“She’s our only connection, other than Mistress Jade.” Montana’s mind was reeling, thoughts about a case long ago gnawing at his gut.

  “There are no coincidences.” Grant looked down at the folder. “I have a terrible feeling this is just the beginning.”

  “So do I, partner. So do I.” He glanced at his phone and smiled. “Speak of the devil. Let’s see what the good doctor knows.”

  Destiny had remained unnerved since the phone call with the detective. While he’d merely asked her basic questions, red flags had risen sky high. She had enough friends on the police force to find out the names of the victims. Mark Ramos had been coming to see her infrequently over the last four years. Her immediate diagnosis had revolved around his time spent on the police force. His psyche had been unable to handle the volume of murders, given his jurisdiction in the city of Richmond, a location once highlighted as a murder capital in the United States. He’d been plagued with nightmares, creating difficulties in his teaching profession. Through working on his fears as well as medicine, he’d returned to a relatively normal life. Or so she’d been led to believe. His last visit had been over six months before. Now he was dead.

  Shivering, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited for the light to change. The second victim was something else entirely. Her background was one of abuse, but she’d managed to dig her way out of a broken home, earning a master’s degree in business. Still, the girl’s trauma had remained, manifesting itself in bouts of self-mutilation. She’d missed two appointments in the last four weeks. Her parents had been called but had yet to identify the body, however the picture her policy buddy had sent her was clear enough. Candace Williams had indeed been her patient.

  Destiny heard the honk behind her and hit the gas pedal, heading for home. As she drove down Cary Street her mind wandered. Her midnight dreams moving into her consciousness was more than disconcerting. She’d always been able to hear voices from the dead, hearing their cries of help since a small child. They’d begged for salvation. They’d shown her the true beast living inside all of us. Shoving them inside a padlocked box hadn’t been easy. She feared her years of neglect were literally coming back to haunt her. Ghosts and demons refused to be denied.

  She cringed and turned on the radio, trying her best to get her mind off the limited details of the murders. How could anyone kill so viciously?

  You belong to me. Never forget.

  “No!” Destiny slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “You aren’t real.” Yet she heard his laughter as well as his calling. He wanted her and would stop at nothing to have her. Images of women tied and gagged rushed into her mind’s eye. Their bodies writhed as they struggled, their bodies glistening with sweat and cum, saliva and urine.

  Crack!

  She jumped as the end of a whip slashed against the naked body of a woman. The visions were detailed, vivid in color and absolutely terrifying. “Leave me alone!” There was no doubt the women craved the pain. “Just go away. I don’t need you.”

  After a few seconds, the images disappeared. She moaned and wiped her brow. The dead were calling out to her. Concentrating, she looked at the red light. She bit her lip and leaned forward. When the light turned green, she pumped the gas. The squeal of her tires forced her back into reality.

  The night was teeming with activity, dozens of people frequenting the various bars aligning the sidewalks. The Fan was the only place to live in her mind. The mixture of gingerbread style homes, some built in the late eighteen hundreds, depicted a quaint yet colorful environment. When she turned on her tree lined street, she groaned. There were no parking spaces close to her house.

  Finally securing a spot around the corner, she climbed out of the car, grabbing her briefcase. Her thoughts remained with the victims. Why were they killed? Was there a connection, other than they were her patients? What little she’d been able to glean from her buddy in the department was that there was some question about the BDSM community, something she knew but so much about. The details he’d given were sketchy, but she was able to connect the dots to a point. The murders weren’t random in nature.

  Vanilla. Her entire life had been nothing but, especially her sex life. The draw of kinky and sinful she could understand, but the lifestyle? Sighing, she hugged her purse close to her body as she began the four-block walk to her house. The trees rustled as she walked, the wind whipping through the leaves. In the distance she heard thunder. She loathed storms, hated being alone during one. Ordinarily the trek down a pristine tree-lined street wouldn’t bother her. Tonight? Her skin crawled, her pulse and adrenaline kicking into overdrive.

