorder to catch the first run-through for critical analysis later.
The first few attempts contained numerous stops for re-working and
marking-up of the scores, but soon they had all found their places in
the music. There were some playful improvisations that turned out to
be excellent additions.

“Good work, guys. Do you want to break for lunch? We can call

out for delivery.”

Keith, the second guitar, looked up from straightening his sheets

of music. “Why don’t you walk your ass over to that gallery and ask

Melodie's Song

the pretty lady artist out to lunch instead of hanging with us? Believe
it or not, we can feed ourselves.”

“Seconded.” Tyler was the quiet one, but he usually managed to

get his two cents in when he thought it necessary.

“She’s been on your mind for two years, man. Maybe more. It’s

time to do something about it or let it go.” Billie now looked earnest.
“You haven’t been serious about anyone since that day. Yeah, you’ve
played with some subs, but you haven’t committed. Not really.”

“Does anyone have anything else to say about my private life?”
“Sure.” Now Billie was grinning again. “Let me continue.”
“Oh, forget it. I think you might be right. I can’t just keep

standing outside with my nose pressed against the window.” He
racked his guitar, picked up his jacket, and headed out the door.

Skye Michaels

Chapter Three

Jasper looked out the front plate-glass window of Paint Splatters

and jumped.  OMG.  Here he  comes.  The man in black who usually
wore a hoodie was striding up to the front door.  Jasper had been
hoping against hope that he would eventually get up the nerve to
come in. He didn’t know why—he just had a feeling about this guy.
Maybe it was gaytuition  or some dumb thing like that.  Who knew?
Now that he had a view that was up close and head on, he could see
that the man was tall and built like a brick outhouse.  Shit.  He
is…interesting.  He wouldn’t say he was gorgeous.  Max was
gorgeous—tall, dark, muscular, yummy. This guy was…he had to say
it  again—interesting.  His hair was dark and pulled back into a
ponytail. His eyes were a dark chocolate brown. And his face was all
plains and angles.  If pressed he would have to say rugged.  His nose
was slightly hawkish, and his mouth was firm with a chiseled jaw and
deep nasal labial lines.  If it were  him, he’d get a little something-
something. But he could see that wouldn’t be an option for this guy.
He was who he was, take it or leave it.

Jasper thought maybe he had some Native American blood. He

was stunning in his own way—just not classically handsome.  Jasper
thought it was time—actually,  way past time—for Melodie to begin
getting back into life.  He understood that she had been severely
traumatized by the knife attack and the scar on her beautiful face, but
she was still beautiful, and the scar was not nearly as bad as it had
been, or as she thought it was. It wasn’t gone, but it was miles better

Melodie's Song

than the jagged, red horror it had been. He crossed his fingers behind
his back and started toward the door to greet the stranger.

* * * *

Logan hesitated for a moment with his hand on the door handle.

Okay. Time to kick his own ass. Move it, asshole. You’ve wanted to
do this for almost two years. He opened the door and stepped inside.
The faint odor of fresh wood, paint and turpentine assailed his nose. It
was a clean smell. He liked it.

An obviously gay, tall, elegant man with straight blond hair and

striking blue eyes, wearing grey pin-stripe trousers and a pale gray
shirt with the sleeves rolled up, stepped up to greet him. “Welcome to
Paint Splatters. Excuse my appearance. We’re crating some paintings
for shipment in the back. What can I do for you?”

“About the Buxton painting in the window…”
“Sorry. That one is not for sale, but we have several other Buxtons

in the gallery. Would you like to see them?”

“Uh. Okay, but I was really drawn to the one in the window.”
Jasper knew this was his opportunity, and he might not get

another one. “Let me see what I can do. The artist happens to be here
at the moment.” He took a breath. She was going to kick his ass, but
he hoped it would be worth it.  He loved Melodie like a sister, and
sometimes,  little brothers knew what was best.  “Melodie, can you
come up front,  please?  There’s someone here to see you.”  That was
not technically true, but…what the fuck.  In for a penny, in for a
pound. He could only get dead once.

* * * *

Melodie stepped out from the back room. She dusted her hands

off with a rag that she dropped on the contemporary Danish front desk
before she turned toward the door. She gasped quietly. It was him.

Skye Michaels

He’d finally come inside. She was going to kill Jasper. He could have
given her a minute to freshen her lip-gloss  and comb her hair down
over her scar.  Her hair was currently pushed out of the way behind
her  right  ear, and the scar on her face was right out there.  She had
given up trying to hide it from friends and family.  She casually
flipped the hank of hair from behind her ear.  “Thanks, Jasper.”  She
gave him a killing look from behind the sweep of hair before she
stepped toward the stranger with her hand out.  “Good morning.
Melodie Buxton. I own Paint Splatters. What can I do for you?”

The man stepped up and took her hand in a firm handshake. His

fingers were callused and his hand was warm. It felt good against her
skin. “Logan Hawk. Actually, I had a couple of reasons for stopping
in. First, I am interested in the painting in the window.”

“Mr. Hawk, I’m sure Jasper told you that that piece is not for sale,

but we have other canvases of mine in the shop that are available.”

“Yes. He told me, but that one speaks to me.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but I really can’t sell that one.

It’s too personal to me. I have it in the window to share, but I couldn’t
part with it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He smiled, and when he did, his rather

forbidding expression became pleasant. “My second reason for
stopping in was that I…wanted to ask you to have lunch with me.”
She started to protest when he continued. “I know you think I’m a
stranger, but actually, we’ve met before. Well, not actually met. You
were unconscious at the time. I stopped to help you the day you were
attacked, and I’ve wanted to come in and see how you were doing for
some time.”

“You’re the good Samaritan who called 9-1-1? Then let me say

thank you for your help, Mr. Hawk. I was never able to find out your
name. You probably saved my life.”

“Just call me Logan. I don’t know about that.”
“Logan, the doctor told me that, depending on how long it took

for the paramedics to arrive, your putting pressure on the wound

Melodie's Song

might have saved my life. I could have bled out right there on the
sidewalk. So, thank you.”

“In that case, I feel that I can put on a little more pressure now for

that lunch. What do you say?”

False modesty was inappropriate here. Logan Hawk had seen the

cut with fresh blood gushing out. It couldn’t get worse than that. She
hesitated another minute. He pushed a little more. “I just want to see
how you’re doing. It’s only lunch. We can run into the Beach Street
Eatery for a sandwich. No big deal. Come on and humor me.”

She smiled. “Okay, Logan. Let me grab my bag. I’ll be right

back.” She turned toward the back of the gallery.

She heard Logan say to Jasper, “Thanks, man. I know that might

cost you.”

“No problem. She’ll tear me a new one and then forget all about it

in half an hour.”

Melodie had to smile. Jasper definitely had her number. But she

was going to tear him a new one.

* * * *

Logan couldn’t believe his luck. That had gone far better than he

had anticipated. She had seemed hesitant at first, but she had
definitely warmed up. Now, he had to make this opportunity count.
The guys had been right. He hadn’t been really interested in another
woman since the attack on Melodie—maybe since before that.

When she stepped out of the back room, he smiled. She was

beautiful despite that slightly disturbing scar.  It wasn’t as bad as he
had anticipated.  She had combed the glossy,  dark hair that brushed
her shoulders and was longer on one side than the other, and it
screened that side of her face. She’d put on fresh peach lip-gloss. He
could smell it.  It made him want to kiss those soft lips—kiss them
hard and not stop. Cool your jets, Hawk. You don’t want to scare her
back into her bolthole. She was wearing a knit shirt and rust-colored

Skye Michaels

jeans with matching sandals and a big, slouchy shoulder bag.  A big,
orangey-red carnelian stone framed by an ornate, heavy silver bezel
was draped over the shirt. She looked good. Very good. She was tall
for a woman, and her body was supple—like a dancer, but not thin
like a dancer.  She had ample breasts and a delicious ass.  Now he
remembered why she had caught his eye in the first place.  Melodie
Buxton was a looker, and he knew he wouldn’t get tired of looking.

* * * *

Melodie glanced at Logan across the small table at the café. There

was something about him. She thought she might remember seeing
him around before the attack. It would be hard to miss him. He was
tall and solidly built. He appeared to be in his mid to late thirties. His
chest and shoulders were wide, and his legs were long and strong-
looking. His arms under the black T-shirt were muscular. She usually
didn’t care for long hair on a man, but it seemed to suit his hawk-like
features. That was funny. His last name was Hawk. She wondered…

“So, Logan, what do you do for a living? Do you live in the

neighborhood? It was fortuitous that you were passing by when I was
attacked.”

“I had gone out for coffee and the papers. Tell me, did they ever

catch the guy?”

“No. My handbag and empty wallet were found in a garbage can

in an alley a few blocks away. And what do you do again?”

“I’m a musician. My apartment and my band’s rehearsal loft are

on the top floor of the old Stranahan Shoe Factory building. I walk
past your gallery every day when I go out for coffee and the papers in
the morning.”

“That’s interesting. Would I know your band?” A musician? That

is different. Although, now that she looked at him closely, it seemed
to fit him.

Melodie's Song

“I don’t know. We play rock. Some hard, some not so much. The

band is called Dark Place.” He smiled. “We’re doing a six-city tour
after New Year’s. We’ve been fairly popular in a certain segment of
the community. We’ve opened for several of the big rock bands and
have a recording contract. The tour should tell the story.”

“What instrument do you play?”
“Just about all of them. Oh, you mean in the band. I’m lead guitar

and lead singer. There are four other guys. They drive me crazy, but I
guess I drive them crazy, too. They’re my best friends as well as band
mates. Actually, if they hadn’t been ragging on me today, I might not
be sitting here with you now. I have been hesitant to impose.”

“You’re not imposing. I’ve always wanted to be able to thank you,

and now I can.”

“Well, if you really want to thank me, you’ll agree to have dinner

with me tomorrow night.” She was about to refuse, as usual, when he
said, “Don’t turn me down out of hand. I think maybe you’ve made a
habit of that since the attack. I’m the one person who understands
what you’ve been through. I was attracted to you before, and I’m still
attracted to you now, two years later.”

“What do you mean you were attracted to me before?”
“I’d seen you on the street. But, hell, this is New York. You don’t

just go up to people on the street and ask for a date. I’d eventually
have found a way, though. You can bet on that.”

“And you’re not repulsed by the scar? I have to be honest here.

I’ve gotten good at not really looking in the mirror.”

“Well, then, you should. The scar is not that bad—not nearly as

bad as I expected it to be. You were a beautiful woman before, and
you’re a beautiful woman now. I’d like the opportunity to prove that
to you.”

“No, you’re right. It’s not as bad as it was. I’ve had a lot of

surgery, with more to come.” She thought for a moment. He was
right. If anyone could understand, it would be him. “Okay. Dinner
tomorrow night. I’ll look forward to it.”

Skye Michaels

He grinned, and as the smile spread over his face, he became

downright beautiful.  “Great.  Shall I pick you up at the gallery or at
your house?”  He  oozed confidence, sex appeal, and something else
she couldn’t identify.  She couldn’t remember being so attracted to a
man in a very long time.  She wanted to run her hands over that
amazing face—maybe sculpt him instead of paint.

“My brownstone is only a few blocks away. Give me your phone

and I’ll enter my contact information.”

* * * *

Logan loved it when a plan came together! Why the fuck had he

waited so long? Timing was everything, so there must be a reason for
the spirits to guide his endeavor, as his Apache grandfather would
say.

Melodie's Song

Chapter Four

At South Street Seaport, Pier 17, New York, New York, Thursday
evening, July 2, 2015

Dinner at Acqua at Peck Slip had been excellent. The weather was

beautiful and they had gotten a table outside.  Logan  always thought
that you couldn’t go wrong with Italian food and a good bottle of
wine.  At first,  Melodie had watched the people walking past from
behind her curtain of hair, but then she slowly seemed to relax in his
company.  She had even gotten so excited  when she was relating a
story about an artist who showed his work at her gallery that she had
casually brushed the hank of hair at her right temple back behind her
ear without even thinking about it.  He found himself opening up to
her as well.  Now they were walking around the Seaport.  He had his
arm around her shoulder to keep from being separated by the bustling
crowd of shoppers, diners and tourists.

“So tell me about yourself, Logan. You have such an interesting

face. I’d love to paint it some time.”

“Interesting or scary? As in, able to scare little children with a

single look?”

“Of course not. Your face has very strong lines, but when you

smile and the lines crinkle up around your eyes, you are actually very
handsome. And you have a killer smile.”

“Well, thanks. I’ll have to remember to smile more often.”
“Yes, you will. That was a genuine compliment, smarty.”
“Sorry. I’m often told that I’m intimidating.” And that was true.

He had a reputation in the dungeon at Le Club Eastside-Manhattan of

Skye Michaels

being harsher than he actually was, and he attributed some of that to
the Native American cast of his facial features. “Okay, then. I’m half
Black Irish and half Western Apache.  My last name was originally
Two Hawks. I grew up in Phoenix for the most part, although I spent
a lot of summers with my paternal grandfather at the Fort Apache
Indian Reservation in Peridot, Arizona.  It’s the home of the White
Mountain Apache Tribe. That was the best of times and the worst of
times, as they saying goes.  I loved spending time with my
grandfather, but a lot of the other boys resented that I lived in the city
and not on the Rez. I got called ‘half breed’ a lot.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that you were half Irish. Kids can be

cruel—especially about things they don’t understand. I’ve seen a lot
of little fingers pointing at my face while they yelled, ‘Look at that
lady, mommy. She has a red thing on her face.’ It’s gotten better, but I
still try to shield my face in public.”

“I can see that it’s gotten a lot better, Melodie. I don’t think you

really need to do that anymore.” He directed her toward a bench
overlooking the East River, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the collection of
historic tall ships. They sat down, but he continued to keep his arm
around her shoulders. For some reason, he didn’t want to give up that
connection. He pulled her in and nestled her under his arm.

He saw the pain flit briefly through her eyes before she said, “So

tell me more about the Reservation.” It was obvious that she wanted
to get the spotlight off herself.

“It’s located northeast of Phoenix. The land is high desert and

mostly covered by pine forests. It’s really very beautiful country. The
highest point is Mount Baldy Peak at over eleven thousand feet in
elevation. The tribe operates a ski resort and a casino. There is also a
museum and the Kinishba ruins, an ancestral pueblo Mogollon and
Anasazi archaeological site. My grandfather is a tribal elder and has a
small house in the foothills. I spent summers riding my pinto pony
bareback, fishing, hunting and learning the Apache language and
customs. All in all, it was pretty terrific.”

Melodie's Song

“Did your parents spend summer vacation there as well?”
“No. My father was killed in a bar fight when I was three, and I

have no memory of him—which is probably just as well. I really can’t
imagine what they ever had in common.  My mother is a concert
pianist.  She studied here in New York at Juilliard.  My maternal
grandparents still live in the city—up on Fifth Avenue overlooking
the park. Mom also plays with the Phoenix Symphony. That’s why I
am able to play most instruments.  Between my mother and her
Symphony friends, I was tutored to within an inch of my life as a kid.
Summers with my grandfather allowed her to tour  and me some
respite from music lessons.  Eventually I’d like to take the band in a
slightly different direction.  I’m slowly incorporating some softer
rock—sort of a rock-jazz emulsion. If I do it gradually, those bozos in
the band  won’t even notice—as long as they like the sound.  Right
now,  we are working on building brand and name identification.  I’d
also like to pursue a career as a jazz pianist.”  He laughed at her
expression.  “I know—rock band to jazz man.  It’s a long distance
between diametrically opposed opposites.  We’ll see what happens.
What about you? How did you end up in a gallery in Tribeca?”

“My maternal grandmother was a character. Her name was Mary

Elizabeth. She and my mom were nothing alike. She was a model in
her younger days, and later became quite well known as an
impressionist artist. She started the gallery in the 1980s and left it to
me, together with my brownstone, when she passed away. I changed
the name and modernized it. I guess my painting talent comes from
her.”

“Do you look like her?”
“My mom says I do.” She laughed. “Except for the flaming red

hair. I don’t remember her when she was younger, and photos are
deceiving.” She smiled. “Apparently she was a hippie and the toast of
Greenwich Village at one time. Do you have an Indian name?” She
blushed. “Is it politically incorrect to ask that?”

Skye Michaels

He laughed. “No problem. Of course I have an Indian name. It’s

Eknath, which means ‘poet’ in Apache—although my grandfather
usually called me Eskaminzim, which means ‘big mouth.’”

“No. It can’t be true. You seem like the tall, silent type.”
“Stereotyped again.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“Relax, Melodie. I’m just kidding. I’ve had this face for a long

time.”  He really couldn’t wait any longer to taste her.  He squeezed
her hand.  Then he turned her toward him.  “May I?”  When she
nodded, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soft, pink lips.  It
started out sweet and easy, but as the seconds passed, the kiss became
hot and urgent. Finally, he took it back down again. “I wanted to do
that two years ago.”

“I wish you had.”
“Really?”
“Really. You’re an interesting man, Logan Eknath Hawk. Very

interesting.”

“Do you think you might like to explore this attraction? I know I

would.” He held his breath for her answer. Suddenly, it meant a lot to
him. She meant a lot to him. She had since he’d felt her lifeblood
flowing between his fingers, and he’d wanted to do anything he could
to stop her from slipping away.

“Yes, I think I would.”
“Good. Before we get too deeply involved, there are some things

you’ll need to know about me. I’m what is known as a Dom, or
Dominant. I participate in the BDSM lifestyle. Do you know what
that is?”

“I think nowadays most people do.”
“Yeah, that Fifty Shades thing. I have to tell you that from what I

understand, that is not a particularly accurate depiction of the
lifestyle, although each couple defines their own limits. If you want to
explore it with me, I’d be pleased and honored to initiate you. I am
not a Dom who wants a twenty-four-seven D/s or

Melodie's Song

Dominant/submissive relationship. I don’t have the time or inclination
to completely control another person’s life. I have enough to do with
my own and the band. I won’t pressure you to participate if you don’t
want to. We can try it on for size and see what you think. It’s
completely up to you.”

“So, would I be a sub, or submissive?” She looked apprehensive.
“Yes, you would be my sub.”

* * * *

Melodie was not really surprised to learn that Logan was a Dom.

He had a certain edge to his mannerisms and personality.  She could
see that he was an alpha male just by the way he held her and
protected her from the crowd. She and Pansy had talked about BDSM
after they had both read the E.L. James books. They had wondered if
they could do it or would enjoy it.  Both had said they might like to
experiment, but weren’t sure they could live that way full-time or
permanently.  Now, it looked like she might get to take a taste.  She
shivered as a tremor of excitement zipped up her spine. Yikes! Logan
Hawk is a Dom?

This seemed to be happening a little too quickly. Although she

had only known Logan for two days, she had actually known him for
two years. She had dreamed about the dark presence that had put his
strong hands on her wound. He had held her and whispered for her to
hold on, not to die. And she had tried to reach out to him through the
mist of her unconscious.

“Could we start slowly? I’m not sure how I’ll feel about that

whole thing, especially the spanking stuff.”

He laughed. “Of course we would start slowly. I’ll explain

everything, and we will discuss the BDSM thing and what’s going to
happen,  and  what your  hard and soft limits are,  before we do
anything.  That’s the ‘safe, sane and consensual’ part of the
proceedings.  Of course, you’ll have your safe word.”  He kissed her

Skye Michaels

hard and deep again. When they came up for air, he said, “How would
you feel about going back to my place to fool around? Just plain old
vanilla, to start. I don’t think you’re ready for chocolate raspberry or
pistachio mint yet, but I’ve been dying to get you to myself since
yesterday.” She could see the hopeful expression on his face.

She thought for a moment. She knew Logan was watching her

carefully. It had been almost two years since she had been intimate
with a man. It was time she got back to living, and she had a soul-
deep feeling that this was the right man to help her and the right time
to dip her toes back into life.

Pansy was going to have a fit. She couldn’t wait to talk to her

about this new development. When they spoke on the phone the night
before, Pansy had been surprised and delighted that Melodie had an
actual date. Lately she had been gently, and then not so gently,
pushing Melodie to break out of her self-imposed exile. This might be
a little more of a breakout than either of them had anticipated, but she
thought she was ready to go for it. A glance down at the front of
Logan’s jeans said he was more than ready to go for it.

When she nodded, he said, “Let’s go. We’ll just grab a cab back

over to my loft on the west side. We should have both digested our
dinners by then and be ready for some dessert. Maybe vanilla with a
little chocolate syrup?” His wicked grin made her laugh. While he had
an imposing look, she could see the fun underneath his austere
appearance. She would like to be the one to make him break out that
killer smile more often. It really lit up his face.

* * * *

As they grabbed a cab for the trip across the tip of lower

Manhattan, Logan was a little nervous.  That wasn’t like him.  If
anything,  he was overconfident where women were concerned, but
that was just part of the Dom thing.  He couldn’t get her back to his
loft fast enough, but Melodie was so very important to him.  He had

Melodie's Song

known it for two years. Maybe that was why he had hesitated to make
contact with her. He’d known this woman was going to be vital to
him.

When they reached the shoe factory building, he took her hand

and led her inside the first-floor foyer. It wasn’t much to look at—just
a wooden bench and four large mailboxes, one for each floor. He held
her arm as she stepped into the freight elevator.  It never stopped
exactly level with the floor.  The ascent was a little scary as the bare
light bulb in the open elevator cage cast flickering shadows against
the walls of the elevator shaft.  Although it had never bothered him
and the guys, he was seeing it through her eyes.  Maybe he and the
other floor owners in the building should do something about this
elevator.

“I know it’s a little wobbly and dark, but really, it is safe.” He

pulled her into his arms and kissed her until the car settled on the top
floor. They stepped out of the elevator into another small foyer and he
unlocked the double steel doors.

When he swung them open and ushered her inside he saw her eyes

go wide. The huge space was a bit overwhelming. There were
spotlights in the ceiling to light the various areas, and he pointed them
out as they crossed the rough floor to the entrance to his apartment at
the back.

“That’s our rehearsal and recording area, and on the right is my

office. At the back is my music room, where I compose or just play.
We have a dormitory-type space over there for when the guys need to
stay over, a gym area, and that area over there behind the dark doors
is the dungeon. Did I mention that the other guys are Doms as well?”

“Uh, no. You didn’t mention that. I’d really like to meet them and

hear some of your music.”

“Maybe this weekend. We’re playing a Fourth of July concert in

Central Park with Coldplay, which is a huge honor and should be
some excellent exposure for us. Would you like to come?”

Skye Michaels

“I’d love to come. Show me your apartment.” They were standing

in front of a set of double doors.

He unlocked the paneled mahogany double doors, which had been

salvaged from an old house in Brooklyn that was being torn down.
The last of the evening light was spilling through the high windows.
The apartment space was large and open, with the kitchen and living
area on one side and his bedroom on a raised platform on the other.
There was an enclosed bathroom with his enormous multi-jet steam
shower. He had gotten the majority of his fixtures, flooring and other
building materials from the house in Brooklyn and other nearby
demolition sites. He’d had the floors and bathroom fixtures refinished
and had installed the steam shower and a state-of-the-art stainless
steel kitchen. Basically, the decor was industrial modern with no
frills, and suited him just perfectly. But now he was seeing it through
Melodie’s eyes, and it might seem a little cold. After seeing the warm
brownstone where she lived, the art on the walls, and the general
ambiance, he was a little concerned about bringing her here.

