Free Passion's Hope (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 3) by Julie Shelton Page A

invitation tangled up with the clothes she’d grabbed off his bed. At first, she’d nearly ripped it up and thrown it away, but was grateful she hadn’t when she’d discovered that, without adding too many miles to her journey, she could go through Marshall’s Creek on her way to the audition. She’d be able to stock up on what were bound to be very tasty hors d’oeuvres without having to part with any of her dwindling supply of cash. Afterward, she’d drive the rest of the way to Charleston, clean up in a gas station or fast food restaurant’s bathroom, and spend the next couple of days looking for a job and sleeping in her car until Saturday’s audition. She’d actually been shocked when the armored knights at the club’s entrance had simply scanned the invitation and passed her right on through.
    So, here she was. A woman on a mission. She was already in. Now she just had to get food, get out and get on her way. Simple enough, right? Squaring her shoulders, she walked with a sense of purpose through the crowded common room toward the food tables, replacing her empty champagne glass with a full one from a passing tray.
    As she walked forward, a sort of whispering hush seemed to ripple across the room and all heads, including Charlie’s turned toward her left. A door opened and two men dressed in black leather entered the room. And what men they were! Oh. My. God! One of them was the size of a grizzly bear. At least six feet eight inches tall with rippling muscles, bulging biceps, prominent pecs and sculpted abs most men would kill for. His broad shoulders and chest led downward to a narrow waist and hips. He was covered with black, primitive-looking tattoos, His thick, shaggy black hair was collar-length. The three-day growth of beard made him look almost…diabolical. He was mesmerizing and Charlie couldn’t look away. He was leading a petite woman on a leash, who walked behind him with her head held high, pride in every step she took, despite the fact that she was completely naked. A second man followed behind the woman. Younger than the lead man, he was also at least four inches shorter, which made him around six feet four, still a very sizeable hunk of a man. And he was a hunk. His brown hair was also thick and shaggy, falling down over his forehead. His square jaw could have been carved from stone.
    The two men led the woman up three steps onto a dais that contained a square frame made from what appeared to be beams recycled from a barn. While the shorter man fastened her wrists to the upper corners of the frame, the satanic one hunkered down and fastened her ankles, leaving her spread-eagled in the center of the frame.
    Another rippling buzz of conversation caught Charlie’s attention and she turned back toward the left to see two more supremely masculine men following the same path the first two had taken. One was dark, with Native American features, the other was blond. Both wore leather trousers and chest harnesses. They both carried black leather floggers, swishing the falls against their legs as they walked. Charlie had to remind herself to breathe. These four men were the sexiest things she had ever laid eyes on, and all her girlie parts jumped up and took notice.
    Stop that! You’re here to get food and get out! You’re not here to admire the scenery. But she couldn’t make herself look away. As the second two men climbed up the steps onto the dais, the first two tugged gold-colored arm bands up onto their biceps. Charlie was familiar enough with BDSM Club protocol to know that the arm bands signified that they were Dungeon Monitors, responsible for the safety of everyone in attendance. They turned and stepped down, but they didn’t leave the area. They stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned around to watch their friends approach their captive slave, sandwiching her between them, the dark-haired one at her front, and the blond at her back, pressing her between their bodies.
    The one in