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D arius stared at the ass with a combination of amusement and sense of being creeped out.

He’d thought Ian was kidding when he’d handed him the “Butt-in-a-Box,” as the head Dom had called it.

It was a silicone covered “ass” that reminded Darius of the same stuff that CPR dummies were made of.

He was supposed to use it to practice spanking his sub.

If he hit it too softly, a digital female voice would say “harder,” while a red light lit up on the attached control box.

If he hit it too hard, he’d get an “ouch” and the red light again.

Just right, and the damn thing would moan while giving him a green light.

Seriously? Who thought up shit like this?

Someone with too much time on their hands, probably.

“Are you going to take it out of the box or just stare at it all evening?”

Tahira had joined him in a sitting room attached to his bedroom after they’d shared a nice dinner while discussing what they’d learned at the club.

She seemed much more comfortable talking about it when it was just the two of them.

While they would need to continue to train at the club, Darius knew most of their D/s relationship would take place at home.

Neither of them was an exhibitionist, although they were both, apparently, a bit voyeuristic.

He’d been surprised when Tahira had confessed to getting turned on when Devon had spanked Kristen, which he’d admitted he’d found arousing as well.

He glanced at her to see a cheeky grin on her face. She loved this. “Keep it up, Princess. Soon this thing will be replaced with your backside.”

“I am willing to try that after you practice a bit. Are you going to name ‘her’?”

He snorted loudly. “Not.”

Sighing, he took the life-sized ass out of the box. “You’re going to watch me do this?”

Her giggling warmed his heart. She was putting the rape further and further from her mind as time passed and was laughing more lately.

While he knew she was still having some nightmares and some waking flashbacks—she was coming to him for comfort now when they occurred—she was getting back to her old self.

Well, not really. Her old self had been cute and nice.

This newer version of Tahira was someone who stirred Darius’s heart and soul.

He was falling in love with her—hell, he was already there.

Did she feel the same? In another place and time, could they have made a marriage work?

It would be difficult to let her go when the time came, but it would be even worse to see her fall in love with some jackass who Darius would want to kill for just breathing the same air as Tahira.

“Of course. As you said, it is my ass that will be replacing it soon, so I think watching will help me prepare for it.”

She’d been tittering her way through her words, and Darius couldn’t suppress his own laughter.

Taking a seat next to her on the small sofa, he set the contraption on his thighs.

Tahira grabbed the control box from where it had been hanging down the side of his leg by its cord, stood, and plugged it into the wall next to the couch.

As she sat beside him again, she flipped the “On” switch. “She is ready when you are.”

He glared at her. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”

Her smile dropped, and sadness filled her eyes.

Darius wanted to kick his own ass when she said, “Before my abduction and rape, I enjoyed all the fun in my life. I want that back, Darius. You make me smile and laugh. You make me remember the joys in life. I will not let those bastards win. I am taking back everything they tried to strip from me. You have helped me with some of it, but I must take control of my life in for me to live it like I wanted to before everything had changed. I am grateful I only remember bits and pieces of what was done to me. I wish Lahana was the same—she said she remembers everything.”

“You spoke to her again?”

She shook her head, sadly. “No. She is still refusing to answer my calls or texts. Nala told me. She said Lahana is still angry that you rescued me in time and no one stopped him from raping her.”

“But I wasn’t in time.” He moved the artificial ass from his lap to the floor, then shifted his hips to face her. He cupped her cheek. “I’m sorry I—”

“No, Darius. Do not apologize again. None of what happened was your fault. In fact, you saved me from a worse fate. Lahana had been with him for hours and look how she was returned to us—bruises all over her. I only had a few. He was probably going to rape me again, and you stopped him from doing so.”

No matter how many times she told him it wasn’t his fault, he would forever carry the guilt of not reaching her before that fucking bastard defiled her.

While he would never be able to make it up to her, he could at least try.

Lowering his head to hers, he kissed and licked her mouth, encouraging her to open for him.

As their tongues dueled, he pulled her onto his lap—to hell with the fake ass; he wanted the real thing.

Positioning her until she was straddling him, he molded his hands to her butt cheeks and squeezed.

Over the years, he’d played some light “slap and tickle” with many women, but he’d never made any of them cry.

After his conversations with his Dom buddies and Dr. Dunbar and some research, he now knew making Tahira cry, during BDSM play, could be very cathartic for her.

She didn’t need to be “on” with him—pasting a false smile on her face and pretending everything was fine.

Behind closed doors, she was free to be just Tahira—woman, friend, lover.

Her royal title wasn’t necessary in this setting, and he honestly believed she preferred it that way.

While he wouldn’t lay a sharp hand on her ass just yet, not without practice, getting her used to him touching her so intimately was a good place to start.

Damn, he was going to need his second or third—he’d lost count—cold shower of the day after this.

* * *

Timasur: Forty-eight hours before the royal wedding ...

“There you are!”

Tahira glanced over her shoulder at Darius’s exasperated tone and grinned.

He’d been getting lost in the palace over the past two days, complaining about needing breadcrumbs to find his way—after all there were five floors, eighty rooms, about half as many corridors, multiple staircases, and two elevators in the place.

Add in a few secret passageways she’d loved to play in as a child, and still did on occasion, it was the ultimate place to play hide and seek, if one desired.

The palace sat on twenty-five acres of manicured lawns and maze-like gardens.

It was gorgeous, but Tahira had always preferred the vacation home nestled in the mountains two hours north of Diado, Timasur’s capital city.

It was there she’d felt more like the average person—there’d been a lot less bowing and catering to the royal family there.

Her parents were more relaxed there too.

Tahira could recall having campouts and climbing trees with her brother and cousins.

Darius stopped next to her and threw up his hands in frustration. “I seriously need a map for this place. I’m military, Tahira. Maps and GPSs are standard equipment for me. Who do I see to get the floor plans of this place? I’m not averse to bribery at this point.”

Laughing, she linked their arms together and led him toward the nearest staircase.

“I was just on my way to see my bridesmaids getting their last fittings, but that can wait a few minutes. So, come with me. Amar keeps copies in the security office. I am certain you will qualify as a person who can be trusted not to publicize them.”

“Cross my heart. Your secrets are safe with me.”

Despite his joking manner, it was true. Her secrets would always be safe with Darius. He was an honorable man, and she trusted him with all her heart.

The palace staff was busier than it had been in a long time.

Last minute preparations were being made for the weekend’s festivities.

Friday would be the traditional, ethnic wedding, held in the gardens behind the palace, while Saturday’s nuptials would take place at the city’s main cathedral.

The public and press would be lining the streets to catch a glimpse of Tahira on her way to be married and then again when the couple left the cathedral to attend the reception, at a nearby venue.

Many of the over four hundred guests were royal family members and politicians from European and African countries.

If this had been the full-scale celebration Tahira had fought against, the number of attendees would’ve crested the one thousand mark.

Even though the guest list had been carefully culled, Tahira’s and Darius’s friends and family would all be in attendance.

Some had flown in from the United States yesterday and this morning, while a few more were scheduled to arrive tomorrow.

Although, Ian had insisted Angie get her obstetrician’s permission to fly across the Atlantic Ocean in Trident’s private jet, five weeks before her due date.

Tahira had assured the couple the best doctors in the city would be on call in case, God forbid, the woman went into premature labor.

Ian had been showing signs of stress until Brody had pointed out that if “Little Bit” was born in Timasur, he or she would have dual citizenship.

For some reason, the expectant father had gotten a kick out of that and seemed more at ease ever since.