“It suits you. Very masculine.”
“But I can see that it wouldn’t suit you.”
She grinned. “It could definitely use a woman’s touch.”
“I guess it could. Very few women have actually made it through

those doors into my private space. Any subs I’ve brought here have
made it as far as the dungeon, and no further.”

She turned a full circle and looked around. “Well, I’m honored

then.”

“How about a glass of wine up on my rooftop patio? The sun is

going down so there should be a good sunset.”

He grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack in the kitchen area and

picked up two glasses. He took her hand and guided her toward a door
that opened onto a narrow stairway leading to the rooftop. When they
had climbed the stairs and he’d unlocked the door to the roof, she
stepped through.

Melodie's Song

“Oh, Logan, I had no idea you had a Hudson River view. You can

see the wharves. That’s the West Side Highway down there, right?
People pay millions of dollars for this view.” She raised her arms and
spun around. She spotted the sitting area, surrounded by small trees
and plantings in big casks and various large industrial type containers.
There was a profusion of flowers blooming in the slanted late-evening
sun. “This is terrific.”

“I didn’t pay millions, but it wasn’t cheap, nonetheless. But it

provides everything the band and I need. I had a little help from the
trust established by my grandparents. That also paid my living
expenses and tuition to Juilliard as well. Having a mother who was a
graduate and in the music biz didn’t hurt my chances for acceptance,
either. Have a seat, and I’ll pour the wine.”

When she was settled on a teak bench covered with an all-weather

cushion, he handed her a glass of wine. She looked up at him, and
they clinked glasses. “Here’s to us, and a fresh start.”

“Here’s to us, beautiful lady. I see good things coming.”
They chatted and he watched her continue to relax. The two

glasses of wine on top of those they’d consumed at dinner certainly
helped.  As the sun slipped behind the buildings on the other side of
the river, he pulled her into his arms again.  She came willingly and,
he thought, eagerly. He glided his lips down her neck and into the vee
of her shirt collar.  They coasted over the tops of her breasts.  He
unfastened the top two buttons of her shirt, reached in, and flipped the
front catch of her bra.  Her ample breasts spilled into his hands.  She
was glorious.  She moaned as he reached down and took one of her
pebbled nipples into his mouth.  “I’m going to love putting a set of
nipple clamps on your breasts.”  At her startled look,  he said, “Don’t
worry. It will be a while before I do that. You have lots to experience
before then.”

“Right now I want to experience you, Logan. Just you.”
“Then we’d better go inside. Some of those tall buildings have an

excellent view of this rooftop.” He stood and pulled her to her feet.

Skye Michaels

“Let’s go to bed.”  She followed him back down the stairs into the
apartment. In the kitchen, he leaned up against the black granite island
and  kissed her again.  He  ran his hands down her back and over her
butt. He brushed the hair that was hanging in her face back behind her
ears.  “Don’t hide your beautiful face from me, Melodie.  There is
nothing you can show me that will horrify me. Everybody has scars,
baby. Some are just on the inside where they can’t be seen, but they
are just as painful. I’ve seen the worst of your wounds, and your scars
are so much better than I thought they would be.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to kill the mood. We’re so close.”
“Believe me, there is nothing that could kill this mood. I’m taking

you to bed and having my wicked way with you.” He gave her a
comical leer that had her laughing.

“Oh, goody. I can’t wait.”
“Then this way.” He took her hand and led her to the steps going

up to the raised sleeping area. When they had ascended to the
platform he finished unbuttoning her shirt. She reached out and undid
the buttons of his black denim shirt. And then they were all rushing
fingers and panting breath.

“I can’t wait to feel you inside me, Logan. Hurry.”
He made quick work of the rest of her clothes and then his.

Finally, they were naked. They just looked at each other. When he
continued to stare and said nothing, she said hesitantly, “Are you
disappointed?”

“Are you crazy? There is nothing to be disappointed about. If you

keep that up,  you might be getting a taste of that spanking you’ve
been worrying about.”  He grinned and shook his head.  “You think I
didn’t know that you were worrying?  Your future Dom knows all.”
He backed up to the edge of the bed and fell back,  taking her with
him. She landed solidly on his chest, and he put his arms around her.

He moved fast. Before she could protest, Logan had rolled her

under him and had his muscled thigh firmly planted between her now-
open ones. She looked up at him in surprise.

Melodie's Song

“Relax, baby. We have all night. I’m going to play with you for

hours. By the time I let you come, you’ll be begging.” He proceeded
to explore every inch of her sensitized skin with his lips. He was
going to try to take his time. He flicked his tongue over her raspberry
nipples. He knew it was his imagination, but he could swear they
tasted sweet. And then he got serious.

He felt the wetness of her pussy and slid his body down until he

was between her soft, spread thighs.  He had dreamt of this many
times.  Over the last two  years,  she had never been far from his
thoughts.  He took her little pleasure button between his lips and
started to suck and nip.  Melodie began to toss and turn, but his
shoulders kept her spread wide for him, and his arms controlled her
thrashing legs. “Easy, honey. Just lay back and enjoy. You can’t come
until I give you permission.”

She raised her head and looked down her body into his eyes. He

could see the surprise in hers. “Really? How can I control that?”

“Try. I’m just giving you a little preview of the D/s dynamic.

Don’t worry about it.  We’re just playing.”  He went back to work
between her legs. He felt the quickening of her pulse as he continued
to circle her clit with his tongue. He ran his tongue through the ruffled
pussy lips that were slick with her juices. They tasted sweet to him as
well.  She tasted like heaven.  He knew she would be begging soon.
Now that would be music to his ears. She continued to thrash as she
tried to gain closer contact with his mouth.  “When I take you under
sub training, you’ll learn that that is topping from the bottom and is
not allowed.”

“Please, Logan. I need you inside me. I’m burning up.”
“Soon, baby. Soon. You are going to have to learn patience. You

have to wait until I decide the time is right. I’m the one in control
here.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Logan. Please fuck me.”
That was it. He couldn’t hold back any longer himself. He was

dying to sink into her sweet, wet heat. He moved back up her body,

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took her wrists in one hand, and held them over her head while he
braced on his forearm. His rampant cock was primed and ready and
homed in on the destination. He nudged her slick opening. He took
his shaft in his hand and guided it home. Soon he was seated up to his
balls. Her hot, wet pussy grasped his hard cock, and he could feel her
interior muscles gripping him.

Oh, God. It was amazing. He knew he would never have enough.

He had fantasized about taking her hard and fast many times, but now
he found he wanted to make this last to the absolute last possible
second. He felt his balls tighten as he began to stroke long and slow.
He had to concentrate. Melodie met every stroke. Their bodies
instinctively knew each other’s rhythms, and they were in perfect
sync.

“Harder, Logan. Faster.”
He knew he should keep her wanting just on general principles,

but she wasn’t a trained sub and couldn’t know she was breaking the
rules. He began to speed up his strokes. Her legs were wrapped
around his back, and she struggled to take him even deeper, if that
was possible.

* * * *

Melodie was coming apart. She had never experienced anything

like this before.  She was desperate to run her hands down his back
and grab his ass, but he still had them clasped above her head.  For
some reason,  she found that incredibly erotic and exciting.  She
wanted to take him as deep and hard as possible. He was big and her
pussy was stretched to the maximum, but she loved the fullness, the
friction. She just wanted more. She wanted it all.

Logan was all hard, demanding man, and he played her body like

one of his instruments. Even as a girl, she had never been one to have
crushes on musicians. She had enjoyed the music, but that was all.
She could see that was about to change. Was she going to be a thirty-

Melodie's Song

five year old groupie? She started to giggle. When that got a lowered-
brow look from Logan, she burst out in a delighted laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he gasped as he intensified his strokes.
“Nothing is funny. I’m just so happy. I think I’m going to be a

groupie.”

“God forbid.”
She felt her pulse quicken and the ripple of her inner walls around

his cock. And then he started to laugh as well. They both blasted over
the edge into spine-tingling orgasms that left them breathless to the
lingering sound of their laughter. When the storm had subsided, he
said, “I feel like a beached whale, Melodie. Am I too heavy on you?”

“No. You feel just right.” She felt her muscles unclench and her

breathing begin to return to normal.

Melodie relaxed in Logan’s arms. The aftermath of sex had never

felt so right, so warm, so safe. Instinctively, she knew this was where
she was meant to be. She also knew she had better get some rest
because Logan was not a one-shot guy, and the night was just
beginning.

* * * *

Logan said, “That was extraordinary.”
He rolled off her and pulled her up tight against his chest. This

was where she belonged, and he was going to do his damned best to
make sure she stayed there. He didn’t want to examine his feelings
too closely right now. It was enough to know they were there, lodged
around his heart.

Skye Michaels

Chapter Five

Backstage at Rumsey Playfield, SummerStage Concert Series, in
Central Park, New York City, New York, Saturday late afternoon, July
4, 2015

Melodie was backstage at the Rumsey Playfield band shell with

Logan and the other members of Dark  Place.  She was trying to stay
out of the way as they checked equipment and lighting and did sound
checks in preparation for the evening’s concert. She enjoyed watching
Logan do his thing. He wasn’t obnoxious, but it was clear he was in
charge, although the band members were not shy about giving him a
hard time.  They were particularly ruthless in their teasing about her.
Apparently,  it was true that they had prodded him into finally
contacting her.  They were quite a sight—five gorgeous, hot, alpha
males in tight T-shirts, butt-hugging jeans and scuffed motorcycle
boots.  There was just something about musicians that she had never
quite appreciated before, and these particular musicians were Doms,
as well.

“Let me introduce the guys. These are the other members of Dark

Place—Billie Crockett, Keith Ransom, Guy Penrod, and Tyler
Easton. I’m the lead guitar and lead singer. Billie plays keyboard and
is the backup vocalist. Keith plays second guitar. Guy is bass guitar
and sax or trumpet, and Tyler is our drummer and multi-
instrumentalist, including xylophone, cymbals, and tambourine.”

Melodie was greeted with playful hugs and smacking kisses by all

of them. She could see that Logan wasn’t too happy about her being
manhandled by the guys, but he just shook his head. She now knew

Melodie's Song

that they had been there to help him clean her blood off his hands and
get him into the shower after the attack when he had stumbled back to
the loft and could barely stand himself. That certainly lent an added
air of intimacy to her association with them.

She observed the joking, backslapping, and male group dynamics

with a smile. Billie Crockett was tall and thin with a mop of shaggy,
curly  brown hair and brown eyes.  Keith Ransom was of medium
height with a muscular build and short, spiked blond hair and hazel
eyes. Guy Penrod was tall, with a cut physique, classically handsome
features and blue eyes that she bet drove the girls crazy, and Tyler
Easton was shorter than the others,  but  well built,  with red hair and
green eyes.  There was always  something extra sexy about the
drummer in the band.

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity around the stage as the

Coldplay roadies arrived to set up as well. She peeked out through the
proscenium and saw that some intrepid concertgoers were already
staking out the choice seats. Melodie had attended numerous events at
Rumsey before the attack, but she had not been back since. The
Summer Concert Series, sponsored by ABC’s Good Morning America
on Friday nights, was located there and was very popular. She had
also enjoyed attending The Public Theater’s free “Shakespeare in the
Park” performances at the Delacorte Theater just off 80

Street on the

southwest corner of the Great Lawn. Since the attack, she had been
reluctant to mingle in large crowds. Logan had seemed to know that
and understand without her having to say a word. He’d set her up in
an out-of-the-way corner and given her a walkie-talkie so that she
could contact him, should she need to.

Melodie and Logan had spent Thursday night at his apartment,

and her body was still humming. She had never enjoyed sex that was
as intense as that she had shared with Logan.  He was amazing and
totally tuned in  to her reactions and her body.  She wondered if that
intuitive skill had anything to do with being a Dom,  or if it was just
Logan. She had slept securely tucked in his arms. The next morning,

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he had awoken her with kisses on the back of her neck before daylight
and had taken her over the moon again.  He had refused to let her
leave until dawn, when he’d gotten up to walk her home so she could
change for work.  He had picked up his copies of Rolling Stone,
Variety and The New York Times, and they had stopped for breakfast
at a little café along the way.  She had been thrilled to see that Dark
Place’s participation in  the Saturday night concert had been
mentioned favorably in Rolling Stone, and they had gotten a big
mention in Variety as well. They had had their first release on a major
label, and they appeared to be on their way. Of course, the big news
was the appearance of Coldplay.  Just being invited to appear on the
same stage was a huge boost to the band’s name recognition.

Melodie became more and more unsettled as the time for their

opening number drew near. Logan and the guys were calm and ready,
but she was a nervous wreck. She knew that, as in any business,
marketing was uppermost. They had to get their name out there, and
this appearance with Coldplay was a big break. Although the band
was extremely popular within the BDSM and alternative-lifestyle
communities, they wanted to cross over into the general music
market.

Finally, it was time. When they went out on stage and picked up

their instruments the applause was deafening. She peered out over the
crowd and was amazed. She had been in the audience herself, but she
had never seen the action from this perspective. The screaming throng
was a writhing mass of humanity, and she was a little afraid. Would
the guys be safe out there?

They struck a jarring chord and suddenly, the crowd seemed to

quiet. Another chord sounded and they broke into their first number,
Dark Places in My Soul, the single from their first album.  The mob
went wild again. Logan was the front man, and she was amazed by his
presence and vitality on stage.  She really hadn’t expected that.  Most
of the time, except in bed,  of course, he seemed sort of stoic and
reserved.  But on stage,  he was a force to be reckoned with.  He had

Melodie's Song

gone from quiet and in-control backstage to a whirling, jumping
bundle of energy and sound—muscles gleaming and hair flying.

His voice was deep and complemented the pounding rhythm of

the drums.  This was her first opportunity to actually hear the music.
While the throbbing rock wasn’t really her  musical  style, she could
appreciate the artistry and craftsmanship of the pieces.  She  thought
the group had a very good chance of making it really big. It was more
presence and perception than anything else—and they definitely had
presence on stage.

When they had played three songs and an encore, they retired

from the stage and were replaced by the main act. She was jumping
up and down and applauding with the rest of the crowd. Logan picked
her up and whirled her around, and then the guys surrounded her for
their chances to give her exuberant hugs and cheek kisses.

Logan had told her that two of them had collared subs and two

were still trolling in the uncollared sub corner at the club. None of the
subs had been allowed to come backstage, and Melody realized she
had been granted a special treat. They were usually too busy getting
ready for a performance and then breaking down and packing up to
have women underfoot.

Logan was standing with her securely held up against his chest

when there was a scuffle, and security removed a dark-haired woman
wearing all black who had been trying to get backstage. “Shit. It’s
Karin Sanders again. When is she going to get it? The restraining
order I got last month hasn’t seemed to penetrate.”

“I wouldn’t count on it penetrating any time soon. That woman is

crazy. She’s not a fan, she’s a stalker.” Guy looked concerned.

“Yeah. Those letters she sent you are just bizarre,” Keith said.

“The woman is dangerous.”

Melodie could feel her eyes going wide. Was this the other side of

being a celebrity—even a minor one?

Logan turned to her. “Melodie, this woman, Karin Sanders, has

tried to get into the loft, and she follows me on the street. She has

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become a major nuisance, but I really don’t think there is actually
anything to worry about. I met her when I participated in a bachelor
auction last year at Le Club Eastside-Manhattan.  We’re all members
of the club.  One of the Dommes, Barbara Brown, organized the
auction for charity and strong-armed me into participating. Karin bid
on me, and we had one scene and one dinner out. She built it up into a
major romance in her head.  It never was that for me.  When she
continued to be a pest, I got a restraining order. That’s the story.”

“Yeah,” piped up Billie, “and he’s stickin’ to it.”
“Oh, be quiet, Billie. You are not helping.” Logan gave him an

annoyed look.

“Never meant to.” Now he was slapping his thighs and bending

over in laughter, which served to break the tension.

Guy said, “We’re going to Le Club later. Do you two want to

come?”

“No, thanks. I think we’ll go back to the loft and play in the

dungeon there for this first time. What do you say, Melodie?”

She knew her eyes were still wide from the stalker incident, and

now they got wider. The dungeon? Yikes. Am I ready for that?

“It’s okay if you want to wait for our first scene. Really, I don’t

want you stressing out over it.”

She took a deep breath. “No. I think I’d like to try it. Really.”

Who was she trying to convince? Him or herself?

Melodie's Song

Chapter Six

The Loft, Stranahan Shoe Factory Building, Tribeca Section of New
York, New York, Saturday night, July 4, 2015

They were in the elevator on the way up to the loft. Logan could

see the nerves jumping in Melodie’s throat. She said she wanted a
scene in the dungeon, but did she just want to please him? Well, they
could give it a try. If she was too freaked, they could just go back into
the apartment.

“Melodie? If you’re not ready to try this, I’ll understand. This

wasn’t even on your radar a few days ago.”

She looked up at him. “I want to try it. We just need to go slow,

and you’ll have to tell me what to do. I know this is important to you,
and frankly, I’ve been curious about what it would be like, ever since
those crazy books.”

“Okay. We’ll sit down in the apartment and talk about hard limits

first. You’ll choose your safe word, and I’ll tell you what to expect.
Then, if you still want to, we’ll go out to the dungeon. How’s that? I
don’t want you to be scared, baby, after all you’ve been through.”

“That’s good.” She was looking calmer now. “Logan, I don’t want

you to treat me like I’m damaged. I don’t want to be damaged. I can
handle this. Whether I like it or not is something we have to discover,
but I can handle it. I don’t want the knife attack to be the defining
moment in my life and to influence everything else.”

“That doesn’t define you for me, Melodie. For me, you are a

beautiful woman who is going to trust me with her pleasure in a new
and interesting way.”

Skye Michaels

“Just so we’re clear on that point.” She smiled at him, and he got a

warm feeling around his heart. Logan took her hand and they walked
through the dark loft back toward the dungeon.

“I want you to see the dungeon and the equipment so you’ll know

what I’m talking about, and then we’ll go back to the apartment and
talk.”  He wanted to allay her fear of the unknown without lessening
her excitement and anticipation.  They had to discuss the premise of
Dominance and submission in order to begin her sub training. Starting
her training in the loft dungeon might be a bit overwhelming at this
point, but he would see how she felt after they had talked. He wanted
her to have a realistic sense of what was in store for her before they
started.  He didn’t want to downplay the dominance aspects of the
relationship. That wouldn’t be fair.

He unlocked the door, flipped on the lights, and ushered her into

the dungeon with his calming hand in the small of her back.  She
looked around in amazement at the BDSM equipment.  The St.
Andrew’s Cross was particularly intimidating. Maybe he should have
just taken her into the apartment for the first time.  Well, it was too
late for that now. He thought he might as well initiate her as he would
any other new sub.

“Logan, I had no idea.” She looked stunned.
“Okay. That big x-shaped wooden piece of equipment is called a

St. Andrew’s  Cross, and it is used to restrain a sub.  That piece that
looks like a sawhorse is a spanking bench.  The use of that is self-
explanatory.  Those chains secured to the ceiling are called hanging
chains, and that pulley and rope system is used for suspension
bondage.  There are lots of other pieces of equipment,  from cuffs to
spreader bars, that you will become acquainted with as we go along.
Look around and ask me any questions that might occur to you now,
and then we’ll go into the apartment and talk.”  He wasn’t sure she
would be able to form any questions.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Melodie's Song

“Melodie, do you just want to forget this? I don’t want to pressure

you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“No. Let’s talk. I can’t promise I’ll be able to do this, but I don’t

want to chicken out at the first obstacle.”

He took her hand and led her out of the dungeon, turning the light

out and locking the doors after them. Once they were in the apartment
he sat he down on the huge leather sectional sofa in the living area.
“Do you want something to drink? Soda? Water? No alcohol. I don’t
drink and scene, and neither should you. Perceptions can be
dangerously altered on both sides.”

“Cold water would be good.”
He brought two glasses full of water and ice and sat down next to

her. He squeezed her fingers and then took her hand and placed it on
his thigh. He kissed her cheek and then briefly her mouth. This was
time for talking, and he didn’t want it to escalate into sex at the
moment.

“Okay, Melodie, I guess I’ll just jump right on in here.” He took a

sip of his water to give himself a moment to put his thoughts in order.
He wasn’t used to having to explain.  All of his partners had been
experienced subs.  “D/s,  or Dominance and submission,  is  really just
an exchange of power.  The sub gives over his or her power to the
Dominant in exchange for the pleasure and safety that the Dominant
provides.  It is not only about sex.  It’s also about  trust and  the
emotional connection.”

“What does the acronym stand for?”
“BDSM stands for Bondage & Discipline, Dominance &

Submission and Sadomasochism. Some people call it the ‘lifestyle.’”
He paused to give her an opportunity to digest that information and
ask a question if she was able to formulate one. “It is often depicted in
internet porn, but that really is not accurate information.”

“I sort of knew that already.” She looked interested but not

absolutely shocked, although her face was bright pink.

Skye Michaels

“I’m a Dominant, or Dom. As my partner, you would be a

submissive or sub.  Those terms are not gender-specific.  There are
female Doms, or Dommes, and male subs.”  He waited for her to
protest, but she just sat there with a stunned look on her face.  He
continued.  “It sometimes involves spanking and whipping, rope
bondage, sensory deprivation, or orgasm denial. Most people don’t do
all of those things all the time but pick and choose the things that
bring themselves and their partners pleasure.  It’s a consensual
relationship, not abuse, whose purpose is to increase sexual tension
and pleasure.

“Both partners have to agree on what activities are okay. You

would always have your safe word to stop the proceedings if you felt
overwhelmed. Doms don’t just arbitrarily do things to subs, at least
not the good ones. The by-words of the lifestyle are ‘safe, sane and
consensual.’

When she still said nothing, he continued. “We will carefully

negotiate what the scene will entail and how far you are willing to go.
That is what is called your ‘soft limits.’ We will also discuss what you
absolutely don’t want to do, and those would be your ‘hard limits.’
Once we have established a D/s relationship, I would know your hard
limits, and we probably wouldn’t discuss them all the time, but you
can change them as you get more comfortable and your perceptions
change. I would want you to confirm your agreement to submission
before each scene. Do you have a word you want to use as your safe
word?”

She looked confused. “Ah, I don’t know. I can’t think of one right

now.” She was beginning to look a little overwhelmed.

“Okay. For now, let’s use ‘red’ as your safe word. We can change

it later if you want to. You will use the safe word in the event you
need me to stop what I am doing. Do not use it indiscriminately, since
I will stop all activity as soon as you say it, and we will be done for
that day. If you need a moment to process or a short reprieve, say

Melodie's Song

‘yellow.’ ‘Green’ means you are good to go. Are you okay,
Melodie?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Just trying to process. Can we go back to the

dungeon and just start? I don’t want to overthink.”

“Sure. We can do that. Don’t forget to use your safe words if you

need to. About hard limits?”

“I have no idea what to say, Logan. Can’t you just tell me?”
“We’ll have this discussion again when you know more about

what’s going on. For now, let’s just say no extreme whipping,
extreme bondage, breath, knife or blood play. That covers the major
areas.”

Now she really looked stunned. “Ah. Okay. That sounds good.”
Logan took her hand and they returned to the dungeon. He opened

the door and flipped the lights back on. The different pieces of
equipment were bathed in spotlights shining down from the industrial
ceiling. He felt her muscles tense as she looked around again, and
then she took several deep breaths and forced herself to relax. “Okay,
Logan, let’s do this.”

