Freeing Rowan (Masters Club 3)

She extended both hands. He accepted them, trying not to dwell again on how well they fit into his, or the warm current of desire that slid over his skin like a flame at her touch.

He wasn’t at all sure things were going to go as smoothly as she seemed to expect, but he kept his own counsel, for now.

Instead, taking a step back, he managed a smile in return. “I’m glad I could help, Rowan. Truly.”

Damn it. He wasn’t ready to let her go. It occurred to him he didn’t have to—not just yet.

He glanced again at his watch. “I’ve got a training session at my dungeon in about an hour. It’s actually not far from where you’re headed. How about we walk together?”

In fact, the dungeon was close to Union Square, and her friend’s place was a good mile out of his way, but he could always hop on the bus or call an Uber once they’d parted company. He held his breath as he waited for her reply.

“Sure,” she said. “I’d like that.”

~*~

They didn’t talk much as they walked together along the city blocks. It felt so odd to just be outside on her own, no collar around her neck, no Master John by her side. There was going to be fallout, no question about that. But like Eric had said—she’d taken the first step. She’d made the decision to get herself free.

“This is the place,” she said eventually, stopping in front of the address Sheri had texted her. She turned to Eric. “Thanks again, for everything. I’m going to pay you back. I’d love to paint your portrait one day—a sky portrait.” She could already imagine the colors—gold and rose blending into shades of blue-green.

“Nothing to pay back,” he replied. “The only thing I ask is that we stay in touch. I want to know you’re okay. You’ve got my number, but I don’t have yours.”

Rowan at once pulled out her phone and opened her text app. Though the phone had only charged to twelve percent at his place, it was enough for her to send a quick text to his phone. “Now you do,” she said with a smile.

Eric’s phone dinged in his jeans pocket. He smiled. “Perfect. I’ll get in touch with my buddy with the van and let you know.”

“Thanks.”

During her text exchange with Sheri, her friend had given Rowan the code to the building and asked her elderly next-door neighbor who kept her spare key to let Rowan into the apartment.

Now Rowan punched in the code. When the lock released with a buzz, she pushed the door open and turned once more to face Eric. She was suddenly reluctant to let him go, even though she knew he had an appointment to get to.

He really was an amazing guy—dropping everything to come out and get her, offering his place and even now, walking with her to Sheri’s to make sure she got there okay. The guy was a gentleman, through and through.

During their brief time together at the Masters Club, he’d helped her come to a new understanding of what a consensual BDSM relationship ought to be. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if he’d been the one to initiate her into the intensity of a total power exchange, instead of John Garfield.

But that was precisely why she had to get away from him. Eric had seen her at her very worst—frightened, confused and still caught in the thrall of Master John’s control. He no doubt viewed her as a wounded bird, and who could blame him? If she gave in to her desire to curl into his arms and let him save her, she would lose her newfound resolve to reclaim herself. And the last thing she wanted was to be anybody’s BDSM charity case. What she needed was some distance from the whole scene, at least for a while, and that included Eric.

“Thanks again,” she managed.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he replied.

Once up in Sheri’s apartment, Rowan found a charger and plugged in her phone. She wasn’t quite ready to get into a discussion with John about getting her stuff back. Her new resolve notwithstanding, she didn’t think she had the strength yet to face his possible anger. It was better to give him a few days to calm down and accept that she was truly gone.

Armed with Sheri’s spare key, she left the building again, this time headed to a nearby drug store and a thrift store they’d passed on their walk. She still had thirty dollars in her purse, along with a credit card that had a few thousand dollars of credit available on it.

When she returned with her meager purchases, she took a shower and then lay down to rest on the twin bed in the tiny spare room where she would be staying for a while. It had been a long, difficult twenty-four hours. Though she’d never been able to take naps except when she was sick, she thought she’d just rest for an hour or so.