A Dominant Fallen (A Dominant Series Book 2) by Lena Black Page A

weakly.
    “Do you like the idea?”
    I turn to him. “I love being your sub. I love pleasing you, but…”
    “But?” he asks with eager curiosity, though he tries to hide it.
    “But, there’s a part of me that wonders if I’ve seen just how dominant you can be,” I admit candidly. “I know you won’t hurt me, but your need to control is so overwhelming. If this is how you are now, what will you be like when I give into you?”
    “Once again, you’re seeing this as a cage, not a way out of the one you’re already in.” I can see the frustration on his face, but his voice remains collected.
    The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. He turns away from me and grabs my hand, yanking me out into the underground garage.
    “We’ll discuss this later,” he states, hauling me toward the waiting black Land Rover.
     
    H unt remains silent as Banks drives us down Van Ness, staring contemplatively out the window with his chin resting in his palm. I take the time to think and run through everything that just happened in my head. I open my clutch and glide my fingers over the cool, smooth metal, feeling Hunt’s name etched in its hard surface.
    Hunt’s does have a nice ring to it. His to do with as he pleases. Mmmm.
    My thoughts are suddenly on our last night together, at the dungeon, bound and helpless, his to possess. My reveries are abruptly ripped through by Hunt’s voice. “Are you afraid of me?”
    I stare at him with a perplexed expression on my face, though the car is dark, so he doesn’t seem to notice. “Are you serious?”
    “Of course, I am.”
    “No, Hunt, I’m not afraid of you,” I answer. “I’m afraid that I won’t be a good sub, I won’t please you the way the others did. What if I can’t do it?”
    “Then, we go back to the way things were before,” he states in a nonchalant tone. “You did enjoy that, correct?”
    “Yes, greatly.”
    “That’s what I thought,” he replies, turning his head to stare back out the window. The headlight’s of passing cars occasionally flash across his wounded face.
    How could he be upset that I didn’t accept his proposal of submission? He must’ve known I would need time…Maybe he was hoping it would be different this time, hoping our time apart would affect my decision and how quickly I gave it. I want to keep some sense of independence, but I also want to give him all of me, give him everything he desires.
    “We’ve arrived, sir,” Banks announces, interrupting my dazed state. I actually forgot he was there.
    “Thank you, Banks.” Hunt exits the vehicle, never glancing at me. He walks around to let me out, offering me a hand. I step out and smell the clean, sweet scent of the city after a long rain. I glance up at the massive white Beaux-Arts structure before me and realize we are at the War Memorial Opera House.
    I stare at Hunt with a huge grin plastered to my face once I spot the large banner hanging above us.
     
    A Night with Tchaikovsky
     
    He smiles back at me, pleased with himself.
    “How did you know I love Tchaikovsky?” I inquire with delighted wonder.
    “When I want information,” he says with a seductive tone, “I have my ways of obtaining it.”
    “Once again, Hunt, you’ve managed to amaze me. Well played.”
    He chortles. “Thank you, gorgeous.”
    He bends an arm, offering it to me, and I take it willingly. We walk inside to the enormous lobby with an intricately carved, arched ceiling. The space is packed full of people dressed in their finest. Men in tuxedos and women in long evening gowns, their makeup perfect, every hair in place. The conversation about the vast hall is a dull roar, just loud enough to have to speak directly into each other’s ear.
    Hunt leans in and remarks, “I can’t believe how absolutely ravishing you are, tonight.”
    I smirk up at him, and he returns the gesture and grabs two flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing server, handing one to me. He holds out his flute and