“Okay, sub, then we are in the scene. ‘In the scene’ just means

when we are in a Dominant/submissive or D/s sexual situation here,
in my apartment, at the club, at a private play party, or at any other
location.  You will address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master.’  My attitude will
tell you when we are in a scene.  You will not speak unless asked a
direct question, and you will be respectful and obedient at all times.
You will follow orders immediately,  without questioning them.  Do
you understand?  Your correct response would be ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no,
Sir.’”

She looked stunned. “Answer the question sub. I need to know

that you’re with me and understand my orders.”

“Uh, yes Sir,” she stammered. He was sure this was more than she

had expected.

“Okay. Take off your clothes, fold them neatly and put them on

the shelf by the door. I’ll allow you to wear your underwear for now.”

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Her eyes were wide and she looked shocked. “Now, sub. Do not
hesitate to obey my orders. Dragging your feet will earn you a
spanking.”

Melodie pulled her shirt over her head and pushed her jeans down

and stepped out of them. She was left standing in a lacy bra, matching
bikini panties and sandals.

“Shoes off as well, sub.” Logan could see the goose bumps on her

arms and the bewildered expression on her face. He immediately
walked to the thermostat on the wall and bumped the temperature up a
few degrees. She would have enough to contend with, without being
cold. Part of his duty as a Dom was to see to her needs, not
necessarily her wants.

“Repeat the safe words.”
“Yes, Master. Red means stop, yellow means take a break, and

green means okay to continue.”

“Good. First, I’ll teach you the slave position, which is just a

position that you will be told to assume when waiting for your Master.
Sit on your heels on the floor, knees spread, hands relaxed, palms up
on your thighs. Keep your eyes down unless told otherwise.
Sometimes I may order you to kneel and clasp your hands behind
your back, or to stand with your hands clasped behind your back, with
your legs spread shoulder-width apart. The idea is that your pussy is
always open and available to your Master for his pleasure.”

Melodie narrowed her eyes. She was starting to look stubborn.

“I’m not sure I like this.”

Logan did not want to let the situation get out of his control. “Sub,

don’t try my patience.  You won’t like the results.  Now, assume the
position.” Logan lowered his voice into the Dom range and stared her
down. He could see that it was going to take a little effort to subdue
her naturally strong personality. She had to be strong to have survived
what had happened to her.  She was accustomed to  being the one in
control of most situations.

“Oh, all right, but I don’t think I am going to like this part.”

Melodie's Song

He gave her the “add a Sir” look.
“Sir.”
He sighed. “I know I promised to be patient and go slow, but if

you continue in this manner, I’m not going to be able to do that. Now,
Melodie…do as you are told and don’t question every order.”

Logan sat down in a large, comfortable upholstered chair in the

corner and made a hand gesture for Melodie to assume the position on
the floor next to him. She slowly lowered herself to the floor and sat
on her heels as directed.  “Good.  Spread your legs a little more and
look down.”  When she had spread her legs open only an inch or so
more, he just looked at her until she spread them further.  “That’s
better. Obedience will come more naturally, the more you do it.”

He reached forward and ran his hand down over her back and

down to her butt. He patted her gently to indicate his approval. “Good
girl.” Most subs loved that phrase of approval and appreciation from
their Doms.

Her head sprang up, and she looked at him through squinted eyes

and said, “That was a bit patronizing don’t you think?” Her
expression was disbelieving.

“You are to address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’ and speak only when

you are asked a direct question or when you ask to speak and are told
you may communicate. Do you want me to swat your butt for your
disrespectful attitude right now? I am giving you a little leeway here,
since this is all new to you, but as Master, I will not tolerate that tone
of voice in the future.” He turned up his stern expression to make his
point. He knew his facial features were intimidating even without the
Dom overtone.

Melodie gulped and looked down. He could see she was

considering getting her butt swatted and wasn’t sure she would enjoy
the experience. He grinned to himself. This was definitely going to be
a challenge. He had always liked his subs to have spirit, although too
much spirit could sometimes be exhausting. “Now sit there for a few

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minutes and think about how you are going to improve your
behavior.”

Her smoldering gaze told him that he would probably have

occasion to be sorry later. “Eyes down, respectful attitude.” He could
almost hear her grinding her teeth. He had to make an effort not to
smile.

After a few minutes of seething silence, he gestured for her to rise.

“Come and sit in my lap, little sub. You are actually doing very well
for your first time and not having had any experience or time to
consider the situation. I think we’ll saving binding you to the cross or
spanking bench for another time. You have a lot to absorb, to start.
There are some benefits for the sub in exchange for unconditional
obedience.”

When she was sitting in his lap, he cuddled her up against his

chest and said, “Relax. This is supposed to be fun and sexy. I want to
show you the benefits in a D/s relationship.”

He began massaging the stiffness from her shoulders and running

his hands up and down her arms. When he felt her begin to relax
under his hands, he brought them down and cupped her breasts. He
thumbed her pebbled nipples through the lacy bra and felt her shiver
with reaction. He flipped the front clasp of her bra open and slipped it
off her shoulders. He ran his tongue down the center of her chest and
continued to play with her full breasts.

He began to nuzzle the tender spot between her shoulder and

neck.  Her fragrance was entrancing, but he couldn’t identify it.  Nice
and fresh.  Melodie began to squirm under his hands, obviously
looking for more stimulation.  He gently slid one hand down to cup
her mons and begin a circular motion over her core,  which began to
rapidly heat up, as evidenced by her inability to sit still.

When she relaxed into his touch, he slipped his fingers under the

lace of her panties and began to play with her slick pussy, flicking his
thumb over her clit. She sighed. She was clearly enjoying this. Her
body didn’t lie. It was shouting loud and clear.

Melodie's Song

“Do you like that, baby?”
“Yes.”
“The correct response would be ‘yes Sir.’ Want to try that again?”
She groaned as he continued the light stimulation of her pussy. He

glanced his fingers lightly over her clit, not giving her as much as she
wanted. She was open and responsive once she relaxed.

“Yes, Sir.”
That response was a clear act of submission. It was a good start.
“That’s good, sub. I’m going to remove your panties,” he said as

he slid the silky scrap of lace down her legs. “Open for me.” He
waited patiently as she slowly spread her legs wider for him. She was
wet and starting to breathe heavily. With a little more stimulation, he
would have her writhing and reaching for his touch. “One more thing,
sub. You are not permitted to come without my verbal permission. No
exceptions. You have to hold it, no matter how close to orgasm you
are. Your pleasure is mine to give. If you come without permission,
you will be punished.”

* * * *

Melodie looked at him with concern. She didn’t know if she could

do it or not. She hadn’t had much luck with that the other night. She
sighed. She had to admit that Logan really knew how to play her
body.

As Logan continued to work her pussy, she became more and

more agitated and needy. She could feel his very satisfying reaction to
her squirming against his hard shaft as it nestled against her bottom.
He was getting harder and harder. This was interesting. She could
elicit a reaction from him while she was supposedly submitting to his
will.

Logan pinched her bottom and she yelped. “What was that for?”
“That was for what you were thinking. That is called ‘topping

from the bottom,’ or in other words, trying to manipulate your Master

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into doing what you want instead of obeying as you should. It’s not
acceptable behavior, and if you do it again, I’ll paddle your butt.” His
stern expression told her he wasn’t kidding.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” But she grinned inwardly. She was so not sorry.

She could see where she might be able to have some fun with her
stoic, hard-faced Master. She was prepared to push his limits as well.
Logan was in for a surprise. She was not a pushover, and he was
going to have to work for her submission.

* * * *

Logan could read her like a book. He was an experienced Dom,

and had dealt with many subs who had the same ideas. He looked
forward to the challenge. This little subbie was going to learn a lesson
or two today that she might not have expected to learn. The first
lesson was that he was the Master and in control of both their bodies.
The second lesson was what happened to disobedient subs who came
without permission. He continued to play with her pussy, pushing her
closer and closer, and then backing off just as she was about to tip
over the edge into her orgasm.

“Remember, no coming until I give you permission.”
She groaned again and said, “I don’t know if I can hold it.”
He swatted her bottom and said, “You had better hold it. Part of

the lesson today is learning control. Furthermore, I don’t believe I
gave you permission to speak, and I did not hear my title.” He took
his hand away from her pussy, and she became more agitated as she
waited for him to continue the stimulation.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she mumbled. He could see she was having a

hard time concentrating. He resumed his ministrations.

“I’m the one in control here, not you. The sooner you learn to

accept that fact, the easier this will be for you.” He slipped two
fingers into her hot channel, unerringly found her G-spot, and
ruthlessly stimulated it until she was clinging to the very edge of

Melodie's Song

sanity. He usually did not set a sub up for failure. But in this instance,
Melodie needed to learn a lesson. He was the one in control of this
encounter.

* * * *

Melodie was truly starting to get desperate for release as she tried

to push her pussy into his hand to gain a harder contact. Finally, she
gasped, and despite her efforts to hold back, her body would not be
denied any longer. She gave it up and came with a loud cry of release
as a major orgasm washed through her body like waves on the shore.
When the first spasms ceased and her body had stopped shuddering,
she collapsed against him with a satisfied sigh.

“Sub, you came without permission, and you were warned that

would earn you a spanking.”

While the aftershocks of the tsunami of sensation that had

swamped her were still moving through her body, he quickly turned
her over his knee and landed several hard, stinging slaps on her bare
bottom. The hot sensation on her butt sent her immediately into
another mind-blowing orgasm. “That, little one, was what is referred
to as a pain-to-pleasure exchange.”

* * * *

Logan held her close and rubbed her back to soothe her as she

settled down from two mind-blowing orgasms within minutes of each
other. He brushed her hair back from her face, gently kissed the scar
at her temple, and ran his lips down her throat and over her heaving
breasts. He grabbed a soft blanket that was folded over the back of the
chair and wrapped her up in it as she rested across his lap.

His unrelenting hard-on was clambering for attention, but his duty

as the Dom was to see to his sub’s well-being before his own
pleasure. After she had settled down, he had every intention of taking

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her back to his bed in the apartment. He intended that Melodie’s
introduction of the lifestyle would be an encounter she would not
easily forget.

Logan handed her a bottle of water from the small refrigerator in

the corner behind the chair.  “Drink  this.  We’ll just rest here for a
while before we resume your training.”  She sipped the water slowly
as he surreptitiously checked her pulse rate.  He could feel her
heartbeat return to normal. She was a sleepy armful. Her dead weight
in his arms was satisfying, and he enjoyed holding her close to his
heart, but his body was letting him know he needed release as well.
When she started to come back from subspace, he stood up and
carried her to the door where he flipped the light switch and closed
and locked the door.

When they were back in his apartment, he carried her up the steps

to the sleeping platform and carefully put her down on the bed where
he joined her.

Logan let Melodie sleep as he held her against his chest with his

hard shaft nestled into her soft bottom. He waited, not quite patiently,
to see to his own needs. After Melodie had slept like the dead for an
hour, Logan woke her gently with soft kisses up and down her back.
She came fully awake with the intrusion from behind of his hard
member into her willing pussy. He breached her tight passage, swiftly
but not roughly, and began the slow, luxurious strokes that brought
her to another crashing completion. His steel-hard shaft pulsed, his
rock-solid balls pulled up, and he blasted through the explosive
orgasm that had been ready to break free from his aching body for
hours. The relief was exquisite and had been well worth the wait.

When they had both settled back down Logan said, “I hope you

enjoyed your first BDSM experience. What did you think?” He was
dying to know if she had enjoyed the BDSM dynamic and her first
spanking. He knew he had.

“It was different, but I think I liked it.” She yawned and snuggled

into his arms.

Melodie's Song

“What about the spanking?”
“Hmm. Well, I never thought I could come from a spanking—and

so intensely. I would be open to doing that again.”

“I’m glad because I really like spanking your cute butt. I want you

to spend the night with me. What do you say, subbie?”

She sighed and settled back against his broad chest. “Tomorrow is

Sunday, and I don’t have to be at the gallery, so I think I’d like that.”

* * * *

The next morning, Logan leaned back against the fat pillows in

the antique brass bed he’d found at one of the demolition sites and
refinished. It glowed a dull gold, and was etched with an intricate
pattern. It was his favorite piece of furniture. He pulled Melodie back
into his arms. She sighed and burrowed into his warm chest. He just
enjoyed cuddling her for a few minutes and then he said, “Wake up,
sleepyhead. How about a shower and then I’ll make breakfast?”

“I don’t know if I can move,” she muttered sleepily.
“No problem.” He swung his legs over the side of the wide bed

and stood up. He picked her up in his arms as he headed for the
bathroom. Melodie struggled ineffectively in his grasp as he reached
in and adjusted the temperature of the stinging multi-jet steam
shower. He walked in and drenched them both before he put her
down. She sputtered as the waterfall of hot water poured down on her
head. “Are you awake yet?” he asked with a devilish grin.

“No,” she mumbled. Clearly, Melodie was not a morning person.

Logan chuckled to himself. They’d had a great night, and he was
pleased with her initial reaction to the BDSM play.

“I can fix that.” Logan crushed her lips with a rough kiss worthy

of an Apache warrior. He pulled her up against his morning erection
and plundered her soft lips, while coaxing her relentlessly into
opening her mouth and accepting his questing tongue. She sighed and
sank into the kiss as the water pounded down on them.

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Logan soaped them both down with the spicy body gel that he

preferred. He ran his big hands up and down Melodie’s body, paying
particular attention to her sweet breasts and pulsing pussy. He patted
her butt and boosted her up until she wrapped her legs around his
waist. He braced her back up against the shower wall and sank into
her hot pussy as he roughly nuzzled her neck. He began to pump into
her hot core and in short order had brought them both to a very
satisfying morning orgasm.

“That’s a great way to start the day. Ready for breakfast?” He

grinned at her still-sleepy scowl.

“I guess so. Are you always so cheerful in the morning? It’s kind

of annoying.”

“No, not always. But so far, this has been a really great morning.”
“Not half bad, Logan. Not half bad,” she agreed with a wide

yawn.

“Can you spend the day with me? I’d like to work out in the gym,

and then we can go out for lunch. How does that sound?’

“That sounds good. I wouldn’t mind spending some time in the

gym. I’ve kind of avoided that as well for the last two years.”

“Well, that avoiding shit ends now. Understand?”
She laughed. “Yes, Master.”

* * * *

They were on their way out of the building, heading uptown for

lunch when Melodie felt a strange prickling sensation between her
shoulder blades. Since the attack, she never ignored feelings like that.
She turned around quickly and thought she saw the woman who had
been removed from the concert duck back around the corner of the
building.

“Logan, did I just see that Karin person scoot around the corner?”
“Shit. Probably. She’s taken to hanging out on the street watching

for me or the other floor owners to see if she can sneak into the

Melodie's Song

building behind someone. She only loosely abides by the restraining
order, but one hundred feet is really not much distance.”

“That’s kind of scary, Logan. I know I’m particularly sensitive to

matters of security, but I would be very uncomfortable knowing
someone was following me with the intention of violating my
privacy.”

“I wish it was only my privacy she wanted to violate. She’s

actually put hands on me more than once. Short of clocking her one, I
don’t know what else to do. And truthfully, I’d be reluctant to do
that.”

“I can understand that. You could end up being the one with the

assault charge. I can see the headlines now—“Rock Star Assaults
Fan.”

He grinned. “‘Rock Star.’ I like that.” He pulled her into his side.

“I think I’ll keep you around.”

“Really, O Great One? I’m honored.” She giggled. She hadn’t

done much giggling in the last two years, and it felt great. He felt
great.

“And so you should be.” They walked up the street toward the

subway and Karin Sanders was forgotten.

* * * *

Just who the fuck is that bitch he’s got his hands on? She had seen

her backstage at the concert in the park yesterday.  Karin Sanders
came out from the alley and watched Logan and the bitch walk up the
street.  She followed a distance behind,  trying to keep other
pedestrians between herself and Logan.  He was hers.  Her Master.
She’d paid two thousand dollars for him at the bachelor charity
auction at Le Club Eastside last July. He’d taken her under command
as his sub, and now he wanted to brush her off, had the nerve to get a
restraining order against her. That shit is not going to fly.

Skye Michaels

Logan Hawk was going to be hers, and the bitch had to go. She’d

figure it out. She kept a distance between them and finally followed
them down into the subway. She stayed behind a column until a train
pulled in and they got aboard. She walked two cars down the platform
and got into another car. She could see them both through the glass of
the intervening cars. They were hanging from straps in the middle of
the crowded subway car, plastered up against each other while he held
her steady. His head dipped down, and he kissed her.

Fuck. That just made her furious. Logan’s arms should be around

her, his lips should be on hers, not around some other woman who
had no claim on him. God, he’s beautiful—free and strong like the
soaring hawk he’s named for. She wanted him. She was going to have
him.

Melodie's Song

Chapter Seven

Four months later at Le Club Eastside-Manhattan, Lower East Side of
Manhattan, New York, Friday night, November 13, 2015

Logan kept his black GMC Yukon SUV in the garage under the

building.  He didn’t use the car  that often in the city.  It was big,  but
very handy for carting plants and flowers for the roof garden and band
equipment, when necessary. He had smacked Melodie’s delicious butt
and then helped her up into the front bucket seat and buckled her seat
belt. He knew she chafed at those small indicators of dominance from
him, but they were his prerogative, and he enjoyed them.  She was
wearing a short, tight, black spandex dress and killer spike heels
without underwear,  according to the rule.  He grinned.  His cock
hardened at just the idea of her bare, tight, wet pussy under that dress.
Their sexual attraction had certainly not cooled down at all over the
last four months.

Melodie had blossomed since they had been together, and he was

proud that part of the reason was due to their relationship.  He knew
she was still self-conscious about the scar on her face, but she was
getting better about it.  She never covered her face when they were
alone, and she had come to view the members of the band like
brothers and didn’t hide from them anymore,  either.  They were all
crazy about her, too. That warmed his heart.

He would still sometimes feel her start to reach up to pull her hair

forward when they were out in public, and depending on the situation,
sometimes he let her do it and sometimes he put his hand up to stop

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the automatic motion. Occasionally she still needed that shield, but he
looked forward to the day when she no longer would. She had another
surgery scheduled for the beginning of the year when he and the band
would be on their six-city tour. He wished the timing had worked out
better, but he suspected that she didn’t want him to be there. Her
parents would be flying in from Phoenix, and Pansy would be there,
so he really didn’t have to worry. Pansy would keep him informed.
They had become good friends, and she appreciated the progress that
Melodie had made under his care.

Logan and the guys had been members of Le Club Eastside for

well over a year.  The club was located in an old factory building on
the Lower Eastside of Manhattan, and the entire parking lot was under
camera surveillance. Logan put his palm to the plate on the aged brick
pillar, and they drove through the high,  black iron gates into the
heavily secured parking lot. They walked to the back door of the club.
The rear entrance to Le  Club and the parking lot were unmarked.
There was no clue that a very exclusive, secret BDSM club was
located inside.  The only signs said “No Trespassing” and
“Danger/Enter at Your Own Risk.” Again, Logan put his palm to the
security plate beside the heavy metal door. They went into the formal
reception area.  The club was buzzing,  as usual.  He glanced at the
sign-in sheet and saw  that Barbara Brown and her sub Ross
Blackstone were there,  as were Billie and Tyler.  He guessed Billie
and Tyler were trolling the uncollared subs corner for partners,  as
neither had full-time subs of their own.

“Let’s go, sub.” He waited for her to fall into position behind his

right shoulder. It had taken some work, but Melodie now almost
always assumed correct sub protocol when they were in a scene or at
the club. It hadn’t come naturally, and she had earned a few
spankings, but she was doing well. She had actually admitted to him
that she enjoyed the submission and the protocol. They freed her mind
and allowed her to just give over control to him. “We’ll get a drink,
say hello to Barb and Ross and the guys, and then get a station.” He

Melodie's Song

looked around and spotted Barbara Brown, the Domme, and her sub,
Ross, who was actually a hedge fund manager. Apparently, he found
the act of submission to Barbara to be a stress reliever as well.

* * * *

What the fuck? Why is he taking the bitch to our place? This was

where they met—where they fell in love.  She knew he loved her.
They’d been together here.  They’d fucked here.  And then after one
dinner,  he’d dropped her like a hot potato.  It wasn’t right.  She just
knew that he loved her.  She was going to have his children.  They
were going to have a life together.  She just had to get rid of the
bitch—the bitch who was always staying over at his place  and
spending time with the band.  They were constantly together, and
Karin didn’t like it.  She wouldn’t put up with it anymore.  Her
membership  had lapsed, and she couldn’t access the parking lot or
door security at the club anymore.  But she’d wait for them  to come
out. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she was going to
do something. She had to. He was hers.

* * * *

Logan joined Barbara Brown at the bar. Both subs looked to their

Masters for permission to greet each other. Logan and Barbara both
nodded. “So, Logan, what’s shaking?”

“We’re in the Rockefeller Plaza show and getting ready for our

six-city tour at the beginning of next year and working on a new
album. What’s up with you?”

“I’m thinking of having another charity bachelor auction. But

damn, my two biggest moneymakers appear to be off the market. You
have a subbie of your own, and my cousin, Jack Brown, is engaged.
He’s getting married in Fort Lauderdale at Christmas. Ross and I are
going down for the wedding.”

Skye Michaels

“Don’t say the words ‘bachelor auction’ to me ever again. I’m still

dealing with that nut case who had the winning bid on me. I actually
had to take a restraining order out against her, as much good as it’s
done me.”

“You’re kidding. I had no idea. What was her name again?”
“Karin Sanders. She follows me, has tried to get into my loft, and

has sent me some very disturbing letters. It’s really been a problem.
And all that after one scene and one dinner. I don’t get it.”

“She’s obviously disturbed. You should be careful, Logan. Look

what happened to John Lennon. These stalkers can be dangerous.”

“No kidding. I always look around when I leave the loft. I never

know where she’s going to be hiding. So what’s up with Jack? He’s
getting married? I hadn’t heard that.”

“The crazy fool is marrying that cop that gave him such a hard

time last summer. Kaylin Gallagher. He and Jamie Devereau formed
an investment group and bought a hotel on Fort Lauderdale Beach.
They refurbished it and turned it into a BDSM facility—sort of in
conjunction with Jamie’s Golden Dolphin mega-yacht. It’s called the
Black Dahlia Hotel, and the grand opening is Christmas day. Jack’s
wedding is Christmas Eve at the hotel. You and your sub should go
down, have a vacation before you leave on tour.”

“You know, that might be a good idea. I wouldn’t mind a week or

two in Florida. I’ll see if Melodie can get away from the gallery, with
the holiday rush and all.”

“Do that. From the pictures I’ve seen, the place is incredible and

has full and very luxurious BDSM facilities as well. Ross and I are
really looking forward to the trip.”

“That is sounding better and better. Thanks for the heads-up,

Barbara.” He leaned over and kissed Barbara’s cheek before he turned
to Melodie, who had been in deep conversation with Ross. He
gestured for her to take up her position and then headed toward a St.
Andrew’s Cross that had just opened up against the back wall.
Melodie fell into position behind him obediently after giving Ross a

Melodie's Song

little finger wave. Logan frowned at her, and she bowed her head
while giving Ross a wink. That girl needed to feel the palm of his
hand on her butt. She was asking for a correction, and she was going
to get one. He grinned. Yeah. A vacation in Florida at a BDSM hotel
was sounding very good indeed.

Logan took Melodie’s hand and pulled her behind him toward the

St. Andrew’s Cross. “Are you ready for our scene, sub? I think a little
time on the cross will help you to adjust your attitude.”

