Her Secret Dom by Samantha Cote

puffs turned into dainty snores, he smothered a huff of laughter. She’d once asked him if she snored, and he outright lied, swearing she slept like a proper lady. She’d looked so relieved he silently vowed never to mention she also talked in her sleep.
    She shivered, then wiggled into the circle of his arms. Her sigh of contentment reached his ears. He tucked her head under his chin and reflected on recent events.
    Even now, he couldn’t believe this beautiful creature had chosen him above all others to be her first lover. Although a bit repressed and shy, she had shown him an unbridled passion he’d hoped to see but hadn’t dared to expect.
    Little by little, she was unraveling.
    Then she’d given him the greatest gift imaginable. Her trust. Not only with her body. Tonight, she’d disclosed to him her secret desires, and her need for submission.
    It had taken a true leap of faith for her to bare her soul like that.
    Did he, a seasoned warrior, possess such courage?
    Yes, he decided as the sweet tugs of slumber pulled him under. Soon, he would tell her everything, no matter what the cost…
    * * * *
    The mournful keening rent the sultry night. He watched in despair as the old man crouched over the small body as if to shield her from further harm. Reaching out, he shook the man’s arm in a silent request. The elder complied and shifted the limp body in his arms to show the damage. Long black spirals of hair parted to reveal the ashen tone of her skin, the ghastly pallor of her face a stark contrast to the crimson trail trickling over the rounded cheek.
    A little scarlet pool formed on the dusty ground under her head.
    Another bloodied innocent.
    The rest of the unit rushed toward their fallen comrade, who lay a few feet away, thrashing in agony. They wrapped his torn leg and prepared for evacuation as he pleaded for his mother and for death.
    Soon, they turned to him, their leader.
    Should we go?
    He glanced at the older man, who now stood with the tiny bundle in his arms. Answering his unspoken question, the elder whispered low, “Get out while you can.”
    A distant murmur caught everyone’s attention. Soon, the murmurs turned into angry rumbles and shouts.
    “Retreat!” Jared roared.
    The team hurried westward toward the dying sun, half sliding down the dusty knoll in their haste. Parked nearby, the jeeps promised sanctuary. He glanced over his shoulder. The villagers stood on the crest of the hill, their faces contorted with rage.
    Finally, the unit reached level land. They ran faster. Instead of getting closer, though, the jeeps seemed to fade into the sunset.
    A mirage?
    The voices were getting closer, and he dropped to the back of the line. Should any of them catch up, they’d have to get through him first.
    Just ahead and to his left, something solid struck Mahoney in the back of the head with a sickening crunch. Helmetless, the man dropped like a stone. With barely a pause, Jared lifted Mahoney and tossed him over his shoulder.
    They were parked one hundred feet away. Some of the men were climbing into the vehicles while others were already racing their jeeps toward the sunset.
    Tossing the unconscious man into the front seat, he then ordered Falcone to step on the gas. As they peeled away, a thump sounded in the back. A knife tore through the canvas, inches away from his position in the tiny backseat.
    The knife disappeared, then reemerged between a villager’s teeth. Like the knife, the dark eyes glittered with evil intent. Jared swung, and blood sprayed from the villager’s nose as it collapsed under his closed fist. The knife wielder hung on stubbornly until Jared’s booted foot struck him in the face. He somersaulted from the moving vehicle, his rapid descent creating a crimson arc in the air before he landed in the dust.
    He didn’t move again.
    Shouts faded into the distance. Gasping, Jared sat and looked down at his bruised, bloodied hands.
    His fault. Not his bullet but still his