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purchased eye candy. From what he’d heard, those who returned to Vegas with her were used as appetizers to draw in female customers at her ranch. Some became dancers and others worked security. She paid top dollar at the auction for the best-looking men who would obey her every whim.
    A year ago, Madame Bree, a voluptuous redhead, had told him he was too nice to make it in Vegas. At first, he’d thought she was feeding him a line. But from all he’d heard about her ranch, coupled with the fact she constantly replenished her stable, he believed he’d dodged a bullet. To this day, he appreciated her honesty and the kindness she always showed him.
    He smiled and nodded to the Dommes who looked up at him.
    A chill skittered down his back as he encountered the thoughtful gaze of Mistress Angel. Without question, she was beautiful, with long blond hair, bright blue eyes, a face and body that could belong to any Victoria’s Secret model. The shiny catsuit she wore had a plunging neckline revealing all but the peaks of her ample breasts. It hugged her hips like a seasoned lover and ended abruptly at the tops of high-heeled boots. Beneath her boot lay one of the auction submissives.
    Marcus met her gaze. She smiled at him. He nodded. Mistress Angel was anything but. He was surprised she’d made the cut this year. Her beauty had lured many of the new subs into her web. Those, like him, who had been around a while, avoided her sharp tongue as much as possible. She had a reputation of being a sadistic bitch who specialized in excessive humiliation and degradation, most times in public. Rumor had it she chose if she’d honor safe words when she had a sub under the lash or locked in bondage.
    The first time they’d met she told him that her sub was a possession, like her car, house, or clothes. She’d said she cared for them all, in a way, but they were expendable and should be updated regularly. He had told her they’d clash. He required honesty, honor, and respect. She’d frowned at him and stalked off.
    He nodded respectfully. If she won him, he would honor the auction and serve her for the next twenty-four hours, but he would never be her submissive afterward. He strode to the side of the room where the refreshments were. Feeling her gaze on him, he gulped down his punch and then choked when it went down the wrong way.
    “Are you okay?” A woman with a lilting voice asked as she slapped the middle of his back.
    His face warmed. “I’m fine, thank you…” he looked at her name tag, “Mistress Em.” The top of her head reached his shoulder.
    She nodded and turned away.
    “May I serve you? Something to drink or eat perhaps?” he asked as soon as he could breathe. The gentle sway of her hips entreated him to get to know her better.
    She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “Some punch and maybe something sweet.” She pursed her lips as though she could taste whatever he would bring her. “Surprise me.”
    The gauzy beige, pink, and green print dress flowed around her knees as she moved slowly toward a table. Bangle bracelets went halfway up one of her arms. There were a few chains around her neck. Tinkling sounds accompanied her movements and he smiled.
    Her demeanor, her attire, and her smile reminded him of a teacher he’d had in elementary school. Ms. Barber . Whenever the small woman crossed his mind she was inevitably accompanied with visions of Tinker Bell and fairy dust. She always seemed to float around the room and wore bangles on her arm and told whimsical stories that always had him on the edge of his seat. She had ignited his love for fantasy and science fiction. Twenty-some years later, his love for graphic design was the result.
    Marcus looked at all the items on the table, the dishes artfully placed and garnished, and realized he had no clue what a lot of it was. Why couldn’t food just look like plain food? Out the corner of his eye, he saw Michelle holding a tray, and waved him