“That sounds like fun, Master.”
“It’s not supposed to be fun, sub.” He frowned at her. “I saw that

wink you gave Ross. And don’t grin at me like that. You are supposed
to be nervous. You are about to get a punishment. Now straighten
up.”

He could see she was far from nervous and afraid of him. He

might need to take it up a notch. He didn’t want her terrified of him or
of playing with him, but a modicum of respect would be nice.

Who was he kidding? Certainly not himself. He would lay down

his life for this woman, but in the dungeon, he would demand respect.
He had been taking it easy on her because of everything that had
happened. “All right, sub, strip and assume the position.”

“Yes, Master.” Melodie unhurriedly removed her dress and placed

it neatly on the floor. She was now naked except for the red play
collar he had given her to wear at the club and the killer black spike
heels. That look turned him on like flipping a light switch. She sank
gracefully to her knees and assumed the slave position with her eyes
down, although she just had to peek up through her long, dark
eyelashes to try to see what Logan was up to.

“Disobeying already, sub? Eyes down. When I want you to know

what I am  doing, I will  tell you.  I think you have earned a couple
more strokes added on to your punishment.”  He was grinning
internally, although he did not let it show.  His naturally stern
expression and his hawklike profile did the work for him.  Although
they had scened  together  a number of times now, she was still far

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from experienced. It was easy to manipulate her, and somehow that
didn’t sit right with him, although his hand itched to connect with that
gorgeous ass of hers.

“I’m sorry, Master.”
“Funny, but you just don’t look very sorry to me.” The fact that

she was acting like a little brat just showed how comfortable she was.
She was trying to manipulate him, and here he had just been feeling
bad about manipulating her. He would have to see what he could do
to discourage that habit. It wasn’t a trait he intended to encourage.

“Topping from the bottom, sub? For a newbie, you seem to have

picked up that trick very quickly.” He reached down to deliver a
smack, and she jumped as his hand connected with her bottom in a
smart slap.

“Ouch. I didn’t do anything,” and she quickly added “Master” as

he moved to smack her again.

Logan reached into his rolling toy bag the monitor had delivered

to the cross station they were using. The service at Le Club Eastside
was exceptional. He picked out a set of leather suspension cuffs lined
with sheepskin and a soft suede flogger. He returned to Melodie and
gestured for her to raise her wrists.  He buckled on the cuffs and
carefully checked to be sure they fit properly.  He took her hand,
raised her to her feet and guided her to the St. Andrew’s  Cross.  He
quickly fastened her wrists and ankles to the frame and checked to be
sure she was comfortable.  That wasn’t going to last.  He planned to
make sure of it. Her ass was going to be red hot in the car on the way
home tonight.  He adjusted the bindings until he was satisfied.  The
delay served to up her anxiety level as well.

“Now, sub, remember. You are not to speak or come without my

express verbal permission.” He always reiterated his instructions so
there would be no misunderstanding.

Melodie looked like she wanted to say something, but was

obviously restraining herself, although Logan knew that was hard for

Melodie's Song

her. She was a self-possessed woman, and true submission was not
easy for her. To Logan’s mind, that just made it all the more valuable.

Logan ran his hands down her back and over her butt, enjoying

the silky feeling of her skin and sleek muscles under his hands. She
smelled delicious as well—like Light Blue, if he wasn’t mistaken. He
patted her butt tentatively a few times. I love that jiggle. He looked
forward to turning her butt a lovely, bright shade of pink.

Her legs were spread open for him by her position on the cross,

and her butt was tipped out by the high spike heels of her shoes. He
stepped up close behind her and slipped his hand down between her
cheeks until he found her moist, hot center. “Good, sub. I like it when
you’re nice and wet for me.” He slid his fingers through her wet cunt
and lightly over her clit.  She jerked and then tried to reach for his
questing fingers.  Another quick smack connected with her ass, and
she stopped moving.  “I’m in charge here.  If you keep topping from
the bottom, your ass is going to end up being as red as my favorite
chili peppers and twice as hot. Submit, and I will give you pleasure in
my own time.”

“Yes, Master. I’m sorry.” He could see she was getting excited

and getting itchy—just what he wanted.  He slapped her ass with
several  wicked upward swings, and smiled as the impact rippled
through her round cheeks,  with  just the right amount of sting to get
the festivities started. Her ass jiggled temptingly.

He picked up his favorite suede flogger, the one with the small

knots braided into the strips, and ran if softly over her back and butt,
readying her for the first strike. Logan could see that she was
trembling in anticipation as she waited for him to continue.

* * * *

Melodie had visited several toy websites recently on the internet

as she tried to educate herself about the lifestyle, and she had seen
several versions of floggers. However, she had not yet experienced

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one.  She’d read that although they looked scary,  they weren’t
necessarily harsh, that it depended on the material they were made of.
Patent leather strips would sting,  while soft suede was reported to
have a more thuddy feeling. She had to admit she was a little scared,
and her heart was racing.  A shaft of dark need spiraled down her
spine to her pussy, but she was unable to close her legs. Her clit was
pulsing.  She was dying for him to touch her  there, but she was
helpless.  She knew she couldn’t ask him for what she so obviously
wanted. If she did, he would make her wait that much longer.

While Logan might punish her as part of a scene, and her butt

might sting, he would never really hurt her. The first lightly stinging
strike of the flogger landed full across her round, vulnerable butt. He
alternated sides, landed several hits on her upper back and across her
thighs before the last one came down square on her butt again with a
few of the strips landing between her legs on her mons and wet pussy.
An orgasm washed over her like a firestorm. It flowed through her
system as she braced helplessly against the cross.

Before she had completely recovered, Logan knelt down behind

her and spread her cheeks. She pushed her ass out toward his mouth
as far as she could in her bound position. She knew she was taunting
him, plain and simple. He slipped his tongue into her hot channel, and
she bucked against his mouth. She glanced down at him over her
shoulder with lustful, hungry eyes and continued to push her hot, pink
bottom toward him. Her movement was restricted and she didn’t have
much leeway. “Please, Master, I need…” She was begging for another
release.

* * * *

Logan continued the slow torture, tasting and teasing her pulsing

pussy and then backing off. He let her stew, knowing that sooner or
later she would erupt into another hot orgasm. After a few more
minutes of his unrelenting teasing, he felt the quickening of her pulse.

Melodie's Song

“Okay, sub, come now,” he said as she blasted off toward another
orgasm. He opened his leathers and quickly entered her from behind
while playing her clit from the front. She screamed another release as
he pounded into her over and over. He buried his face in her neck,
trembled as his balls pulled up against his body, and he shot his seed
into her tight passage. She pulsed around him as her pussy milked his
shaft for every drop, and she hung helplessly from the frame of the
cross.

* * * *

Melodie was drained. Her pussy hummed and pulsed with each

heartbeat and rippling wave of pleasure.  She felt Logan kiss her
shoulder as ecstasy continued to shudder through her. She knew in her
heart that this was her man—a man who would take everything she
had to give without apology and give her everything in return.  She
knew he would always dominate her in bed or in a scene with his
easy, powerful grace, but that he would always do it with care. They
had not yet said the “L” word, but she felt it in everything he said and
did. She knew she would usually submit to him, but not always, and
he would respect her enough to know when not to push it. He was a
man who was confident in his own judgment and would make most of
the decisions for them,  but would always consult her wishes on  the
important ones. The struggle for dominance between them had put a
sharp edge on the sweeter moments. He had liberated her walled-off
emotions and opened her heart and mind to new experiences.

* * * *

Melodie relaxed back in the plush leather seat of Logan’s SUV.

She reached over and put her hand on his thigh, and he immediately
covered it with his own. She was tired, but relaxed. She always
enjoyed a trip to the club or his private dungeon. When she felt his big

Skye Michaels

hand on her butt, she relaxed into the sting. She loved it now, but she
was still too embarrassed to say so.

“How do you feel, babe?”
“Great. I never would have believed that a flogging could be

relaxing until I experienced the feeling for myself, but it really is just
like a deep muscle massage.” She giggled. “And the other massage
wasn’t bad, either.”

“Not bad? I thought I was superb.”
“You would! Men.”
“On another subject besides the magnificence of your Master,

Barbara Brown suggested that we try her cousin Jack’s new BDSM
hotel in Fort Lauderdale. The grand opening is Christmas day. Do you
think you can get away? I know it’s the holiday season and all, but
Jasper—”

“Jasper is perfectly capable of handling the gallery for a few days.

I’d love to go. That sounds great.”

“I was thinking of more like two weeks. Your surgery is

scheduled, and we have the tour. I’d like to be able to spend some
quality time with you before the shit hits—”

A car crashed into Melodie’s side door. It bounced off the side

panel and then bumped it a second time. Logan looked into his side
view mirror quickly and then changed lanes and hit the gas. He pulled
ahead of the dark van in the right lane and without taking his eyes off
the road, asked, “Are you okay, Mel?”

“I think so.” She was stunned. What the hell? That had been

deliberate.

The van sped up and hit the side of the SUV again. When it came

up alongside, Melodie looked to her right to see who was driving the
van, but the windows were heavily tinted. She couldn’t see the driver.

Logan pulled ahead again, swerved, and cut the van off with

inches to spare. He exited the highway onto the convenient ramp. The
van, unable to react quickly enough, continued down the highway and
out of sight.

Melodie's Song

“What the fuck, Melodie? Could you see who was driving?”
“No. The windows were too dark. I could only see a vague

shadow.”

Logan parked the car and released both their seatbelts. “Are you

sure you’re okay?”  He ran has hand over her upper body and then
pulled her into a tight hug.  “Thank God for good old heavy,
American-made cars.”  She could feel his heart pounding, and hers
was hammering away as well.

Logan looked around and located the street signs, and then he

reached into his pocket for his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. After
reporting the accident and being told to wait for a cruiser, Logan
leaned back and expelled a huge sigh. He reached for Melodie’s hand
and held it tightly as she burrowed into him.

Within a few minutes, a police cruiser pulled up behind them. The

officer approached the car, walked around to the passenger side and
surveyed the damage. The passenger side door was freshly and deeply
gauged and dented, and bare metal glinted under the paint.

The officer then came to the driver’s side window. “Is everyone

okay here?”

“We’re okay. Just shook up.”
“License, registration, and insurance please, sir.”
“I have them right here.” Logan passed the documents out the

window and then shook his head. “I have to say, that was damn
scary.”

“Did you get a license plate or see the driver? Can you describe

the other vehicle?”

“It was a late model blue or black van. I don’t know what make or

model. The windows were dark, and I was too busy taking evasive
action to try to see the license plates. I was lucky to be able to exit and
that the driver of the van wasn’t able to follow.”

“We’ll get this written up for your insurance claim, but I doubt

we’ll be able to find the driver without a license plate number or

Skye Michaels

description. Do you have a problem with anyone that would want to
injure you? Had any altercations with anyone lately?”

“No…but I do have a restraining order out against a stalker. I

can’t imagine she could have…”

“Give me the name and any information, and we’ll look into it.”
By the time they had finished with the police and the traffic

investigators, it was well after midnight. “Where do you want to
spend the night, honey? Your place or mine?”

“Let’s go to my place. I have a good security system. I don’t know

if I’m going to be able to sleep tonight. Logan, that was no accident.
That van deliberately crashed into my door.”

“I know, baby. I know. That could have ended very badly. Why

would someone deliberately damage their own car to hit us?”

“Do you think Karin is that crazy? Could she have done

something like this?”

“I don’t know. The letters she sent me…I’ll show them to you. I

think they were the reason I was able to get the restraining order.
They are really out-there.”

“Take me home, Logan. I just want to go to bed.”
Logan secured her seat belt and then his own, pulled back out onto

the street, and headed for Melodie’s brownstone.

* * * *

Saturday morning, Logan walked Melody to work before he

headed over to the loft. He had an early appointment with the
insurance adjuster and some meetings with the record company
uptown. Then he was going to talk to his attorney again about Karin
Sanders. Maybe he could get the distance on the restraining order
increased to three hundred feet, as if that would help.

Shit. There she was—standing on the other side of the street,

watching him. He was sure she was the requisite one hundred feet
away, but he didn’t like it. Hell, a hundred feet wasn’t going to save

Melodie's Song

him or Melodie from  a bullet.  He really did think she could be
dangerous, but he hadn’t wanted to frighten  Melodie any more than
she already was.  She was still working through the aftermath of the
knife attack two years ago, and now this.  It didn’t seem fair.  Logan
didn’t know if he should try to talk to Karin, try to reason with her, or
if that would only make matters worse.

When he got upstairs to the loft, Billie was waiting for him. He

had already put on a pot of coffee, and a box of donuts was open on
the table in the rehearsal area. Although Billie was the one most likely
to ride his ass about shit, Logan knew he could depend on him for
anything. The other guys would be there for him as well, but he and
Billie were particularly close.

“Hey, man. What’s shakin?’” His shaggy, curly brown hair was

still wet from a shower, but he was wearing his usual uniform of T-
shirt and faded jeans with high-top sneakers. This one was a Guns N’
Roses shirt of which he was particularly fond. The droopy, brown
bedroom eyes that got him more attention from women than he
deserved were at half-mast. Apparently, he’d had a late night at the
club.

Logan filled him in on last night’s events. “Yeah, I saw you and

Mel at the club, but I didn’t want to interrupt the scene.” He looked
shocked. “So, someone actually sideswiped your car?”

“The whole right side is scraped up. We couldn’t see the driver—

blackout windows. The insurance adjuster should be here any time
now. You can walk down to the garage with us when he gets here and
see the damage.”

“Do you think it might be Karin? I know she’d a nut, but

really…that’s going way far over the line.”

“I was wondering that myself. I don’t know if I should talk to her

or if that might just give her something to hang her delusions on.”

“I don’t know, man. That’s a hard one, when you’re dealing with

someone who is a brick short of a load, you know? Maybe if we both
approached her together, it would be harder to interpret that as a

Skye Michaels

romantic overture on your part, plus you’d have a witness as to what
was actually said.”

“Good idea. Let’s see if she’s around after the adjuster leaves.”

* * * *

Karin was sitting on a bench outside the coffee shop across and

down the street from Logan’s loft.  She was watching the door.  She
had seen him go in alone, but she had also seen Billie Crockett go up
earlier,  carrying a box of donuts.  All the guys in the band were fit,
even though it appeared that they lived on donuts and pizza.  But
Logan was absolutely magnificent.  His body was a temple—her
temple.

Wow. And here he comes. Too bad that Billie is with him. Maybe

she had finally gotten his attention. Maybe this was her moment at
last.

“Karin. Got a minute?” His face was hard, and his eyes were like

chipped ice. He didn’t sound particularly lover-like. In fact, he
sounded supremely pissed. That was not the reaction she was hoping
for.

“Sure. What do you want?”
“You know you’re not supposed to be within a hundred feet of

me.”

“I wasn’t. I measured the distance to your door. It is exactly one

hundred and two feet. You came over here to me.”

“I’m talking about last night when you rammed the side of my car

on the West Side Highway. That was way closer than a hundred feet.”

“What? I didn’t do any such thing. You’re crazy. Why would I

ever do something like that?”

Billie grinned. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much, or

whatever the fuck Willie Shakespeare said.”

Logan just shook his head. “Karin, this has to stop. I don’t know

how it got so out of hand. We never had a relationship. I’m sorry if

Melodie's Song

you misunderstood our scene after the bachelor auction, but that’s all
it was—one scene. There isn’t going to be another. You need to get
on with your life before you get yourself into something you can’t get
out of. Understand? That’s it. Stop this. Leave me alone.”

“But, Logan, I love you. I can’t give up on us, even if you’re with

that bitch now. You’re mine. I bought you at the auction. We’re going
to have a life together. I’m going to have your baby.”

“Karin, there is no us. You’re delusional. We are not going to

have anything together. You are not pregnant by me. If you were, it
would be the second coming since we never had intercourse. I don’t
want to be cruel, but that never happened, and it could never happen.
You need to get a grip. I’d be willing to refund your charity donation
if that would get you to leave me alone. Think about it.” He backed
up and turned to Billie. “Let’s go. This is not making things better.”

Karin was shaking. He just does not get it. She was going to have

his child if she had to tie him up and ride him like a stallion to get
pregnant. She was not going to give up. He had come over to talk to
her. That was good. He had never done that before. If only she had
been able to get rid of the bitch last night. Well, she would watch for
another chance.

She had dumped the van she’d stolen from a shopping mall on

Long Island out in Queens after wiping her fingerprints off the
steering wheel. There was no way that she could be connected to what
had happened last night. All she had to do was continue to deny her
involvement. Eventually she would prevail. She had to. Failure was
not an option.

* * * *

Logan was striding back toward the loft with Billie in his wake.

“Well, that went well.”

“You had to try, man. I don’t know what else to say, though. She

definitely woke up on the wrong side of life. That chick is nuts.”

Melodie's Song

Chapter Eight

30 Rockefeller Plaza between West 48

and 51

Streets and Fifth and

Sixth Avenues, New York, New York, Wednesday midafternoon,
December 2, 2015—Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony

Logan smiled. Melodie was helping the band set up for their part

in the  concert accompanying the eightieth annual tree-lighting
ceremony in Rockefeller Plaza  that evening.  That mostly included
getting  coffee and  hot chocolate for the guys,  although she was
usually more help than underfoot  now.  They were busy  attending  to
sound checks, testing amps and mics, and making sure all their
instruments were present and accounted for.  The annual televised
event was a New York City favorite.  About two hundred fifty
thousand spectators were expected to crowd the sidewalks around the
Plaza, and eleven million viewers would watch the live broadcast on
televisions, computers, iPads and cell phones. The lights on the
seventy-five-foot Norway spruce—wrapped in five miles of wire,
thirty-eight thousand bulbs and topped with a twenty-five-thousand-
crystal Swarovski star—would be  turned on for the first time.  Being
included in the Christmas at Rockefeller Center live broadcast was a
huge honor.  The  hit single from their album  had made the crossover
and was climbing the music charts.  Everything was looking really
good for their tour beginning in mid-January.

Logan had planned for the band to play one Christmas number

and two of the songs from their album. He might need to expand their
program since he had heard that one of the expected stars had
cancelled at the last minute, and another’s promised video was not

Skye Michaels

going to be ready in time. That was show business. Performers had to
be ready to roll with the punches and step up to the plate—mixed
metaphors, but what the heck.

“Hey, babe? Would you mind running out to get us some

sandwiches? Keep it simple, roast beef hoagies all-the-way, all
around. Here’s some cash.”

“Okay, but any complaints will be severely dealt with.” She put

on her Sherpa jacket, put the bills in her jeans pocket with her cell
phone, and went toward the stage door entrance.

“Do you have your pass so you can get back in? Backstage

security is pretty tight.”

“Got it around my neck. See you in a few.”

* * * *

Once she was outside, Melodie pulled out her cell phone to check

directions for the nearest deli and headed off down Sixth Avenue
toward Forty-Ninth Street. She turned onto Forty-Ninth and was
looking for the deli when she felt the pressure of something sharp
against her back through her fleece-lined jacket.

“Keep walking and shut up or I’ll cut you. If you want to live,

you’ll do what I say.” The voice was a scary whisper, but it sounded
like…a woman? Did women do this kind of stuff?

“I’ve got some cash in my pocket. I’ll give it to you. You don’t

have to hurt me.”

“Shut up and keep walking like I said.”
Melodie kept walking, but she was terrified. This couldn’t be

happening again.  The thought of a knife at her back made her legs
weak. What would the person do if she just crumbled to the ground?
Stab her?  Cut up her face  again?  She didn’t think she could handle
that  a second time.  She kept walking, but her mind was whirling a
mile a minute.  What the hell? Was she going down like a victim, or
was she going down fighting? If she had to go down, she would rather

Melodie's Song

it was fighting. She’d had as much of this crap as she was going to
take. She wouldn’t be a victim again.

She whirled around, and with a stiff left arm, she shoved her

attacker and then knocked the knife out of her hand with her cocked
right elbow. It looked like those self-defense classes she’d taken after
the attack were paying off. The woman was startled as the knife went
skittering across the sidewalk and bounced into the gutter. The traffic
was moving fast through the green light. It would have been suicide to
try to retrieve it. Melodie got a good look at her attacker. It was Karin
Sanders.

“This isn’t over, bitch,” Karin said as she spun away and ran.
Melodie watched as Karin turned into an alley and disappeared.

She collapsed to her knees and began to shake. The pedestrian traffic
split around her as though she was an island in the stream, and she
guessed she was. This was New York. Finally, an older woman with
her arms full of shopping bags stopped. “Are you all right, dear? Can
I call someone for you?”

“Yes, I’m fine. No, actually, I’m not. Could you just stay here

with me for a few minutes while I call my boyfriend?” Melodie was
shivering now as much from reaction to this newest attack as from the
cold December wind that whipped down the street between the
canyons of tall buildings, carrying a few snow flurries.

“Of course, dear. Do you want to stand up and get out of the flow

of traffic?”

“Yes. Thank you.” The woman helped her stand and move over to

lean against a glass storefront. She pulled her phone out of her pocket,
and the bills Logan had given her dropped to the ground.  She
automatically  bent to pick them  up as she hit his number on speed
dial.  “Logan?  I’m out on Forty-Ninth.  Karin tried to…I don’t know
what she tried to do. She had knife…”

“I’ll be right there. Are you hurt? Are you in a safe place?”
“I knocked the knife out of her hand, and she ran away. There’s a

nice lady here with me now.”

Skye Michaels

“I’ll call the police. Don’t move. If you have to, can you go inside

a store?”

“I’m okay. Just hurry.” She was breathing hard and trying not to

cry. She wasn’t going to ball her eyes out on the street like a six-year-
old that had gotten separated from her mommy. She just wasn’t. She
was a damn New Yorker. She was tough. She had just disarmed a
knife-wielding attacker. Geez, I just disarmed a knife-wielding
attacker. Holy shit!

* * * *

Logan looked around for Billie. “Hey, man. Something just

happened to Melodie. I think Karin attacked her out on the street.
Melodie said she had a knife. I’m going to go get her. I may have to
talk to the police. If I’m not back in time, you’re going to have to be
lead. I’ll do my best to get back, but I have to take care of Melodie.”

“Sure, man. I’ll handle it. But I hope you get back. This is big for

us, and I want you here.”

“I’ll do my best.” He grabbed his phone and his security pass and

ran out the stage door entrance while dialing 9-1-1.

By the time he found Melodie standing on the street, he was

beside himself. The older woman had put her packages down and had
her arms around Melodie. When he came running up, she calmly gave
Melodie a quick hug, picked up her packages and went on her way.
This was New York, after all. He pulled Melodie into his arms. “Oh,
baby. I never should have let you go out alone. What the fuck was I
thinking?”

“That I’m an adult capable of going out for some sandwiches?

Don’t be ridiculous, Logan.  This wasn’t your fault.”  She burrowed
into his chest, and then the tears started to fall.  Soon,  they  were a
cascade down her cheeks.  He could see that reaction to the extreme
fear was starting to set in. She’d held up great, up until now.

Melodie's Song

Two police cruisers pulled to the curb and four uniformed officers

got out. They were followed by an unmarked car and two detectives.
Security around the Plaza was heavy because of the huge expected
crowds. The iconic event had the possibility of provoking a terrorist
attack, and the police were on high alert. An attempted stabbing of
someone involved in the tree lighting event outside the Plaza got a big
response. The knife was retrieved and bagged for evidence.

“So, you’re with the show, sir? What band?”
“That’s right. I’m with Dark Place, and we’re opening the show at

seven. Melodie is freezing. Can we go back inside and answer any
more questions there?”