  Michael’s behavior continued to bother her. He’d never been like this before. Never. In the years she’d known him, and even through his various sexual overtures, he’d never acted on his desires until this afternoon. She pushed hair out of her eyes and continued down the walk.

  Clink!

  The noise came from across the street. Destiny glanced over. Other than the sound of a barking dog in close proximity, she couldn’t detect any other presence. She was surprised the street was as quiet, devoid of activity. She swallowed and picked up her steps, humming to herself as she crossed an alleyway. Another rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Even with the streetlights glowing from every corner, the darkness was foreboding. The moonless night held no stars.

  Tick! Clank!

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up on end. She stopped briefly and turned in a circle. Several beads of perspiration trickled down the back of her neck. What if Michael was going to make good on his… No, he hadn’t made any overt threats, at least not exactly. You’re losing it. Keep moving. She nodded, suppressing a moan, and pulled her briefcase to her chest as she continued her trek.

  After a few seconds of hearing nothing else, she slowed her pace.

  “Destiny…”

  Stopping short, she bit back a scream. The wind had to be playing tricks on her. No one was around, certainly not a soul who knew she was here, unless… Terror raced through her as the breeze whistled through the dense foliage. With less than two blocks to go, she took off running, her high heels hindering her progress.

  “Destiny…”

  She could swear she heard footsteps behind her, keeping pace if not closing in. Darting a glance over her shoulder, she could see nothing but blackness. She stumbled and lost her footing, almost falling to the ground. Pain shifted into her ankle. Keep going. Don’t stop. Adrenaline kicked in. Sprinting down the last block, she fumbled to find her house key, panting as she bounded up onto her front porch. Please. Please God help me.

  One, two, three seconds later she managed to slam the key into the lock, twisting the doorknob just as she heard cackling laughter. Once inside, she slid the bolt into place and backed into the shadows of her hallway, gulping for air. She half expected the glass pane on her front door to shatter, monsters scrambling through to drag her into Hell. When the only noise was that of a passing car, she breathed a sigh of relief as well as chastising herself for blatant stupidity. She’d never been afraid of any of her patients and she refused to start now.

  Boom!

  As the lightning bolt flashed, illuminating the entire foyer, she jumped then laughed. “Idiot.”

  He’s coming for you. He’s…

  Goose bumps popped along every inch of naked skin. She bit her lip and counted to five. Easing her briefcase to the floor, she switched on the hallway light, blinking in relief as the warm light washed down over her. She was home and there was no boogeyman chasing her. Laughing, she walked into the kitchen, flipping on the light under her sink. Her half-consumed bottle of wine was exactly where she’d left it, a comforting thought. She grabbed a glass and poured the crystal stem half full, hesitated for a second then filled the thin crystal to the rim. Tonight, she needed to get away from work, if only for a little while.

  But they’re dead. Dead!

  Trickles of fear remained, and she was determined to figure out if there was any connection in the two victims. She took a gulp of wine. After a few seconds, she was able to calm her nerves. Kicking off her shoes she exhaled, glad to be home.

  Tap! Tap! Tap!

  The knock on the front door startled her.

  Boom!

  Destiny swung around, glaring down the hall as the crack of lightning shone brightly behind her door. The ominous figure was highlighted just enough to illuminate a hulking presence. She grabbed a knife from the butcher block, half choking as she walked down the hall. As if a cheap, thin blade could keep away a murderer. Then again, as if he or she would be knocking on her door.

  “Yes?”

  “Dr. Blade? Detective Givens. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

  She hesitated and took a step to the side. Go away. Go away!

  “I’d like a few minutes of your time.” The tone of his voice was soothing. “Just to talk. Nothing more.”

  “I’m…I’m busy.”

  “With all due respect. I know you just got home.”

  Sighing, she unlocked and opened the door. The man standing in front of her eyed the knife in her hand and held both of his arms into the air.