The female detective looked interested. “I love that band. Sure, we

can take this inside. The Mayor would have our asses if we caused a
delay in the show.”

They returned via the backstage entrance where the detectives

flashed their badges. As soon as they were back inside, Melodie was
mobbed by the guys.

Of course, Billie had to be a wise-ass. “So, where’s my sandwich,

girlie?” She just gave him the fisheye, and he burst out laughing. “I’m
glad you’re okay. So you disarmed a knife attacker? Good job.”

Logan said, “You know, in all the excitement, that little fact got

right by me. You did good, Melodie. You might make a New Yorker
yet.”

“I am a damn New Yorker, and don’t forget it, buddy!”
The detectives questioned Melodie and took her statement. Logan

added what he knew about Karin Sanders.

“She’s got to be losing it to do something like this. I’ve felt that

she was dangerous all along, but I didn’t think she would attack
Melodie. I figured she’d come after me. I was pretty sure she was the
one on the highway, but neither of us could see her or get a license
plate.”

“We’ll get an APB out on her. We’ll pull the reports of the

incident on the West Side Highway and see if they ever found the van

Skye Michaels

or anything.” Finally, after calling in the all-points bulletin, the
detectives left.

Logan didn’t want to let go of Melodie. Finally, she struggled out

of his arms. “I’m fine, Logan. You guys should do what you have to
do. You have a show in an hour. I am afraid to say you’ll have to call
out for sandwiches. I’m not going back out there again.” Billie just
grinned.

* * * *

Logan stood out on stage, looking over the crowd. This had been

way too close of a call. He could have lost Melodie forever today. If
she hadn’t had her wits about her, she could have been killed. Who
knew what Karin had in mind?

He bowed his head and gave thanks for a moment before he

signaled the first sharp chord and the show began. No one but his
brothers in the band knew what had happened and how close they had
come to losing someone they all cared for. He had to think about this.
Karin was still on the loose, and Melodie might still be in danger.

He started the show with Jingle Bell Rock and then I Saw Mommy

Kissing Santa Claus before he went into three songs from the album.
They exited the stage to thunderous applause as the next act took their
place. They gave a short backstage interview to the Entertainment
Tonight crew, and then Logan just wanted to get home.

Nothing was said about Melodie’s attack out on Forty-Ninth

Street, but Logan refused to let go of her, and she was front-and-
center with the band during the entire interview.

The anchor turned to Melodie. “So, are you and Logan Hawk an

item? I’m sure the band’s female fans will want us to get the scoop
for them.” It was a measure of how upset she still was that she made
no attempt to adjust her hair over her scar.

Before she could state a denial, Logan said, “We are. Very much

so. If I don’t finalize the deal soon, one of these guys will try to steal

Melodie's Song

her from me.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss over the scar at her
temple.

* * * *

When they were back at the loft, the instruments and equipment

had been unloaded and stowed, and the guys had left, Melodie turned
to Logan. “I could really use a hot shower. I haven’t been able to
warm up. I don’t know if it’s cold or nerves. And then I just want to
relax in bed. I’d like to watch the lighting ceremony on the late news
and then maybe catch the Entertainment Tonight interview. What do
you say?”

“Anything you want, baby. Anything at all.” She could see that

Logan was still way off his stride. He said, “Are you hungry? How
about if we just call out for pizza?”

“That’s fine. I’ll open a bottle of wine and let it breathe while we

take our shower.”

“Good idea.” He looked relieved but still wary.
Melodie opened a bottle of Chianti while Logan placed the pizza

order. When he was done he walked over to the kitchen island, and he
took the opener from her hand. He gently began to unbutton her shirt,
flipped open the front closure of her bra, and lowered her jeans. When
she had kicked off her boots and socks, he steadied her while she
stepped out of her jeans and panties. He quickly stripped and, pulling
her behind him, he  headed toward the bathroom.  When he had
adjusted the  water temperature, they  stepped inside the glass
enclosure that was rapidly filling with steam.  They stood under the
hot, pounding water for a few moments before he pulled her close and
kissed her like he’d never stop.

“Oh, baby. I don’t know what I would have done if something had

happened to you today. You make all of this worthwhile. You have no
idea how important you are to me.”

Skye Michaels

He plundered her mouth a second time before he finally let her up

for air long enough to pick her up again as she wrapped her legs
around his waist. He surged into her tight sheath as lightning rocked
through her system, and he roughly nuzzled her neck. They both
struggled to breathe in the steam-heavy air. He seated his hard cock in
her hot pussy.

She felt the first shudder of ecstasy roll through her, and she lost

herself in the sensations of his mouth on her breasts and his dark
stubble rasping over her sensitive skin. He braced her up against the
shower wall and drove into her over and over with a pounding rhythm
until they both lost reason and were ready to explode. Finally, they
soared over the edge into exquisite pleasure. When his cock had
stopped pulsing in her pussy, he withdrew to let her stand on her own
legs. He laid his head in the crook of her shoulder, and she held him
as their heartbeats returned to normal.

“Are you okay?”
“I couldn’t be any more okay. If I was, I don’t think I could stand

up,” she murmured in his ear. He took the sea sponge, lathered it with
his spicy shower gel and washed her body, turning her around to soap
her back. She returned the favor, and they just stood and let the hot
water pound down on them.

* * * *

Melodie woke during night and missed the warm feeling of

Logan’s broad, hard chest against her back. Where was he? She
listened, but didn’t hear him in the apartment, and then she heard the
sound of a piano from the loft outside the apartment door. The sound
was magical. She felt as though she had left her body and was floating
over the bed. The sweet but sultry music invaded her soul.

She got up, pulled his shirt on, and walked out into the loft. She

saw him across the wide expanse of open space in a cone of light
shining down from the industrial ceiling onto the baby grand piano.

Melodie's Song

His long, straight black hair was spread over his naked shoulders. All
he wore was a pair of faded jeans.  She stood quietly in the shadows
and just listened. She had never heard him play the piano by himself.
The sound of the solo piece he was playing was mesmerizing.  His
fingers flew over the keyboard with a mystical touch.  She’d had no
idea of what a fine jazz pianist he actually was. He had talked about
wanting to be a piano man when the band’s popularity had crested
and they began to wind down, but she’d had no idea.

She walked over to the piano, sat down on the bench beside him

and just listened to the ethereal sound coming from the majestic
instrument through his beautiful, long-fingered hands. He must have
inherited this amazing talent from his mother.

When he finished and the piano went silent, she asked, “What

song is that? I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s one of mine. I wrote it for you. It’s called Melodie’s Song. I

was saving it for a special occasion.” He turned to her and ran his
long, talented fingers through the hair at her temple, brushing it back
and exposing the scar she no longer hid from him.

“I love you, baby. If Karin had hurt you today, I don’t know what

I would have done, how I could have gone on.” He paused and took a
deep breath.  “I can’t lose you  now.  It took too long for me to find
you.”  He pulled her into his arms for a soul-deep  kiss.  When he
released her mouth,  he continued.  “But  I think maybe it’s too
dangerous for us to be together right now. Maybe you should go visit
your parents in Phoenix for a while.”

“No way, Logan. You’ve made me come alive again. I can’t give

that up, go back to the half-life I was living before you came to me. I
won’t allow a crazy woman to steal what we have. You know, I’m
much stronger now than I’ve ever been. Your love has given me that.”
She smiled tentatively at him. “I love my song. This is the first time
I’ve heard you play jazz piano.”

Skye Michaels

“You know, Mel, I think I fell in love with you that day when I

had your pulse under my hands. That’s what I feel when I play this
piece—your life force in my hands.”

“Oh, Logan. You can’t know what that means to me.”
“If you won’t go to Phoenix, I’m calling Jack Brown in the

morning to see if we can go down to Florida early. I know the hotel
hasn’t actually opened yet, but maybe we can get out of town and just
leave this all behind. The band doesn’t have any commitments until
the tour in January. We’ll see. Let’s go back to bed.”

“Okay. I woke up when I missed feeling your warmth.”

* * * *

When they were back in the big, brass bed, Melodie sighed as

Logan pulled her into the cradle of his arms. His strong, muscular
chest was up against her back. She reveled in it—his strength, his
heat. She felt his cock stir against her bottom, and she wiggled back
against him in invitation. He raised her leg, and she felt his hand slip
down to explore the wetness between her thighs. It felt amazing.

He nibbled her ear and rubbed the heat of his solid erection

against her bottom, stretching the moment until he would take her
eager pussy again. She was hot and wet and couldn’t wait to feel his
full possession. He continued to tease her, rubbing his cock erotically
against her backside as her arousal escalated. He played with her wet
pussy and stroked her heated flesh with his rigid length. She was
becoming desperate to have him fill her.

Finally, when she thought she couldn’t endure his teasing another

moment, he thrust his hard cock deep into her and began rocking her
to oblivion. Small electric shocks tingled up her spine and to the tips
of her fingers and toes as he made her body soar. As she was losing
reason, he pounded into her hot, steamy channel, and she felt her
muscles convulse around his shaft. They both soared as his cock
pounded her, and her pussy pulsed with rippling waves of exquisite

Melodie's Song

pleasure. They floated down from the heights as their heartbeats
returned to normal, and they drifted contentedly back to sleep.

* * * *

The next morning, Logan went out into the loft to his office and

called Jack Brown in Florida. They had been friends and hung out at
Le Club together before the bachelor auction the year before.

“Hey, Jack. I hear from Barb that you’re tying the knot. Fell off

the bachelor train, did you?”

“Yeah. And I’m glad I did. What’s up with you? You’re on my

wedding list. Have you gotten your invitation yet?”

“No, not yet. I was going to ask if Melodie and I could crash your

wedding.”  He explained what had happened at the tree lighting the
day before. “I hope it’s not going to become news fodder, but I think
we need to get out of town.  My stalker—you may remember the
woman who won  the bid on me at the auction—is still on the loose.
I’m worried about Melodie.”

“So, Melodie is the woman who was stabbed on the street near

your loft a couple years ago?”

“Right. I finally got around to sucking it up and going to see her.

We’ve been together since last summer. I know she is the one, Jack. I
can’t let anything happen to her.”

“Well, if you can put up with the noise, mess, and workmen from

the last of the renovation construction, you’re welcome to come down
early. We have plenty of suites that are ready for occupancy, but the
finishing touches are still being put on the public areas. The pool and
outside are completely finished. We’re still working on the ballroom
conversion to a BDSM dungeon and finishing touches on the theme
rooms. We only have a skeleton wait and service staff on hand at
present.”

“That won’t bother us. I just want to get out of town quietly and

disappear for a while. I don’t want to have to register at a hotel that

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might give up the info. The Entertainment Tonight piece put both our
faces out there. I really couldn’t refuse the interview. Nobody much
recognized any of the band members before this. Our single and the
album are climbing up the charts, and the Rockefeller Plaza show put
us on the map with about eleven million viewers.”

“You might want to consider booking Jamie Devereau’s Golden

Dolphin cruise to Bermuda. I’m taking Kaylin as the first part of our
honeymoon. On New Year’s Day, we’ll be leaving again for a cruise
to Cozumel. I don’t know if you can spare that much time away, but
the Bermuda leg would be good. The security on that ship is as tight
as a flea’s ass. Nobody, and I mean nobody, gets aboard without the
proper identification. They have GPS tracking of all passengers and
crew, including the ship’s dog. Devereau is pretty amazing.”

“How is Jamie?”
“Ha. He’s married now. Who would have thought that would ever

happen? He just bought a house down here, and the ship’s homeport
has been moved to Port Everglades. We envision a lot of crossover
business between the hotel and the ship.”

“That sounds good. Let me talk to Melodie about it. She won’t

want to leave her gallery business for that long, but I’m going to pull
the Dom card and insist. Her safety is the most important thing. I
don’t think we’ve heard the last of Karin. She’s on the run.”

“Let me know what you want to do, and I’ll make the

arrangements on this end.”

* * * *

Melodie could tell by the look on Logan’s face that arguing with

him about the trip to Florida would be a waste of effort and might get
her a hot butt. He looked like a man on a mission.

“Well, I hadn’t planned to leave so soon, but I guess I can throw

some things in a bag, and we can go. I have to call Jasper and let him
know.”

Melodie's Song

“When Jasper finds out what’s happened, he’ll be here to pack

your bags.  Besides, they have stores in Florida.  We can pick up
whatever else you might need.  Jack is going to reserve us a suite on
the  Golden Dolphin  for a cruise to Bermuda,  beginning Christmas
day. The ship is reported to be super-luxurious, with BDSM facilities
and top-notch security. I think it’s just what we need.”

Logan drove Melodie back to her brownstone so she could begin

to pack. The insurance company had had Logan’s SUV repaired, and
he had just gotten it back.

“I’ll go online and see what airline reservations I can get. I’ll call

you later and let you know. Lock up and set your alarm, and please be
careful. I love you.”

“I love you, too. You be careful as well. I think she wants you

more than she wants me.” She kissed him and got out of the car, and
then he watched her enter the brownstone. She had to admit she was
nervously looking for Karin over her shoulder as well. Who knew
where she might be, or if she had followed her home over the last
months? It was all unknown, and truthfully, she was glad to be getting
out of town. A few weeks in Florida would be great.

She packed some of her summer clothes, bathing suits, and her

travel painting supplies, including paints and brushes. She could buy
canvases in Florida. They would be too bulky to transport. She did
have to be reasonable here.

* * * *

Karin was sitting in a fleabag motel in Queens. She’d run from the

scene, down the stairs into a subway station, and jumped on the first
train out of Dodge. That was close. What had she been thinking?
Sixth and Forty-Ninth outside Rockefeller Plaza on tree lighting
night?

She had seen the articles in Variety and Rolling Stone, so she

knew that Dark Place was on the program. She had waited patiently

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outside the stage door to see if she could catch one of them, but
preferably Logan. She would have loved to catch Logan. If she could
only get Logan alone and talk to him without him being able to just
get up and walk away from her, she could convince him that she was
the one for him.

She had been delighted when the bitch had come out on the

sidewalk.  She’d thought this was her  opportunity to get rid of her,
maybe snag her backstage pass, and be able to see Logan.  She had
been shocked when she’d seen the bitch face-to-face.  What was he
doing with that scarred mess  anyway?  She hadn’t noticed the scars
before, but then she really had not been up-close-and-personal with
her before.

Well, tomorrow was another day. She would have to be more

careful now. The police were probably looking for her. She couldn’t
afford to be seen. And, dammit, she’d lost her knife.

* * * *

Logan had made reservations for first-class flights and for a limo

to take them to the airport  on  Friday morning.  They wouldn’t be
returning until a few days after New Year’s, if all went well. He had
talked to Billie about the few things that still needed to be ironed out
for the tour.  He could handle it.  People didn’t take Billie seriously
enough, and frankly, that was his intention.  In addition to being a
first-class  keyboard man  and backup vocalist, he  had actually
graduated from college with a B.A. in Business Administration  and
had begun work on a Master’s before the band had started to take off.
He just didn’t want it known.

Now, Logan was helping to carry Melodie’s luggage out of the

brownstone to the limo at the curb. “What do you have in here?
Rocks?”

“No, smarty. Clothes, paints and brushes.” She gave him a coy

look. “And bathing suits.”

Melodie's Song

“Well, in that case—all-righty then.”
“I knew you’d see it my way.”
“Don’t forget where we’re going, subbie—BDSM hotel,

dungeons, theme rooms.  Don’t think that just  because I didn’t  bring
my toy bag that your butt is safe.”  He leaned down and kissed her
hard.  “All I need is my knee and the palm of my hand.”  Her eyes
popped wide, and he laughed. God, he was relieved to be getting out
of town.

* * * *

Karin had watched Logan come out of the loft with two suitcases

and get into the limo. It hadn’t taken her much more time to jog to
that bitch Melodie Buxton’s brownstone than it had taken the limo to
drive there. Well, she’d seen the piece on Entertainment Tonight
several times now, and she knew the bitch’s name.

She watched from down the street as luggage was brought out of

the brownstone and loaded into the trunk of the car. Clearly, they
were leaving town. How could she find out where they were going?
She wished she could get closer and possibly overhear their
conversation, but it wouldn’t do to get caught now. She had to make a
plan.

What if…she managed to get into the bitch’s gallery? She bet she

could find some travel itinerary or something there. Melodie’s pansy
assistant would probably know as well. She’d watch the gallery for an
opportunity. Maybe she could pose as a client, ask about the painting
in the window. Something.

Skye Michaels

Chapter Nine

In the Hawk-Buxton Suite at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort
Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Friday late morning, December 4, 2015

Melodie looked around in delight. The suite was very comfortable

and roomy, with beautiful new linens and furnishings. The view from
the balcony out to the beach was gorgeous,  and  the pool was
beautiful,  with a lazy river feature for floating on rafts and rubber
tubes through landscaped areas  and waterfalls.  Their  early-morning
flight from JFK had been uneventful, and they had caught a cab to the
hotel.  When they arrived, Melodie had overheard Logan calling the
detective they had talked to on Wednesday to let him know they
would be out of town and how to reach them.

“Have they found her yet?”
“No, but apparently a stolen dark-blue van that had been in a

collision and was abandoned in Queens around the date of our
accident has been located in the police impound lot. They are sending
a forensics team out to look it over for evidence.”

“Well, that’s something, anyway. I wish this were over. I hate

having it hanging over our heads. I feel like a refugee.” Then she
looked around the suite. “A very lucky refugee, I have to say.”

“Come here.” He waited patiently for her to get up and come to

him, and then he pulled her into his arms, gave her a tight hug, and
kissed her softly. “It will be fine. You’ll be safe here. We didn’t put
anything on the website about my being out of town. Let’s relax for a
little while and then take a look around. I want to find Jack if he’s

Melodie's Song

here and say thank you for letting us come down early. I know it’s an
inconvenience for his staff.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’d love to see the dungeon.”
“Me too, but it’s not open yet.”
“Oh. I guess we’ll have to play here, Master.”
“I guess we will, subbie.”

* * * *

Logan had a surprise for Melodie. He had not brought along his

big, very organized rolling toy bag, but he had packed a few of his
favorite toys for their enjoyment. And while the dungeon at the hotel
was not open yet, Jack had invited them to use the facilities at The
Black Iris Club in the penthouse of his office building downtown.
Barbara Brown had told him it was very well done and that the theme
rooms were exquisite. Also, there was an excellent restaurant on the
first floor of the building. He thought they’d go out for dinner tonight
and then take a trip upstairs.

“Look, Logan. Here is the booklet Dane was telling us about,

Black Dahlia Hotel Pleasure Club Rules. It explains the rubber
bracelet system to determine personal ‘hard limits’ that he mentioned
when he gave us our GPS bracelets.”

The manager, Dane Dunross, had explained the rubber bracelet

system when they arrived and told them that there was an explanatory
booklet in the suite.  He had explained that the wide, white bracelet
embossed with “The Black Dahlia Hotel” in gold letters contained
personal identification and permitted entry to the top floor where the
BDSM club was located as well as a GPS chip. For security purposes,
guests could be located at a moment’s notice.  The  GPS  system was
undergoing beta testing at the present time and was not fully
operational. He told them that they might be used as tracking subjects
to refine the system,  and  asked if they minded.  Logan had said of
course not, that they appreciated the early check-in.

Skye Michaels

Under the bracelet system, the Dominants—Doms or Dommes—

wore one black band. Subs wore green bands, and non-participants
wore red bands. The thin, brightly colored rubber bracelets worn on
the right wrist indicated to what extent staff or guests participated in
the sexual activities at the hotel.

The staff were not required to participate but were free to do so if

they wished. All staff and guests signed confidentiality agreements
before coming to work at the hotel or registering as guests. Since all
the public BDSM sexual activities took place on the top floor, which
was heavily secured, anyone accidently walking into the hotel would
have no idea of what went on there. The occasional walk-ins would be
told the hotel was fully booked. All in all, it looked like everything
was very well organized and controlled.

Melodie skimmed through the booklet. “The thinner colored

rubber bracelets signify different hard limits—green bands for no anal
play, red bands for no extreme whipping, purple bands for no extreme
bondage, orange bands for no fire play, yellow bands for no blood or
knife play, etcetera.” She shuddered. “Blood and knife play—
definitely not for me.”

She looked through the rest of the material in the envelope.

“There are two complete sets of bands and a list explaining all the
colors. That is very clever. A person could just put out there what they
like without having to be embarrassed.”

“A sub should never be embarrassed with her Dom. You’re not

embarrassed with me, are you?” He had been worried about that,
since she was so new to BDSM.

“No. Well, sometimes. But some subs might not know their Doms

before they get here.”

“That’s true. I understand some clubs book group packages that

may include singles. The guys would love this. Maybe we’ll do our
own group thing after the six-city tour is over.”

Melodie's Song

“Pansy would love it, too, but that’s mean, Logan.” She giggled.

“Would you really turn the terrible foursome loose on this
unsuspecting establishment?”

He grinned. “Sure. Baptism by fire. Although, Jack is being very

nice by letting us come in before the  grand  opening.  I’m looking
forward to meeting his fiancée.  Barb Brown doesn’t seem to be too
enthusiastic, but Jack is crazy about her.  If I remember, they had
broken up when we participated in Barb’s charity bachelor auction,
where I met Karin.”

“That right there is a good reason to never do that again. I am a

little scared of Barbara Brown, but I really like Ross. He and I always
have a ton of stuff to talk about.”

“So I noticed. And I think it got you a hot butt, too.”
“Well, that wasn’t fair. We were actually talking about the stock

market, and he gave me a couple of tips.”

“That cute little finger wave had nothing to do with stock tips.”

He knew his little green monster was poking his head out of his hole,
and he decided to change the subject. “How about a nice dinner out at
the steakhouse in Jack’s building? Morrison’s I think. And then we
can check out his club.”

He had already made dinner reservations and a theme room

reservation.  Barb had  recommended the French  theme room with a
bottle of chilled champagne and a tray of hors d’oeuvres.  That
sounded good to him, and he knew Melodie would love it.  It sure
didn’t hurt to insert a little romance into the proceedings. He grinned
to himself—along with the other insertions.

“That sounds good. Can we go down to the pool? I can’t wait to

get my December-chilled body laid out on a chaise in the sun.”

“Sure, babe. We’ll check in at the office on our way out and look

for Jack.”

They changed into bathing suits, Melodie packed a tote bag,

grabbed a cover-up, and they headed for the pool. Jack Brown was
just leaving to return to his office in the JDB Building, and they

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agreed to meet him and Kaylin for dinner at Morrison’s and then to go
up to The Black Iris Club together.

* * * *

Once they had claimed a comfy, dark-blue canvas double chaise

lounge and settled in next to the big, bright-blue pool, Logan rolled
Melodie over and kissed down the indention along her spine. Then he
gave the cute butt that was barely covered by her bikini bottoms a
friendly smack. “Let me put sunscreen on your back. I’d hate for you
to get a sunburn the first day.” He began to massage the sweet-
smelling lotion into her warm skin.

“Mmmm. Thanks, Logan. That feels good.” When he had

finished, she said, “Let me return the favor.”

He lay back and rolled over. She straddled his lower back and

began massaging the slick oil into his skin.  He felt the warmth from
her center against the small of his back. The feeling of moist heat was
very erotic.  If they hadn’t been on the pool deck  with construction
workers walking in and out of the building, he would have flipped her
over, stripped her naked, and had his wicked way with her. She never
failed to get his engine revving, and it was usually jump-started by the
simplest thing—a  look, a touch, her melodious giggle.  She was
endlessly fascinating to him.