  “Ma ‘am. May I show you my badge?”

  Destiny exhaled and shook her head as she scanned the area around him. Nothing seemed amiss. “Yes, and I’m sorry. I thought I was being followed earlier. I just…” I’m just losing my mind. Lowering the knife, she was surprised the sickening feeling remained. I’m being watched.

  You’re never far from my heart and soul because you belong to me…

  She bit her lower lip. He was here. He was… “What can I do for you, detective?”

  As the detective pulled out a wallet, flipping open to show her his badge, he looked over his shoulder. “We need to talk. I think you may be able to help me.” He held out his other hand, an offering of peace.

  The moment they touched the visions returned. Only this time, they were intimate.

  Come to me and don’t be late. I abhor disrespect and punish severely.

  His last words lingered in her mind, his command clear. She waited outside, gazing up at the darkened sky for several minutes. Exhausted, the last thing she wanted to do was perform for yet another man. Unfortunately, she needed the money. The late-night offer was more than twice what she was used to receiving and the extra dollars would allow her to sleep easily for at least a little while. She’d promised herself she’d get out of the profession. What profession? She was a glorified hooker. Granted, she craved the strangled hold of a man, hungered to feel the slice of a whip. For a few seconds she remained quiet, sliding into her submissive persona.

  She’d hadn’t been able to comprehend why her previous relationships hadn’t lasted more than a year at best until a friend had introduced her to a kink club. She’d never forget the night. After only an hour of being a voyeur, she’d felt comfortable enough to be tied to a pole, whipped by several men, the thin leather straps leaving welts. The thought remained as one of her favorites.

  Shuddering, she took one last puff on her cigarette, tossing the butt and grounding out the ember. Nerves were the only reason she was smoking. Delving into her kinky side had given her a new perspective on life. She could never tell her friends what she was doing. They certainly couldn’t handle her rather insane proclivities. Right now, she didn’t give a shit. This was a fix, one she desperately needed. The money kept her living in her high-dollar condominium.

  Glancing up the length of the driveway, she was grateful there was lighting every few feet, illuminating the way. She never parked close, preferring to keep every aspect of her private life just that. She shifted and the thin coat scraped against her nearly naked ass, sending a shot of pain into her torso. The previous session had been fairly brutal.

  The house was large but had seen better years. She was surprised given the men she’d grown accustomed to serving.

  She closed the distance to the front door, brushing her hands through her hair before pressing the doorbell. When the door opened, she wasn’t surprised he wore a leather hood, black pants and boots, along with a leather vest. His appearance was typical of what she’d encountered in the various BDSM establishments. The Dom’s were usually older, generally rich and almost half unmarried. The darker the needs, the more likely they were to be alone. Those choosing to hide their identities were some of the most powerful men in the world.

  “Sir.” She kept her voice quiet, her actions demur. There was a distinct smell to the house, a woody and earthy combination that made her stomach rumble with nausea. She bit back bile and stole a quick glance around the perimeter. Wall sconces adorned the long hallway, each leading to what led to a glowing space, warm and inviting.

  He nodded and opened the door all the way, ushering her inside. Lifting his arm, he twirled his finger in a circular fashion.

  Obeying, she turned in a circle, allowing him to see all of her.

  “Remove your coat.” His voice was husky.

  “Yes, Sir.” She slid the coat from her shoulders and instantly the chill in the air gave her goose bumps. As she turned back around, he grabbed the material from her hand.

  He pointed down the hall and nodded. “We will begin immediately.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She couldn’t tell if he was behind her or not. Only her stilettos clipped against the marble floor, no other sound. Smoothing down the front of her suede skirt, the requested attire, she held her head high, making sure she didn’t slip and fall on the slick surface. She stopped just as she entered a kitchen, uncertain of where to go. The gleaming space was functional yet showed little sign of life or activity. There were no appliances housed on the counters, no papers or magazines. While crystal stems gleamed through glass front cabinet doors, there was no indication they’d been used in the recent past. She gulped as she felt the pressure from his hand on the small of her back.

  Pushing her forward, he pointed toward a bank of wooden doors.

  She heard a jangle of keys and closed her eyes, her right leg quivering. The house was far too silent for her tastes. Noise was a constant in her world.

  Reaching around her, he slipped a key into the lock. She was taken inside a room full of mirrors, the old-fashioned pedestal kind covering nearly every inch of free wall space. Only a fireplace remained as a central focal point. That and the gleaming silver cage positioned in the middle of the room.

  Inhaling, she was intrigued. The majority of Doms wanted rounds of punishment. This man, her Dom would start with confinement. She was breathless with excited anticipation. Being caged was her ultimate fantasy. The intimacy was not for everyone, but she craved being treated like an animal, a pet to stroke and use.

  He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, kneading as he lowered his head. His hot breath cascaded across her cheek. She was instantly at peace, realizing what was required of her. She needed no further direction. Without turning around, she unbuttoned her skirt, wiggling the material down from her hips. He never let go, didn’t utter a word. As she untied her corset she glanced around the room. From every vantage point he would be able to see her in her submissive state. In truth, she’d be nothing more than a slave. Naked, she stood quietly, her hands at her sides.

  Breathing out, his grip tightened around her neck, his fingers digging in. He kicked her legs apart and forced her to lean over. Using a single finger, he rubbed the tip down her spine then tapped her right buttocks. “Open your ass cheeks.”

  This time she was able to detect a slight accent. She balanced on her heels, placing her hands behind her back. There was nothing more intimate than exposing her asshole. Hearing his deep sigh, she smiled as she spread her legs further.

  He rubbed her back for a few additional seconds before dipping his hand between her legs, fingering her cunt. “Wet.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Obedient.”

  “Of course, Sir,” she whispered. The pressure of his thumb against her puckered hole made her suck in her breath.

  Slipping his thumb inside, he exhaled and gripped her shoulder as he wiggled his finger. “Tight little whore.” Alongside his thumb he added a second then third finger, flexing them open as he thrust in as deeply as he was able.

  She gritted her teeth, pain washing with pure bliss. Panting, she resisted moaning as he explored her dark crevice. Her legs shook as he held her still, his forth finger becoming a fifth, coming close to fisting her.

  “You’re a good whore. I’m very pleased.”

  His voice was pleasant and almost familiar, a warm seduction of tone and desire lacing every word. A part of her wanted to know who he was and how she knew him. Another simply didn’t give a shit. This was her place in the world, a born submissive.

  He continued plunging as his nails dug into her flesh. When he released, yanking his fingers from her asshole, he patted her on the ass. His grip remaining, he pushed her toward the cage until she was just a foot away. “Stay.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The draw of the cage gave her tingles. From where she stood, she could see him sauntering toward what appeared to be a cabinet. What lurked behind the closed wooden doors was far too enticing. She was unable to see what he was doing for a few seconds. When he twisted his body, showing her the curved metal hook, she moaned.

  Chuckling darkly, he walked toward the cage, releasing the clasp. “Climb inside.”

  She swallowed and dared a glance at the mirrors. Every reflection showed off her body, the way her hair fell down below her shoulders. Crawling into the confined space, she widened her legs and palmed the metal bottom, instantly shivering. The moment the cold steel was thrust into her asshole she gasped.

  “You need to keep your place, princess.”

  No one called her princess, no man. Desire embroiled every nerve. Hot. Damn she was hot.

  Click. Clang.

  She knew the opposite end was being secured to the steel bars on the top. Her nerves on edge, she imagined exactly what he was going to do next. Whip her. Use her. Fuck her. There was nothing she didn’t crave. Every concept of being imprisoned, under the strict control of a masterful Dom, had entered her dreams. Even in the daylight hours she wanted nothing more than to be owned, collared by a man who had the power to control her.