After they had baked in the hot sun for a while, he got up, pulled

her from the chaise and walked to the edge of the pool. He picked her
up in his arms and stepped off the edge. He had expected the water to
at least be cool, but it was as warm as a womb, although the air and
brisk breeze were a welcome contrast. When he was standing against
the pool coping and her legs were wrapped around his waist, he
brought his mouth down on hers. The kiss was soft and tentative, but
when she put her arms around his neck and plastered her wet breasts
against his chest, it heated up. He wouldn’t be surprised to see steam
rising off their skin.

Melodie's Song

“What do you say we go back to the suite for a little nap?” He

grinned.

“Good idea.”

* * * *

Karin stood around the corner from Paint Splatters, watching the

front entrance.  She had checked out the back entrance off the alley,
but it was secured by a locked steel door  that wouldn’t be easy to
open. That was where deliveries were made, and there was a buzzer to
ring for admittance.  If all else failed, she could ring the buzzer and
push her way in. The gay guy was tall but not particularly big, and she
didn’t think he would be much of an obstacle.

It was almost noon. She was hoping the guy in the gallery would

run out for lunch. He was alone. Maybe he wouldn’t take the time to
set the alarm if he was just running to the deli down the street.  She
might get an opportunity to get inside and look around.  She had to
find out where Logan and the bitch had gone.  Being separated from
him like this was upsetting and disorienting. She didn’t like it. He was
her soul mate, whether he knew it or not.

Ahh. All good things come to those who wait. The tall guy with

straight blond hair and blue eyes wearing pressed  blue jeans—for
God’s sake—and a navy-blue pea coat over a light-blue,  striped
button-down shirt stepped out of the gallery.  He flipped the sign on
the door to “We’ll be back in 15 minutes,” locked the door and
walked up the street toward the deli.

As soon as his back was to the shop, Karin stepped up to the door,

inserted a steel jimmy, and popped the door open. It was amazing
what skills a girl learned in a misspent youth in juvie. She slipped into
the shop, pulled the blind down on the door, and immediately went to
the front desk. She began to rifle through the paperwork on the top of
the desk. Ah, a calendar. The days from today’s date through New
Year’s Day were marked off in red with the notation, “Mel in FtL-

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Black Dahlia Hotel.” That was exactly what she had been looking for.
They were at the Black Dahlia Hotel in Fort Lauderdale. How nice for
them. She hoped they got sand up their…

Karin left the calendar on the desk where she had found it and

headed back toward the door. Shit! The gay guy was walking up to
the door with a brown bag in his hand.

* * * *

Jasper inserted his key and pushed the door open. I didn’t close

these blinds when I left. He spotted a dark-haired woman wearing all
black coming at him fast. She was kind of disheveled and scary-
looking—sort of Goth. She pushed him roughly aside and bolted out
the front door, leaving it open behind her.

“Hey! What are you doing in here?”
He was sure no one had been in the gallery when he’d left. He was

sure. Had he checked? Maybe he had, maybe he hadn’t. He couldn’t
remember. Sometimes browsers came in to look around when he was
in the back crating or uncrating paintings and sculptures. His hands
were shaking from the shock of finding someone where they weren’t
supposed to be.

His stomach was jumping while he took a quick look around, but

nothing appeared to be missing or disturbed. She had startled him.
That was all. What the hell had that been about? Should he let
Melodie know? He didn’t want to upset her, and he sure didn’t want
to interrupt her impromptu vacation in Florida with Logan.

Logan Hawk was the best thing that had ever happened to

Melodie, and he was delighted that the big guy had been able to crack
her protective shell and work his way inside—no easy task.  Shit.
What to do? Make a police report? Nothing had been taken. What was
he going to report? That someone had been in the shop when he came
back with his lunch?  He would call Max and see what he thought.
Hopefully  Dr. Delicious was in the cafeteria having lunch.  Max’s

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101

stomach was as regular as a clock. Unless he had a patient in the ER,
he was never late for a meal. He reached in his jeans pocket for his
cell phone and dialed.

“Hi, handsome. Whatcha doin’?”
“Eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria. It’s lasagna today, and not

too bad.”

Jasper filled Max in on what he had found when he got back from

his deli run.

“Calm down, Jasper. Let me think a minute. Well, if nothing is

missing…”  Jasper could almost see the adorable wrinkles on his
forehead while he thought the situation out logically.  He loved that
about Max.  “You  could call the detectives who are  investigating the
attempted knife attack on Melodie outside Rockefeller Plaza.”

“Good idea. I think their cards are on the desk. Yes. That’s what

I’ll  do.  They’ll  know if Melodie should  be notified or not.  Thanks,
babe.”  Jasper disconnected and dug through the loose papers and
calendar on the top of the desk until he found the cards he knew were
there—Detective Marcus Levin  and Detective Rosalie Torres.  He
dialed Detective Levin’s mobile number.

“Detective, this is Jasper Winter, the manager of the Paint

Splatters Gallery. I work for Melodie Buxton. I believe you know that
she’s out of town. I don’t know if this is anything to worry about, but
there was an unauthorized person in the gallery when I got back from
picking up my lunch order. I was only gone a few minutes since I’m
alone in the store right now. Nothing appears to be missing, but I
thought I should let you know in light of recent events.”

“What did this person look like?”
“Dark hair, kind of Goth, a little disheveled, but she didn’t look

homeless.”

“I’ll email you a picture of Karin Sanders, Ms. Buxton’s attacker.

Tell me if it’s her.”

A moment later, an incoming text beeped on his phone. He looked

at the picture. “Yes, that’s the person who was in the gallery when I

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Skye Michaels

got back. The door was unlocked and the blinds were down. I know I
locked the door and did not pull the blinds. Nothing else appears to
have been disturbed.”

“I’ll have a couple of units cruise the neighborhood and look for

her. My partner and I will stop by and take a look around—probably
in about an hour. Try not to touch anything, like the doorjamb or door
knob. We’ve had an APB out for her, but nothing has turned up at her
job or apartment so far. We don’t know if she has any friends or
family she might be able to stay with.”

“Well, I already touched the door knob when I came back into the

gallery, but I won’t touch anything else. Should I let Melodie know? I
hate to upset her if I don’t have to.”

“Wait until we take a look around before you call her. It may not

be necessary.”

* * * *

Detective Rosalie Torres and her partner, Marcus Levin, parked

their unmarked squad car in front of the Paint Splatters Gallery. The
gallery was on an attractive street with lots of foot traffic—a good
location for an art gallery. As they approached the front door, Rosalie
admired the large abstract painting in the window. It was signed “M.
Buxton.”

So, Melodie Buxton was an artist as well as gallery owner. She

usually didn’t go for abstracts, but this one touched something in her.
There was something about the disrupted tranquility portrayed by the
swirls of bright red through the pastels. Perhaps it had to do with the
scar on Melodie’s face. She’d pulled her hair forward to cover it, but
Rosalie has seen the jagged, still-slightly-red evidence of a knife
wound. She would have to check that out. It had not been mentioned
during their interview at Rockefeller Plaza.

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103

“Hey, Marc. Look at these jimmy marks on the doorframe.

They’re not deep, but they are new. Guess that’s how she got in.”
They walked into the gallery.

“Detectives, I presume. Jasper Winter, manager of the gallery.”
“Well, Mr. Winter, you didn’t leave the store with someone

inside, as you thought. Those jimmy marks on the doorjamb are fresh.
What’s a little breaking and entering when you’re already on the run
from assault with a deadly weapon or attempted kidnapping?” Marcus
Levin was known for his sarcastic comments.

“You’re sure nothing is missing?” Rosalie looked around the

open, light, and spacious gallery space.

“No. The desk is a mess, but it always looks like that. We don’t

keep any cash in the store. I was planning to do some filing and clean
up while Melodie is out of town.”

Rosalie walked over to the desk and looked it over. She picked up

the calendar and read the notations. “Was this calendar out in the open
like this?”

“Yes. Everything is as it was, Detective.”
“Then it is possible Sanders saw this notation of where Ms.

Buxton is staying in Florida?”

“Uh…I guess so. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You should let Ms. Buxton know what happened. It’s possible

that Karin Sanders knows where she and Mr. Hawk are staying.”

As soon as the detectives left the gallery, Jasper picked up his cell

phone and dialed Melodie.

* * * *

Melodie rolled over and picked up her ringing cell phone from the

bedside table. She glanced at the display. Jasper already? She’d just
seen him that morning when she stopped by the gallery on their way
to the airport.

“Hi, Jasper. What’s up?”

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“Mel? I’m sorry to be the bearer of possibly bad tidings, but that

Karin person broke into the gallery when I went out to pick up my
lunch. It’s possible she saw the calendar with the notation of where
you and Logan are staying.”

“You have to be kidding. She is a one-woman plague—the Black

Death of Tribeca.” She turned to Logan, who was leaning on one
elbow next to her in bed. “Karin broke into the gallery. Jasper thinks
she may have seen the calendar on the desk and knows where we are
staying.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. You’re right. She is a one-woman plague.

I’ll let security know to be on the lookout for her.”

“Jasper, thanks for calling. I’ll talk to you in a few days. Be

careful. Maybe you should keep the doors locked. If customers come
by, you can just let them in.”

“Okay, Melodie. I just wanted you to have a heads-up on a

possible problem. Be careful. Love you, honey.”

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105

Chapter Ten

At Morrison’s Steakhouse in the JDB Building, Downtown Fort
Lauderdale, Florida, Friday evening, December 4, 2015

Logan was still smiling. Before they’d left the suite, Melodie had

told him he looked handsome in the dress slacks, crisp white shirt,
and sports jacket he’d put on for their dinner out. It was true that she
had rarely seen him in anything but dark jeans and T-shirts or
dungeon leathers. He would have to make an effort to clean up for her
more often. He liked hearing he looked handsome. Now Melodie
looked fabulous in a sleek little black dress that hit above her knees,
with what looked like very expensive “fuck me” black pumps and a
little black clutch handbag.

Logan and Melodie met Jack Dalton Brown and Kaylin Gallagher

in the reception area of Morrison’s Steakhouse. Jack was a big,
handsome guy who had been a well-known bachelor, businessman,
and philanthropist around town, both in Fort Lauderdale and New
York for years. Now the adorable Kaylin Gallagher had put an end to
that scenario.

Logan shook hands with Jack and then bent down to kiss Kaylin’s

cheek. Logan could see why Jack had been attracted to her in the first
place. Her sun-streaked brown, wavy hair brushed her shoulders, and
she had  sparkling blue eyes and  a suggestion of cinnamon freckles
across her nose and cheeks that stood out against her fair Irish skin.
She had a bit of a tan and a great body that did not reach the
Victoria’s Secret level,  but was very nice nonetheless.  She wasn’t
flashy, and she didn’t wear too much makeup.  She just had clean,

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healthy good looks. Add to that the fact that she was a very adept—
and apparently tough—Broward County Sheriff’s Office homicide
detective. She was quite a package—and a handful for Jack.

“Good to see you, Jack, and very nice to meet you, Kaylin. This is

Melodie Buxton.” He didn’t know what to say next, how to describe
his relationship with Melodie. Saying she was his woman, his sub,
seemed a little presumptuous. Saying nothing seemed rude. He hadn’t
quite figured it out himself. All he knew was that he loved her, and
had since that day on the sidewalk when it had seemed he held her
soul in his hands. He knew that was an exaggeration, but that’s what it
had felt like.

The ever-diplomatic Jack Brown stepped in. “Barb tells me you

guys have been together since the summer. That’s great. Melodie, I’ve
been waiting for someone to scoop this guy up.”

Kaylin punched Jack in the arm. “Jack! You’re going to embarrass

Melodie.” She turned to Melodie and reached over to give her a hug
and cheek kiss. “Don’t mind Jack. Sometimes…” She shook her head.

“No problem. Logan and I have been…dating…since July, but

actually, we met a couple of years ago under rather unusual
circumstances.”

“I’ll want the full scoop on that later.” Kaylin was grinning, and

curiosity oozed from her. Yeah, Jack had his hands full.

When they were seated at a secluded table in the back of the

restaurant, Logan looked around. Traditional décor, expensive-
looking. “Nice place. Looks like it’s been here a while.”

“Yeah. It was here when I bought the building. It’s handy. Since

I’m their landlord, I can always get a table, and they deliver to my
office or apartment.”

Their waiter interrupted the conversation, and when drink and

appetizer orders had been taken, Kaylin piped in. “You’ll have to
come up to the apartment for dinner. The roof garden in the penthouse
is fabulous.”

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“Really? Jack has a roof garden? So does Logan. I love it. Only,

it’s not really a penthouse. I don’t know how many floors you need to
earn that distinction. Logan’s loft is on the fourth floor so, technically,
that would make the roof the fifth, I guess.”

“Jack’s penthouse is on twenty, along with the club. The view

over the city is spectacular.”

Logan could see that Jack was getting a little uncomfortable.

“Well, we’re going up to the club after dinner, and we’ll be here for a
few weeks. So, the wedding is on Christmas Eve?”

“I’m a little nervous about that. All Jack’s relatives are coming

from New York. I don’t want to come off like a poor country cousin.
Fort Lauderdale is really a small town, after all.”

“Oh, Kaylin. I don’t think you have anything to worry about there.

The hotel is fabulous, and  I’m sure the wedding will be as well.  All
those  fancy  New Yorkers are slogging around in snow and freezing
their toes off.” Despite being a little nervous herself, Melodie always
strove to make the other person comfortable.  That was one of the
things he loved about her. Her misfortune and the scar had not driven
her so far into herself that she didn’t feel for other people.

“You’re right about that.” Kaylin was smiling now. “Actually,

they’re freezing their butts off.”

Jack said, “So what’s up with your little Karin Sanders problem? I

hope you don’t mind, but I told Kaylin about it.” Jack frowned. “I
remember her from the auction. She seemed a little odd then—black
clothes, Goth makeup. But, you know, BDSM club and all, I didn’t
give it much thought.”

“Unfortunately, neither did I. I had no idea she was a stalker until

it was too late to shake her. We only had one scene, and I took her out
to dinner one time.  I eventually got a restraining order, but she’s
always outside the loft  or  following me.  I don’t know when she has
time to work or earn a living.  Then the night of the tree lighting in
Rockefeller Plaza, she accosted Melodie on the street with a knife.

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And now, she broke into Melodie’s gallery, and we think she may
know where we are.”

“You’re kidding. You hadn’t told me about a break-in.”
“It just happened today. Mel’s manager called the police and then

let us know. Nothing was stolen or damaged. She was just in the
gallery when he came back from picking up lunch. She shoved by him
and ran out.”

Kaylin was in cop mode. “Why do you think she knows where

you are?”

Melodie answered, “I had marked the calendar on the front desk

for Jasper, my manager, and I’d put down the name of the hotel and
Fort Lauderdale so he could contact me if he needed to. We’re not
sure she saw it, but she could have. Why else would she have broken
in?”

“Stalkers can be very dangerous. It’s more than a crush or

something.  It’s an unhealthy obsession.  I know.  I had a serial killer
break into my house.”  She shuddered.  Apparently,  the memory was
still fresh.  “If my partner, Del, hadn’t had the house staked out  on a
hunch, I probably wouldn’t be here.”  Jack reached  over,  rubbed the
back of her neck and then held her hand.

“I blame myself for that. We’d had an argument, and I let her go

home alone.”

“We have discussed this, Jack. I went home alone other times. We

had no reason to think Alan Baker had been watching me. It wasn’t
your fault, and you promised me that you’d let it go. Anyway, he was
convicted of murdering four women and now resides on Death Row.”

“I know, babe. Sometimes I just can’t let it go. It still gives me

nightmares.”

Kaylin turned to Melodie. “So, Melodie, how did you meet

Logan?” Her eyes were sparkling, and Logan knew an inveterate
romantic when he saw one.

“He’s my guardian angel. I might not be here, if not for him. I was

attacked on the street near my gallery about two years ago. A

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homeless man slashed my face. Logan stopped to help me. He tried to
stop the bleeding until the ambulance came and took me away. I never
knew his name or how to thank him. Last summer he came into the
gallery to talk to me, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“I was just in the right place at the right time. I have to admit, I’d

had my eye on Melodie for a while before that, but hadn’t approached
her yet.”

Melodie grinned. “Yeah, I remember seeing him on the street.

He’s a little slow on the uptake, but when he gets going, he’s fast.”

“We’ll see how fast I am when we get upstairs later, subbie.”
Jack said, “To get back to the subject at hand. You need to talk to

the security guys onsite  at the hotel,  and don’t remove the white
bracelets under any circumstances. Security at the hotel is going to be
very tight. It’s not fully operational yet, but the GPS system is being
tested.  The security aboard Jamie’s yacht, the Golden Dolphin,  is
even tighter. He has a team of ex-SEALS and such that are stewards
and also provide an armed security force for the boat. That’s where I
got the idea for the GPS bracelets and also the colored bracelet system
for the club.  The boat is amazing—over three hundred feet and five
decks.  She can accommodate thirty-six passengers and a crew of
twenty-one. You’re going to love the cruise to Bermuda.”

“Not that you’ll see much of us. Honeymoon and all.” Kaylin was

obviously excited about the wedding and the honeymoon. “But
seriously, maybe you should talk to my friend, Chloe Carlton, about
your stalker. She’s with the Strategic Investigation Division. I’m a
homicide detective, and we sure don’t want to see this situation get to
my division. I wouldn’t brush this off. It could be very serious.”

Logan nodded his head. “I’ll make a point to advise Dane and talk

to your security team tomorrow. I sure don’t want to brush it off,
either. If you think we need to bring the police in, I can give you the
contact information for the detectives in New York who are handling
the case.”

“Maybe we should talk to them.”

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The steaks were superb, and after finishing a bottle of excellent

wine, Jack ushered the group to the elevator. He swiped his key card
and the elevator zoomed up to the penthouse at warp speed. He
repeated the procedure at the carved, mahogany double doors that
opened into the club. There was a discreet brass sign next to the
double doors that read, “The Black Iris Club—Private.”

* * * *

Melodie watched with interest as Jack swiped his card again and

put his hand to the palm plate outside the heavy mahogany double
doors.  There was a ton of security, just like at Le Club Eastside.  He
opened the doors and they walked into the elegant foyer. There was a
stunning original Georgia O’Keeffe painting on the wall over the
mahogany  reception desk.  The  floral  painting was done in black,
white and vivid pink,  and  resembled a woman’s sexual organs, a
theme that O’Keeffe was known for.

Melodie exclaimed, “Jack! I love your O’Keeffe—very

appropriate for a club of this nature.”

There was an intimate seating area, and the desk was flanked but

rows of computer screens. Apparently, the entire club was covered by
surveillance cameras.

The receptionist had the requisite confidentiality documents ready

for signature. After taking care of business, Jack swiped his key card
again, and he led them through another set of double doors into a
huge room with dark-red walls.

“The windows are covered with a film that lets in light but keeps

out prying eyes. We do take the confidentiality aspect very seriously.
You would think that being twenty floors up would take care of that
problem, but once, an enterprising paparazzo got a picture of me
skinny-dipping in my rooftop pool and it ended up in the Enquirer.”

Melodie giggled. “Did that stop you from skinny-dipping?”
“Hell, no. I just glance around for hovering helicopters first.”

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Melodie glanced around herself, and she was shocked to see the

selection of equipment spread out over the room.  Each separate area
was  lighted by overhead spotlights.  She had seen most of  this
equipment  in Logan’s dungeon and at Le Club Eastside, but it was
still impressive.

Logan took her hand and turned to Jack. “We have a reservation

for the French Room, so point us in the right direction, and maybe
we’ll see you later.”

“Across the dungeon and down that hallway. Your key card will

open the door. Enjoy. See you later. My sub and I have plans as well.”

Melanie gripped Logan’s hand. She was a little nervous in the

very elegant and intimidating club. The Le Club facility was very
nice, but this was several steps up.

* * * *

In the French Room in The Black Iris Club in the penthouse of the
JDB Building in Downtown Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Friday night,
December 4, 2015

Melodie was curious as Logan took her arm and led her down a

corridor containing several locked doors.  He swiped a plastic I.D.
card through the reader and opened one of the doors. They walked in,
and she looked around in delight.  The decadent, French-inspired
boudoir was gorgeous—tasteful  and sensuous.  The bed was well-
dressed with linens of  red-and-gold silk brocade.  Elaborate French-
style mirrors were centered on three of the walls to frame the scene.
There was a smaller version of a St. Andrew’s Cross  in the corner
with a set of hanging chains, a spanking bench and a luxurious, soft,
leather-covered French-style chaise lounge in one of the corners.  A
bottle of champagne in an ice bucket rested on a carved credenza near
the door, next to a platter of chocolate-covered strawberries.

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* * * *

Logan pulled her into his arms and said, “You know the drill,

subbie.” His deep Dom voice rumbled. He could see the effect he had
on her, and it never failed to make him smile and his cock harden in
anticipation.

“Yes, Sir.” She hastened to obey and removed her clothes, put

them in the armoire, and put on her wrist and ankle cuffs. She was
quickly buck-naked and in the slave position in the center of the
room.

Logan pulled her up and into his arms. He kissed her roughly. His

tongue explored her mouth while his hands explored her breasts and
fabulous ass. As always, she melted against him helplessly. He loved
how responsive she was, but he hoped she was responding more to
him than the ambiance of the BDSM theme room. He looked around
to see if there was something new and different—something they
hadn’t done yet. Then he saw it. In a cubby behind the armoire was a
wooden board with spring clasps. It was meant to be attached to the
hanging chains to form a swing. Perfect.

Logan secured Melodie’s cuffed wrists to the chains hanging from

the ceiling and then secured her ankles to bolts in the floor with legs
spread. He stood watching her. He could see the nerves jittering in her
muscles as she looked at the whip in his hand.  He had never used a
whip on her before, and the four-foot  dragon-tail whip was scary-
looking. His muscled arms were crossed over his broad chest, and he
knew his dominant posture would heighten her tension and her
pleasure.  He  strode around her, trailing the flexible, petal-shaped tip
of the whip on the floor. He inspected her naked body from all angles.

“Very nice, sub. I think you are going to enjoy meeting Mr.

Dragon, here.” He ran his big hands up and down her spine and over
her butt, kneading and massaging the muscles to warm them. Without
warning, he cracked the whip, and she flinched. She was nervous.

“Are you ready for your punishment, sub?” he asked. “You will

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receive five strikes for disobedience.”

“Yes, Master. I am sorry, Master,” she said submissively. He

continued to circle her naked form, letting the tension build
ominously.

When the first strike of the dragon-tail whip kissed her right

cheek, she cried out in surprise. She clearly had been expecting a
sharp pain. Instead, the butterfly kiss of the whip’s tip barely touched
her skin. She looked at him in surprise, and then she smiled that wide-
open smile he loved. “I knew I could trust you and that this was all
just for the drama, to make me think you were going to whip me.”

“I do not believe I gave you permission to speak, sub. You are not

to try to analyze the Master, and don’t forget, no coming until I say
so.”

The other strikes nipped across her butt in little sharp, stinging

kisses, and she gasped. By the time the punishment was over, Logan
could see that the tension and expectation of pain had brought her to
the verge of a massive orgasm. Endorphins pumped through her
system, and she gasped for air and tried to regain control of herself.

“Sub, you may not come. Hold it until I give my permission,” he

warned.  Forcing her to wait for her pleasure added an edge to the
experience.  He released her bindings.  He moved her aside as he
attached the wide wooden seat, with the cutout for access to male or
female genitalia, to the stout chains hanging from the ceiling. Then he
picked her up and set her butt on the seat of the swing. He settled her,
bound her arms  above her head, and raised  the seat so  her pussy
would be level with his engorged cock.

He walked to the armoire and looked inside. He was sure there

would be a supply of natural hemp bondage rope. He took several
lengths of the soft rope and walked back to the swing. All the while,
her eyes had never left him. He tied an intricate design of knots
binding her to the swing like a butterfly in a cocoon, the thin, silky
dark-blue bondage rope crisscrossing over her bare skin. He loved the
act of tying the complex knots. It was a symbolic binding of her soul

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to his.  The beauty lay in the arrangement of the knots against her
silky-smooth skin.  Melodie was breathless as she looked deep into
Logan’s eyes.  That was technically not correct protocol, but he
wanted her to see what was in his heart, his soul. She was the center
of everything for him.

She leaned back and spread her legs on the swing seat. She

opened her drenched pussy to his gaze, and he pushed the swing into
motion. Logan lowered the zipper of his slacks, freeing his erection.
He stepped into the arc of the swing and imbedded his hard cock in
her hot pussy up to the hilt as she screamed out her pleasure.

“Oh, Master,” she gasped.
Logan let the swing do the work, stroking his cock in and out of

her wet, silky pussy again and again, and increasing the pace and
depth of penetration until he could no longer hold back. His cock
throbbed with his heartbeat.

His order of “Come now, Melodie,” was perfectly timed as she

reached her final barrier. She rolled into a stunning orgasm that
crashed through her system, and he followed her over the brink with a
shout of triumph as his own completion ripped through his system.
With his cock still hard within her, he let the motion of the swing
continue the stroking as its momentum slowed and each of them came
again.

As the frantic beating of their hearts slowed, he brushed the hair

back from her face and gently kissed the scar at her temple. He lifted
her naked body into his arms and carried her to the bed in the corner.

* * * *

Melodie was breathless. When he had stripped out of his clothes

and lay down beside her on the bed, she opened her arms to accept
him—accept him fully into her heart. She knew she had been
harboring a small corner of doubt. The scar on her face had done deep

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damage to her self-confidence, but now she knew she could trust him
with all she was.

Logan drew the silk sheet and blanket over them, and cuddled her

up against his chest. She laid her head against his chest, and she fully
relaxed for the first time since they had arrived. Karin Sanders was
forgotten for the moment as she gloried in the strength and safety of
Logan’s arms. She sighed. The look in his eyes and on his hawk-like
face made her pussy flutter. He always had that effect on her. She just
never seemed to become immune to him. She suddenly knew what
she wanted to do with this quiet vacation time. She was going to paint
Logan. She could already see the work in her head. She felt her eyes
grow heavy, and she drifted into a light sleep.

* * * *

Logan loved to hold a sleeping Melodie, knowing that she was

dozing and not unconscious. That small fact made all the difference.

He had to settle this Karin Sanders situation. Having Melodie in

danger again for any reason, especially one that was his fault, was
unacceptable.  He was beginning to think that some of his ancestors
had the right idea about how to deal with problems—on both sides of
the DNA chain.  Those Irishmen could be fierce as well.  He didn’t
want to go there, but he wouldn’t stand by and allow Melodie to be
victimized again.  Karin would have to go through him to get to her
this time.  He hoped Jack’s security people would be able to offer a
solution.

When Melodie began to stir, Logan saw her eyelids flutter open

and said, “Wake up, sleepyhead. We’ve got champagne and
strawberries for dessert.”

“Oh, yum! That’s my favorite.”
He got up, went to the credenza near the door and took the chilled

bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. He expertly popped the
cork, and without spilling a drop, he filled the two flutes. He brought

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the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries to the bed and then
returned for the two glasses. He handed one to Melodie, clinked rims,
and said, “Here’s to us. I love you, baby. We’ll get through this.”

“I know we will, Logan. We can depend on each other.”
“That’s right, Melodie. I hope you know you can always depend

on me. I’ve felt that we belonged together since that day on the
sidewalk. Feeling your pulse under my hands and having your blood
running through my fingers was life-altering.”

“You know, Logan, even though I was unconscious, I felt you

there with me. I knew I wasn’t alone. It meant so much. I tried to find
out your name, but the EMTs didn’t know who you were, and the
police wouldn’t release the information because you were a possible
witness.”

“I wanted to come into the gallery so many times, but I didn’t

want to intrude. I could see how you turned away from people. I
wanted to give you the time you needed to heal, and then when I saw
your painting, I knew I had to take a chance. I’m going to take
another chance now, Melodie, because I’m not sure you’re ready.
Baby, I want us to get married. I don’t want to wait. Life is uncertain,
and I don’t want to waste a minute of it.”

“Logan…” The surprise was evident on her face. She clearly

hadn’t been expecting this.

“If you’re going to say no, I’d rather you just waited and gave it

some thought.”

“Logan, I wasn’t going to say no, but are you sure? Can you look

at this scarred face every day for the rest of your life?”

“Melody, I can look at your beautiful face every day for the rest of

my life.” He tossed the covers aside and pulled her out of bed and
over to one of the ornate mirrors on the wall. He pulled her hair back
and held it in one hand while he turned the scarred side of her face
toward the mirror and forced her to look.

“Look. Take a good look for once. Your scars are not as fucking

bad as you think they are. Your avoidance has built something up in

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your mind that is simply not there. And frankly, I wouldn’t care if it
looked as bad as it did that day. I love you. Yes, I love your beautiful
face and body, but I love your strong spirit and loving heart more.”

“Oh, Logan.” Tears began to leak from her eyes and down over

her cheeks. “That is so beautiful.”

“No. You are beautiful. We’re standing in front of this mirror until

you acknowledge that fact, until you accept it bone-deep.  A little
puckered skin, a small flaw, does not define you.  I didn’t plan on
asking you to marry me today, so I don’t have a ring. There will be a
ring. We’ll pick it out together. But for now, I want you to wear this
bracelet. It belonged to my Apache grandmother. The silver work was
added later to protect the delicate antique beading work.” He handed
her a beautifully made,  heavy silver cuff bracelet  with an intricate
geometric pattern of tiny beads of colored glass  in the middle.  The
pattern was protected by a design of overlapping  silver  leaves and
flowers.  “It has been passed down in my family for over a hundred
years.  I was planning to give it to you today, though  not as an
engagement present. But for now, it will have to do.”

“Logan, it’s beautiful.” He put it on her left wrist.
“I don’t want a long engagement, Melodie, so start thinking about

what you want for a wedding ceremony.”

She turned and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you,

Logan. I’ve been sure of it for a while. I’m glad you feel the same
way.”

“I’ve loved you for over two years, Melodie.” He turned her back

to the mirror. “I wasn’t kidding. We’re going to stand her until you
figure this out, woman. I hope you don’t need a spanking to help it
sink in. I really don’t want to do that today.”

“You know, I think you might be right.” She stared at her face in

the mirror, and she rested her weight back against his chest. “It isn’t
as red as it was. I hadn’t really looked at it in quite a while.”
Obviously, the possibility of a spanking right now got her attention.

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“You think? If I were you, I’d rephrase that. I am right. Hopefully

this next surgery will be the last one you need. If not, you’ll have
another one. What does your doctor say?”

“He says the same thing. I just didn’t want to count on it, to be

disappointed again.  You can’t know how it felt to wake up in the
hospital and know I had a knife scar on my face.  I don’t think I’ve
ever confronted my feelings  full on before.  I was afraid of what the
result would be.”

“Oh, baby. I know it’s a woman thing. But you’re my woman—

my beautiful woman—and I want you to accept that fact.”

She looked up at him through her long eyelashes. “Do I get an

Indian name?”

“Yeah. How about ‘Princess Pain-in-the-Butt’? I’ll call my

grandfather and find out how to say that in Apache. That phrase has
never come up in conversation before.”

“How do you say ‘big mouth’ again? Es ka min zim, was it?”

* * * *

Melodie shrieked as he picked her up and tossed her over his

shoulder. He landed two good, sharp smacks on her bare butt before
he dropped her back on the bed and came down on top of her. “Now
you’re in trouble.” He kissed her hard. She still felt the sting of his
hand on her butt. God, she loved that. She loved Logan.

She sighed as he entered her hard and fast. Slow and easy was

lovely, but hard and fast was the best. He took her over the moon
again.

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Chapter Eleven

In the administrative offices at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort
Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Saturday morning, December 5, 2015

Logan and Melodie met Jack Brown, Jamie Devereau and Dane

Dunross  in the admin  offices on Saturday morning.  Dane had his
secretary bring in coffee and a pastry platter from the kitchen.  Dane
sat behind his desk, and Logan and Melodie sat in chairs in front of
the desk.  Jack and Jamie were standing by the tall windows
overlooking the beach.

“I understand that Jack knows what’s going on with you two.

Please fill me and Jamie in.”

Logan cleared his throat and told the same story he’d told Jack the

night before. Melodie sat quietly, sipping her coffee.

Dane asked, “Melodie, have you heard anything more from your

manager or the police?”

“No. Jasper would have called me if he had seen Karin again.”
“This is disturbing. The security here is going to be pretty tight,

but guests will be here to have a good time not have their every move
monitored. The only place in the hotel that is actually impervious to
an unauthorized entry is the tenth floor where the dungeon and theme
rooms are located. If a situation occurs, head upstairs immediately. As
you know, the security system is currently being tested. You both
should wear your white bracelets at all times. Don’t worry about
taking them off to swim or shower. They are waterproof. And if they
aren’t, we want to know about it. I’m going to have security keep an
eye on your signals at all times. Also, keep your charged cell phones

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with you at all times. We need to be able to communicate with you if
something looks off.” He looked to Jack and Jamie. “Anything to add,
gentlemen?” Jack shook his head.

Jamie said, “We’ll do our best to keep you safe here. If it becomes

necessary,  you can both be moved to the Golden Dolphin,  which is
currently in port. If you have any reason to believe your stalker is in
town, if she’s spotted in the area, do not hesitate to let us know. The
security team aboard are all ex-special forces and black belts, and the
ship is armed.  Sometimes we pass through unsavory areas on
voyages.  The ship is a very visible, expensive target with wealthy
passengers aboard, so we have to be prepared  for any eventuality.
Don’t hesitate to take advantage of that security. Some of the team is
on shore leave, along with a rotating schedule of the rest of the crew,
but we can accommodate you if necessary.”

Logan stood and shook hands all around. “Thank you. I’ll do

whatever is necessary to keep Melodie safe. I think she is in more
danger from Karin Sanders than I am. Karin wants me. She wants
Melodie out of the way.” Then he grinned. “And by the way, we got
engaged in your French Room last night, Jack.”

“Congratulations. Kaylin will be thrilled.” Jack was obviously

happy for them. “She is sure you two are perfect for each other. I
happen to agree.” He leaned over and kissed Melodie’s cheek. “Much
happiness, Melodie. I have every confidence you can keep this wild
Apache warrior in line.”

Dane stood up as well. “Let me show you the security office and

introduce you to the head of our team here. I also need to brief him on
the situation.”

* * * *

In the security command center behind the administrative offices at
The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Saturday
late morning, December 5, 2015

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Dane Dunross led the group further back into the administrative

offices to a steel door that was closed and locked. He knocked and a
buzzer sounded. He opened the door and gestured for Logan and
Melodie to enter.

Ernesto Blanco, the head of the security team, was watching the

array of monitors and the GPS tracking system.  The entire hotel
complex, public rooms, and grounds were covered by camera
surveillance.  He was watching all of the people currently on the
premises,  looking for anything unusual or out of the ordinary.
Usually,  a turn at the security monitors was uneventful and boring,
especially now, before all the guests arrived. He turned in his swivel
chair and greeted his guests. Dane explained the situation.

“We’ll have Big Brother’s eyes on you at all times.” Ernesto

smiled. “The surveillance cameras switch over to infrared at night, so
we also have eyes in the dark.” He pointed to the GPS tracking
system. “We’ll always know where you are.”

Logan looked intrigued. “Even off premises?”
“Anywhere in the world. This is a system similar to those used by

the big logistics companies to keep track of cargo. As long as you are
wearing your bracelet and it hasn’t been disabled, we can track you.
Needless to say, do not disclose the significance of the bracelets to
anyone. Your life may depend on your being able to retain the white
bracelet in any situation. I suggest you mix it in with the colored club
bracelets so it doesn’t stand out as being different or important.”

“Thanks, guys. Mel and I are going back to the suite for a while

and then down to the pool for the afternoon.”

“Enjoy your stay and try to relax, but keep your eyes open.”

Ernesto stood to shake their hands.

* * * *

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Skye Michaels

Karin was sitting at the table in her grandmother’s kitchen in

Queens while she read the want ads in the New York Post. She had a
cup of coffee and a plate of toast in front of her.  She was bummed.
She had no money for a plane ticket to Florida, no credit card to rent a
car, and her grandmother had no car or money,  either.  How was she
going to get to Florida?  She had to get to Logan.  She had to.  If she
wasted  too  much  more time,  it would be too late.  The bitch
might…she didn’t know what, and she didn’t want to think about the
possibilities.

Her eyes glanced over a small ad, and then came back to it.

“Driver wanted to transport Cadillac CTS sedan to Palm Beach,
Florida. Return transportation, all expenses and per diem mileage.” A
telephone number was listed. This could be it—a way to get herself to
Florida and earn some money on top of it.

Karin called the number and made arrangements to visit the

apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer Steinman in Brooklyn Heights
that afternoon. She ditched the Goth look and arrived on time.

“Well, dear, Mr. Steinman and I spend every winter in Florida.

Mr. Steinman had a heart attack and isn’t able to drive down or ride
the Auto Train any more, and we want our Cadillac in Palm Beach.
We’re willing to pay expenses and return transportation in addition to
a daily fee and mileage to have someone reliable drive our car to Palm
Beach. We would ask you to drive us to the airport, then we’ll fly
down to Florida, and you can leave the same day. Mortie’s sister can
pick us up at Palm Beach airport, and we’ll be there waiting for you to
deliver the car. What do you think?”

Karin smiled her most charming smile. “I think that’s a great plan.

When did you want to leave?”

“Next Thursday, the tenth. We already have plane reservations.”
“Perfect. That would work out very well for me.”
“Excellent, my dear. We’ll see you on Thursday at nine o’clock in

the morning. That will give us plenty of time to get to the airport.”

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123

They shook hands, and Karin left them with her contact information
at her grandmother’s apartment.

Perfect. This is freakin’ perfect. She would be on her way to

Logan in a few days, and then good-bye Melodie Bitch Buxton. She
had twelve hundred miles of open road to refine her plan.

* * * *

In the Hawk-Buxton Suite at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort
Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Saturday late morning, December 5,
2015

Melodie looked out the glass doors that opened onto their covered

and partially enclosed balcony overlooking the beach.  The sky was
starting  to  darken, and ominous clouds were hanging low on the
horizon.  No pool this afternoon.  It looked like a storm was blowing
in.

“Logan? I had an idea of something I’d like to do while we’re

here. I’d like to paint you. I brought my paints, brushes, pastels, and
sketchpads. I only need to pick up some canvas. I saw an easel I can
borrow in the admin offices. What do you say?”

“Really?” He looked a little uncomfortable. She could tell the idea

of sitting for a portrait did not appeal to him.

“I’d like to memorialize our engagement. Please. It would mean

so much to me.” She gave him a pleading look. “I can start with some
sketches now and go out for canvas later.”

“All right. Just for you. Let’s not make a procedure of it, though.

I’m not one for sitting still for too long.”

“I’ll try to make it as painless as possible. I promise.” She kissed

him hard on the mouth and pulled him toward the balcony doors. “I
can see what I want in my mind already.” She had him sit with his
back to the roiling sky and ocean and immediately began to sketch.
She posed him stretched out on the chaise with one leg raised as

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though he was holding a guitar. She’d add the instrument later. She
planned to make the sky behind him a dark swirl of abstract clouds,
outlining his striking profile. He was shirtless wearing ripped jeans
almost worn white, and his long, black hair was spread over his broad
shoulders and muscular chest. She was getting turned-on just looking
at him. Okay. Concentrate. This is work.

After an hour, she could see that Logan was getting antsy. “Okay,

babe. That’s enough for today. I’ll want to do some more sketches
tomorrow morning, and then I’ll find out where I can get canvas.” She
reached down and kissed him. “Thanks for being so patient.”

He pulled her down into his lap. “This is what’s been in my mind

the whole time.  Not so  very patient at all.”  He crushed his mouth to
hers and slipped his hand inside her shirt.  He had her bra unclasped
before she knew it.  The man had excellent  coordination, something
she had already known. His mouth went down and latched on to one
of her nipples…

* * * *

In the Hawk-Buxton Suite at The Black Dahlia Hotel, Fort
Lauderdale Beach, Florida, Friday early morning, December 11,
2015

Melodie looked up from the easel. Logan was stretched out in the

same position he’d been in every morning for a week.  She had been
able to locate an excellent art supply store and had canvas delivered.
Dane’s secretary had been happy to lend her the easel  she’d seen in
the office, and she had been able to borrow an old twelve-string guitar
from a friend of Kaylin’s.  Actually, it was a beautiful, old Spanish
instrument, and Logan had become very fond of it.  He wasn’t going
to want to give it up when the painting was finished. He’d tuned it and
begun playing as soon as she had brought it up to the suite. He really
was an amazing musician.  He played anything from hard rock to

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125

classical pieces. She loved watching his long, strong fingers work the
frets.

The painting was coming along very well. She was quite satisfied

with the stormy black-and-gray cloud background that had an abstract
feeling. She was currently working on Logan’s strong, hawk-like
profile and the highlights in his long hair. The details of his body and
long legs stretched out on the chaise and the details of the beautiful
guitar had not been difficult.

She was going to leave his facial features for last because that

would be the most challenging part of the picture. She knew Logan
was curious, but she kept the canvas covered with a sheet she’d
borrowed from housekeeping when she wasn’t working on it. So far,
he hadn’t peeked, although she knew he was tempted.

“Do you want to go to the pool after lunch? It looks like it’s going

to be a gorgeous afternoon. I wouldn’t mind some fresh air and
sunshine.”

“Fine with me, babe. By the way, Dane made arrangements for

me to join some guys he knows for a deep-sea fishing charter
tomorrow morning. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Kaylin invited me to go shopping at the Galleria Mall

on Sunrise Boulevard tomorrow. She needs a few odds and ends for
the cruise. The wedding is in two weeks, and I think she’s a little
nervous.”

“That’s good. Do you need anything for the cruise? Do you want

my credit card?”

“You are a very brave man, Logan Hawk, but no, thanks. I have

my own credit card. I will probably pick up a few new things myself.”

Melodie was amazed at how easy and comfortable she and Logan

were together. They had enjoyed each other’s company, walking the
beach and swimming in the pool and the lazy river. They had eaten on
their balcony or in the dining room and gone out to dinner and to
Jack’s Black Iris Club several times. She didn’t think they had gotten
on each other’s nerves during the whole eight days—except when

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Logan got tired of sitting in one position for too long. She had to
remember than he was used to being active, not sitting around.

She had not planned to be away from the gallery for such an

extended  time.  Jasper was doing fine, and she hadn’t had a real
vacation since the stabbing.  It felt good to just relax—not to have
anywhere she had to be, no one she had to answer to—except,  of
course,  her Master.  In fact, as far as she could tell,  Logan had no
interest in a D/s relationship except in the bedroom or dungeon.  He
was perfectly happy to defer to her in whatever she wanted to do.

She did notice that he had not let his guard down, and when they

left the hotel,  he was always looking over his shoulder for Karin
Sanders.  She did wish this was over and they could go back to a
normal routine.  Maybe Karin had given up and realized that Logan
was never going to be hers. Doubtful, but she could hope.

Early Saturday morning, they had breakfast on their balcony. It

was actually easier for the staff to bring up their food than to serve it
on the dining terrace. “Well, have fun fishing and bring home a big
one, oh mighty fisherman.”

“I plan to do just that. I’ve never been deep-sea fishing before, but

I spent summers trout fishing on the Rez. Itza-chu and I liked to tie
our own flies.”

“Who is Itza-chu?”
“It means ‘great hawk’—my grandfather.”
“How will he feel about you marrying outside the tribe?”
“I’m only half Apache, and he says that’s not my better half. He

adores my mother. She never tried to deny the Apache side of my
heritage and made sure I spent lots of time with my grandfather. He
will love you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. I’ll leave the worrying to you. I’m going downstairs to

wait for Kaylin.”

“The offer of the credit card is still open. Have fun, but keep your

eyes open, and spend some money.” He grinned.

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127

“Oh, you can count on that, but I’m good about the credit card.

See you later. Love you, baby.” She leaned down and kissed him
before she left the suite.

* * * *

Melodie was standing just inside the door of the lobby when she

saw Kaylin drive up in a gorgeous red Ferrari. She ran out and
jumped into the car.

“Beautiful car, Kaylin. I think I’ll apply to the Sheriff’s Office.”
“Ha! It’s Jack’s, of course. BSO salaries do not run to Ferraris

unless you’re on the take.” Kaylin drove out of the entrance of the
hotel and turned onto Ocean Drive, and then made a left onto Sunrise
Boulevard. “The mall is just up the street. There are a couple of great
places for lunch, and Macy’s and Neiman Markup are there as well as
a lot of smaller stores.”

“Sounds good. I think I’ll pick up a few things for the cruise as

well. Logan kept trying to give me his credit card. I told him no, of
course.”

“He just wanted to do something nice for you. Sometimes men

want to do something nice, but don’t know what.” She grinned. “Let
me see your ring.”

“Don’t have one yet. We’re going to shop for one together when

we get back to New York. But you can see the antique silver cuff
bracelet that belonged to his grandmother.” She shot the bracelet out
from under the cuff of her white gauze shirt. “Logan’s proposal was
sort of impromptu. I don’t think he had been planning to ask me right
then. This unscheduled vacation because of Karin has scrambled up a
lot of things.”

“Oh, Melodie, that’s beautiful. I love Indian jewelry, especially

turquoise. It brings out my eye color—or so I like to think.”

Kaylin pulled the Ferrari into the covered parking lot behind

Macy’s. “I always park here. That way, I don’t lose the car. Jack said

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to valet park, but I hate to do that. I always think those guys are
tooling around town in my car while I’m shopping.”

They hopped out and Kaylin carefully clipped the keys to the

handle of her shoulder bag. They walked in the Macy’s entrance and
looked around. They both immediately spotted the shoe department
and made their way in that direction.

While they were combing the clearance racks, Kaylin said, “Do

you want to duck into Mayors Jewelers later, just to check out rings?”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll wait for Logan. He’s been so patient about

sitting for his portrait that I’d hate to disappoint him by jumping the
gun on the ring.”

“How’s that going, by the way? Did Del’s guitar work out?”
“Oh, yes. It’s beautiful. Logan tuned it and immediately began

playing. I think we’re going to have to pry it out of his cold, dead
hands. He’s not going to want to give it back.”

“Well, he should make Del an offer. It’s not like he’s attached to it

or anything. I think he bought it at a garage sale or flea market or
something.”

“I’ll have to let Logan know.”
They made their way to the resort-wear department and again

began checking out the clearance racks. Melodie laughed. “I sense a
pattern here, girlfriend.”

“Oh, yeah. All of us are clearance shoppers. My maid of honor,

Chloe, loves Ralph Lauren, but she absolutely refuses to buy it unless
it’s on sale.”

“It can be pricy. Some of his blouses go for a hundred bucks or

more. I do like the quality, though.”

Once they had an armful of possibilities, they made their way to

the dressing room and got side-by-side stalls. Kaylin said over the
divider, “So, how are you doing with the BDSM thing? I understand
from Jack that you’re a newbie.”

“I’m okay with it, although I never would have thought I’d

actually be doing it—my friend Pansy and I used to joke about it after

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129

we read Fifty Shades. I wasn’t really surprised when Logan told me
he was a Dom. He has a very alpha, dominant vibe—or maybe it’s
just his stunning facial features. I can’t wait to start painting them.”

“I got involved with it when I went undercover in Jack’s club

while Del and I were investigating that serial killer case.  Chloe had
been dating a Dom, and then they broke up, but none of us knew
about the BDSM aspect until the Baker case came up.  Jack’s
receptionist was one of his victims, and we thought the perp might be
a member of the club because surveillance video showed him carrying
one of the club’s duffel  bags.”  She giggled.  “It was sure an eye-
opener for me.”

“I like these capris. I might get them in a couple of colors. I think

there were matching tops on the rack as well. I’ll check when we go
back out for round two.”

* * * *

Karin was sitting in the dressing cubby on the other side of

Melodie, listening to the conversation between the two girls. She had
delivered the car to the Steinmans, gotten her money,  including a
generous tip, picked up a  1990 black Ford from  “Rent a Wreck” for
cheap,  and made her way to Fort Lauderdale.  She was staying in an
old motel Federal Highway in Pompano. It sure was nothing like the
Black Dahlia Hotel.  I should be staying in that fancy hotel with
Logan, not you, Scar Face.

She had been staking out the hotel entrance in the hopes of seeing

Melodie leave.  She had gotten lucky that morning.  She’d  been
reluctant to make a foray onto the hotel property in case they were on
the lookout for her.  She had noticed the police presence around
Melodie’s gallery had certainly increased  after her visit.  She’d been
lucky to get in, find what she needed and then get out again.

She followed the two girls to the mall and pulled into a vacant

space right next to the Ferrari. She hadn’t decided what she was going

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to do yet, other than follow them around the mall, eavesdrop, and
possibly pick up some useful information—and maybe grab Melodie
again if she got a chance. She knew she looked totally different
without the Goth makeup and clothing. They never even noticed her.

* * * *

Melodie and Kaylin slipped into a booth at the Blue Marlin Grill.

“I’m actually hungry. All of this upset has had an effect on my
appetite—not that I’ve lost an ounce, especially in my butt.”

“How are you enjoying The Black Dahlia, with construction still

ongoing and all?”

“It’s weird having a whole hotel to ourselves, but I can see it’s

going to be outrageous when it’s all done.”

“It had better be done and soon. Don’t worry about being all by

yourselves.  In two weeks,  the place will be jumping with the crowd
coming in for our wedding, and a club from Savannah is bringing in
about fifty people.  We’re going to open the dungeon with my
collaring ceremony instead of bachelor and bachelorette parties.  We
thought that would be exciting.”

“I think that will be great. I sense that you are a tad nervous, Kay,

which is only to be expected.”

“I am. Jack’s family is very wealthy, and mine is just middle-

class. All of them, including his favorite cousin, who is a Domme, are
coming down from New York. And she has it in for me.”

“Barbara Brown? I’ve met her. She seems nice enough in her

Domme way. Of course, she always ignores me at the club, and that’s
the only place I’ve had any exposure to her. I adore her sub, Ross.
He’s a hedge fund manager and always gives me stock tips.”

“Well, Jack and I had a fight, and he went up to New York for that

bachelor auction she put on at Le Club Eastside last year.”

“That’s where Logan met that nut job, Karin Sanders, who has

been stalking him. That auction has caused problems for both of us.”

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“Jack and I weren’t talking at the time, and I’m sure he poured his

anger and frustration out to Barbara, and now she hates me. She and
Jack are extremely close and always have been. I don’t know. I just
want everything to be perfect.”

“That’s only natural. I’m sure it will all go like clockwork. How

many brides get to have their wedding in their own hotel? Relax and
enjoy the journey.”

“You’re right. Now if I could just do it!”
“I have to start thinking about what I want to do for a wedding.

Logan says he doesn’t want a long engagement, and for me to start
figuring out what I want to do. I’ve always dreamed of a wedding in
Central Park with a horse-drawn carriage. Wouldn’t that be great?”

* * * *

Nut job? Scar face thought she was a nut job? I’ll show her a nut

job! Karin was seated at a table on the other side of the row of booths
with a high mahogany divider between the tables. She was eating a
salad with a glass of water. This place was kind of pricy, and she was
trying to keep expenses down.

What was that? Logan and the bitch are engaged? That can’t be.

He was hers. She should be planning her wedding to Logan. She
closed her eyes for a moment and saw red.

* * * *

Kaylin smiled. “Central Park would be fabulous—especially if

you do it in the spring.”

“That would probably be good timing. I’m having another

corrective surgery on my face after the first of the year. Hopefully,
this will be the last one. I hope so. I hate to set my expectations up too
high and then be disappointed.”

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“I’m a girl, Melodie, so I’m not going to say it’s nothing, but the

scar is not as bad as you probably think it is.”

“That’s what Logan says. But it’s on my face, not someone else’s.

He says I’m beautiful no matter what. And that’s a wonderful thing.”

“It certainly is. He’s something else. I really like him.”
“My best friend, Pansy, is crazy about him, too. I think he had her

won over when he started to crack through my shell, and she could
see me opening up to people again. At that point she wouldn’t have
cared if he was a vampire, never mind into BDSM.”

“Yeah. Best friends are like that. I don’t know what I’d do without

my posse. Chloe, Gabriella and Nicollette are the best. You’ll meet
them and their Dom fiancés. It’s amazing, but every one of us has
gotten hooked up with a Dom. How weird is that?”

“Pretty weird, I have to say.” Melodie laughed and Kaylin smiled.

Melodie was a lovely girl when she relaxed and opened up. Logan
was a lucky man, and a smart one to overlook the scar. Some men
wouldn’t.

They finished eating, paid the bill and got up. “What do you want

to do next? There are more clearance racks, girlfriend.”

“Lead on. I’m game now that I’ve been fortified with food and the

caffeine from that iced tea.”

* * * *

Later that afternoon, Melodie and Kaylin were walking back to

the parking lot. Their arms were loaded down with bags full of new
clothes, shoes, and handbags. Their clearance rack scouring had been
extremely successful.

“I’m exhausted, Kaylin. You have managed to wear this New

Yorker out.”

Kaylin beeped the locks on the Ferrari and popped the trunk.

“Then I’m doing my job.” She stopped to adjust her shoe. She had
dropped their several bags into the trunk.

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Just then, Melodie felt a sharp point in her back again and she was

shoved toward the old car in the next parking spot. “In the car, bitch.”

“Kay, help!”
“Shut up, bitch. Get in the car if you don’t want another scar.”

Karin still had her arm around Melodie’s throat and the knife to her
back.

Melodie could see Kaylin scrambling up and reaching into her

handbag. She pulled out a handgun, but Karin was using her body as a
shield. Kaylin did not have a clear shot. There were also other
shoppers in the close confines of the low-ceilinged, concrete-walled
garage. Melodie was frozen with fear. A knife was her darkest
nightmare. She would have rather faced a gun.

Karin pushed her into the back seat of the car and hit her on the

back of the head with the heavy handle of the knife. She was stunned.
Karin jumped into the car and peeled out of the parking spot without
looking, and tore toward the exit of the parking garage.

* * * *

Kaylin took several shots at the tires of the car, but missed as

Karin turned the corner out of the garage. She pulled her cell phone
out of her handbag and jumped into the Ferrari to give chase. She
dialed first Del and then Chloe, told them what had happened, and
gave them the license plate of the Ford. Then she dialed the security
office at the hotel.

“Ernesto, that Karin person grabbed Melodie in the parking lot

outside Macy’s. I’m trying to follow, but I don’t see her. She’s in an
old Ford that blends into the traffic.”

“I’ve got her. I can see you aren’t in the same vehicle any longer.

She’s headed west on Sunrise. Now she’s making the curve onto
Federal going north.”

“I’m right behind her. Please let Jack know what’s going on. I’ve

already called my partner, Del Lord, and Chloe Carlton at BSO to get

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out an APB.” Why couldn’t she have taken out those rear tires? She
was going to put in some more time at the firing range after the dust
from the wedding settled.

Kaylin tore out of the parking lot behind the mall and through the

red light onto Sunrise Boulevard without regard for the traffic. She
still couldn’t see the Ford. She would have to rely on Ernesto to be
her eyes in the heavy Saturday afternoon traffic. Her gun was lying on
the seat beside her.

Shit! How had this happened? She’d had her eyes out for Karin

Sanders all day, and still she managed to get the drop on them. Jack
was going to be furious with her because she hadn’t valet parked, but
really, that might not have made a difference. The woman was
determined, that was for sure. Right now, she had to watch traffic,
watch for the Ford, and try to catch up with Melodie and Karin. Was
that the car up at the next stop light? She wasn’t sure. Melodie must
be so scared.

She was catching up to the car she thought might be Karin. She

pulled alongside and took her eyes off the road for a moment. Shit. It
wasn’t them. She hit the gas and moved ahead again, scanning the
traffic for the black Ford. She thought she had spotted another
possibility and sped up again, moving in and out of traffic like a race
driver. She had to say, this car was a dream to drive. That looked like
them up ahead. She was pretty sure. She didn’t take her eyes off the
other car for a minute.

She had her phone on speaker and heard Ernesto say, “You’ve

almost got them. The car is turning into a parking lot on the east side
of the highway.”

“Thanks, Ernesto. I see them. Pulling into the Swaying Palms

Motel now. Let everyone know. Send backup.”

Karin was dragging a half-conscious Melodie out of the back seat

of the Ford when Kaylin tore into the lot, tires squealing, effectively
blocking in Karin’s car. She jumped out with her gun drawn. “BSO.

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Let her go. If you don’t want to end up with a hole where you don’t
want one, let her go now. I won’t tell you again.”

Karin apparently saw the futility of resisting further. She dropped

her hold on Melodie, who immediately fell to the ground, scraping her
knees and hands on the rough asphalt. “Melodie. Back away now.”
Melodie obeyed, although Kaylin could see she was still not fully
with the program.

When Melodie was out of reach, Kaylin kept her gun trained on

Karin. “Hands on the car door, legs spread. Do you have any
weapons?”

“Just the knife on the front seat of the car.” Kaylin was reaching

for a zip-tie handcuff when two BSO cruisers arrived on the scene.
Kaylin backed up and let the uniforms cuff Karin. In another minute,
Del Lord pulled up in his dark-green Jeep. “Jesus, Kaylin, can’t you
even go shopping at the mall without starting WWIII?”

“Apparently not, wise guy.” She lowered her gun and ran to

Melodie. She squatted down beside her. “Are you okay, honey? Did
she hurt you? Any cuts?”

“No. I’m okay. I pretended to be unconscious, and she left me

alone in the back seat—ranting and raving the whole way. She must
have been listening in on our conversation all day because she had a
lot of information. I think what tipped her over was hearing that
Logan and I are engaged. I think that must have been the final straw.”

“I was watching for her all day, but without the Goth getup, I

didn’t notice her. Thank God you’re all right.” She helped Melodie
stand.

Karin was struggling against the uniformed officers as they tried

to restrain and cuff her. “Let me go, you assholes.” It was clearly
going to take two of them to hold her. She looked over at Melodie
standing beside the Ferrari. “This isn’t over, bitch! Logan is mine.
He’s been mine since last year. You have no right to interfere in our
relationship.”

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Just then, Jack arrived in his SUV with Logan riding shotgun.

They both piled out of the car. Logan immediately ran to Melodie and
took her into his arms.

Karin was screaming in fury. When she saw Logan she wailed.

“Logan. Logan, baby. Don’t let them do this to me. We belong
together. You can’t want Scar Face.”

Kaylin could see that Logan was shaking with worry for Melodie

and now with anger at Karin’s cruel words. Good thing Jack had been
there to drive.

“Karin, shut up. I have nothing else to say to you.”
Jack rushed over to Kaylin and pulled her into his arms. “Thank

God you’re okay. What happened?”

She gave him the short version, failing to actually mention that

she had not valet-parked the Ferrari. He looked at her with one dark
brow raised. She hated when he did that. He could read her like a
book, and she had no chance of keeping anything from him. “And all
this happened at valet parking?”

“Well, no, actually I parked behind Macy’s where I always park.”
“And do you always disobey direct orders that are given to insure

your safety?”

“Ummm, no. I usually do exactly as you say, Master.”
“Now that is a downright fib. I think we are going to discuss this

further in the dungeon tonight, subbie. We’ve had this conversation
before. You are to be careful with what belongs to me—and you
belong to me, Kaylin.”

Kaylin started to blush. She hoped none of the guys had heard

that.

* * * *

Logan couldn’t hold Melodie close enough. “Oh, baby. That was

the longest drive of my life. Are you sure you’re okay?”

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“I’m fine. Just a little bump on the back of my head where she hit

me with the butt of the knife. I don’t think the skin is broken. I’m
okay, Logan. Really.”

“Let me see.” He gently parted her hair and felt her scalp. “Okay.

I don’t see any blood. I never want to see blood on you again. Jack
will drive us back to the hotel, and then I’m never letting you out of
my sight for the rest of our lives.”

“The rest of our lives? That’s a long time.”
“Never. And don’t be a smart ass or you’ll be sharing Kaylin’s

spanking. Jack is hot. I think I was just treated to the longest string of
expletives I’ve ever heard. And he never took a breath.”

“She saved me, Logan. She was fantastic.”
“She was also disobedient. Remember that for future reference.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Just what I like to hear.”
She mumbled under her breath, “Right.”
“What was that, subbie?”
“I asked, ‘Did you catch any fish?’”
“Sure you did.” He pulled her tighter and kissed her hard. God, he

loved this woman.

* * * *

Melodie collapsed on the bed in their suite. She was exhausted.

The fear she’d experienced when she felt Karin’s knife at her back
again was mind-numbing. Everything in the background had started
to blur around the edges, just like in her painting. She had been all but
incapacitated. She had to get over this fear of knives. Maybe Logan
would help her work on that.

“Baby, I’m going to order dinner in the suite. What do you want?”
“I don’t know. Surprise me. I can’t make any decisions right now.

I am wiped.”

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Logan’s cell phone rang and he answered. He listened for a

moment and then said, “I’ll bring her in to BSO to make a statement
tomorrow, unless you want to take it here.” He listened again. “So
she’s been taken to the lockdown ward of Broward General and will
get a psychiatric evaluation prior to most likely being committed.”

He glanced at Melodie who was listening raptly. “Yes, I

understand. She is totally delusional, although I’m no expert. Thanks,
Del. We appreciate everything you guys did for us today. I’m glad it’s
over.”

He disconnected the phone call. “Babe, Karin is in the psyche

ward at Broward General.” He lay down on the bed beside her and
pulled her snugly into his arms. He kissed the back of her head.

“Can’t psyche patients get out?” He could feel her still trembling.
“If she’s deemed competent to stand trial, then she would be

convicted and go to prison.  She may be over the edge now, but she
wasn’t when she committed her crimes of assault  with a deadly
weapon, kidnapping and attempted murder.  She’s not getting out,
Melodie, not for a very long time.”

She gave a huge sigh of relief. Then the tears she’d held back

began to roll gently down her cheeks. “Oh, Logan. I don’t believe it’s
finally over.”

* * * *

Karin was lying on a hospital bed. She knew she was in the psych

ward and that the door with the six-inch reinforced glass window was
locked. She had tried to leave before the meds they had shot into her
arm had kicked in. She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t. She was in love
with Logan Hawk, the most beautiful man on the planet. That wasn’t
crazy. That was her destiny. She drifted off to sleep.

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Epilogue

Cherry Hill in Central Park, New York City, New York, Saturday mid-
afternoon, June 18, 2016

The horse-drawn carriage, bedecked in pink-and-white roses,

approached the circular plaza at the top of the gentle slope known as
Cherry Hill, overlooking the lake in Central Park. Melodie took a
moment to think back over the highlights of the months since
Christmas.

She had completed the painting of Logan in Florida, but had yet to

show it to him. She’d been very pleased with the results. He had been
patient, although she knew he was dying for the unveiling. It, along
with the abstract from the gallery window, was his wedding present,
and she would be giving them to him tonight.

Jack and Kaylin’s wedding on the front veranda of The Black

Dahlia Hotel had been spectacular, as was their collaring ceremony at
the grand opening of the new dungeon.  Melodie and Logan had  a
wonderful time aboard the Golden Dolphin for the cruise to Bermuda.
They were  finally totally relaxed,  and  happy to know that Karin
Sanders had been committed and hopefully would get the help she so
desperately needed.  Logan had finally agreed to spend some time in
the dungeon with her, working on her pathological fear of knives, and
they had just about conquered that final barrier.

Dark Place’s six-city tour had been a stunning success, and their

second album was climbing the Billboard charts and was already a
million-seller. The guys were here as the ushers and Billie was
Logan’s best man. They had promised to be good and not pull any of

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their famous practical jokes. She’d told them they would get no cake
if they didn’t behave. They all looked handsome in tuxedos with fresh
haircuts that they had complained about bitterly.

The best news was that her last surgery had been successful, and

there was barely any scar left on her face at all.  She had pulled her
dark hair up into a loose bun on top of her head,  and it was
surrounded with a coronet of baby roses and orchids, which matched
her bridal bouquet.  With good makeup,  the scar was now invisible.
She had felt no need to cover her face with a veil for her wedding. Dr.
Goldman and his wife were among the guests, and that was the best
present he could have given her for this day. The white lace wedding
dress,  beaded with seed pearls,  had a short train that she would be
unbuttoning from under the bustle before the dancing began.

The weather was beautiful and warm, with a cool breeze blowing

over the lake.  Melodie  took a deep breath.  This was it.  The moment
she’d been waiting  months  for  had arrived.  Sam got out of the
carriage and helped Pansy down. Melodie had to grin to herself. She
hoped the maid of honor and the best man didn’t kill each other
today—she didn’t want any blood on her wedding dress.  Then he
reached up to assist Melodie. When she was standing on the ground,
she adjusted her skirts,  the coronet of flowers in her hair,  and her
bridal bouquet. She reached up and kissed Sam’s cheek as he took her
arm.

“You look beautiful, Melodie, and I’m very proud to be your dad.

You’ve been through a lot, Punkin’, and handled it all like a champ.”

“Thanks, Dad. I couldn’t have had a better father, and I’m glad

you’re here to walk me down the aisle.”

Melodie saw that her mother and sister had started crying buckets

when the carriage pulled up. Pansy was her maid of honor, and was
walking down the aisle in front of her, clearing the way as always.
Melodie hoped she would be able to keep her tears of joy contained,
at least until after the photographs had been taken. She could already
feel them backing up in her throat.

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141

Jack and Kaylin, Chloe and J.J., and Nikki and Dan had flown up

from Florida for the wedding.  Gabriella was involved in a big trial,
and she and Miguel had not been able to come. Bunches of their New
York friends from the neighborhood and Le Club, including Barbara
Brown and Ross Blackstone,  were there.  Logan’s grandparents were
seated up front, and  her parents and his grandfather  had come in on
the same flight from Phoenix.  Jasper and Max were sitting on the
aisle, and she gave them a little finger wave.  Jasper had been
invaluable in helping to get the wedding plans finalized on time. She
couldn’t have done it without him.

Logan’s mother and some of her friends from Juilliard had formed

a string quartet to play during the ceremony.  She couldn’t believe
how everything had come together.  The reception following the
ceremony was being held at Tavern on the Green.  They had been
lucky to get the date on relatively short notice when there had been a
cancellation, the reason for which she didn’t want to know.  It was
enough that they had been able to book the iconic location for their
reception.

As the music began, Melodie and Sam started up the white satin

runner rolled out over the lawn. A sprinkling of cherry blossoms blew
from the trees and caught in the breeze. Natural pink confetti. How
appropriate.

When they reached the small tent at the head of the aisle, Sam

handed her off to Logan  and  took his seat beside her mother.  Logan
took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. He’d been her rock—
there for her at every turn.  He had even flown back from Chicago
during the concert tour to be there for her surgery.  She was grateful
that he’d been  the one to hold her life in his hands on  that day two-
and-a-half years ago when she thought it might be ending.

Logan. Beautiful Logan. He was everything. He looked so

handsome in a traditional black tuxedo that complemented his austere
good looks. But today, she knew she was the pretty one. He told her
that every single day.

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The minister started the ceremony with the traditional words.

They whispered the private vows they had composed for each other,
and then he pronounced them man and wife. Logan swept her into his
arms and kissed her like not another soul was there. It was magical.

* * * *

Logan held Melodie close and then he kissed the tears off her

cheeks. He was never going to let this woman go. “I love you, baby.
You are everything—the light, the dark, the sun, the rain.”

As they turned to walk down the aisle, the quartet began to play

Melodie’s Song. She hadn’t known that was coming. He’d reworked
the score for strings and provided the music to his mother a month
ago. It sounded good. The raw, exquisite beauty of the piece sounded
right for this moment. They walked back down the aisle, and he lifted
her back into the horse-drawn carriage for the ride to Tavern on the
Green.

THE END

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I was born in New Jersey and grew up an only child on a small

farm in the “Garden State.” My father grew acres and acres of flowers
for commercial florists and various produce, such as tomatoes. My
high school years were spent at Wayne Hills High School, where I
was not one of the popular, preppy kids, or one of the hoods—which
kind of left me in limbo as I wasn’t one of the brainiacs either.
Weekends were spent going into “the City” and Greenwich Village
with my friends and doing a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have—
don’t tell my grandkids!

After attending Katharine Gibbs School in Montclair, New Jersey,

I began a career as a legal secretary and then a paralegal. I moved to
Florida and currently live in Davie, Florida, with my dog,
Snickerdoodles, aka The Dude. I was married for eight years but have
been single for many years. My major addiction is jewelry, but any
kind of shopping will do for a fix!

After my longtime job as a paralegal was ended by the economic

downturn, I decided to turn lemons into lemonade and finally write
the stories I’d had in my head for many years. I had always wanted to
write romance novels, but my family and job kept me too busy.

My major interest aside from my family and friends is horses. I

enjoy putting an animal character into my stories if possible. I am
extremely “low-tech” and probably should have been born in the
1800s, as I enjoy driving a horse and buggy for fun. I also enjoy
horseback riding, but the ground has gotten harder and farther away
over the years.

I have a small farm and vacation home in Ocala, Florida, which is

my favorite place in the world. There’s nothing as wonderful as
swinging in the hammock in the shade and listening to the music of
the wind in the pines while cuddled under a quilt reading a good
book.

Books have always been my escape into love and adventure, and

through reading, I have been able to be many people, do many things,
and go to many wonderful places I wouldn’t have otherwise been able
to be, do, or see.

I hope that all hardworking women who have a moment to put up

their tired feet and relax with a cup of coffee—or a glass of wine—
will feel like they have had the opportunity to enjoy a trip to beautiful
South Florida, my own backyard. I hope they also enjoy getting to
meet my fantasy friends and experiencing something new and
different with a touch of hot romance thrown in for good measure!

New adventures with old and new friends will continue with this

new Black Dahlia Hotel Series.

For all titles by Skye Michaels, please visit