Gentling the Submissive

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2019 Zoey Marcel

ISBN: 978-1-77339-875-4

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Karyn White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

GENTLING THE SUBMISSIVE

Masters of Black Dragon, 2

Zoey Marcel

Copyright © 2019

Prologue

Lexington, Kentucky—Summer, 2006

Just like your father. It was never a good thing when his mother said that.

Jason Adkins sat on the porch steps and pried his eyes off the acceptance letter he'd gotten months earlier to pin them to her. How's that?

She shook her head. Just decided to abandon your girlfriend to go to your fancy Northeastern college. Have you even told Miranda?

Not yet, but we can work something out.

So, you expect her to just cancel her plans and go with you?

His father snorted, lighting a cigar from on the porch-swing. As if she's smart enough to get into Princeton.

Jason felt all the teenage fury of seventeen. Don't talk like that about her.

His dad's eyes narrowed, cigar pausing midair as if he were contemplating chucking him off the porch. Watch your mouth, boy.

His mom glared at the man she'd married for some reason. Women can get into Princeton.

His father clenched the cigar between his teeth. That's exactly why he should wait. If he holds out, he can get an educated woman. Seems I read somewhere that the most beautiful women in the country were in the Northeast.

She put her hands on her hips. What were you doing reading about where the most beautiful women allegedly are when you're already taken?

He smirked coldly. Why don't you get inside and do what you're good at, or do you intend to let the boy starve?

You can, she spat.

I'm not abandoning Miranda for Jersey girls, Jason said. I'm gonna ask her to marry me.

He could've heard ants marching through blades of grass in that silence. Both parents gawked at him like he was the epitome of absurdity.

Jason shrugged. What?

You're making a mistake, his father warned. She's your first girlfriend. You have no idea what else is out there. Take it from someone who's been up there.

You're damn right he's making a mistake, his mother agreed. You can't expect that poor girl to have a long-distance relationship. Tie her down and keep her faithful to you while you play the field in college. Is that how it is?

Atta boy, his dad said.

No, Jason replied. We'll be loyal to each other.

His father took the cigar from his mouth to admire it. Like hell she will.

Miranda's a fine girl. She deserves the best life has to offer, his mom said indignantly.

And I'm gonna give it to her. I'll make good money as a psychologist, Jason replied.

Jesus, his father muttered. Why can't you be a doctor or a lawyer? Hell, even STEM would work. Probing people's brains sounds like the kind of antagonistic bullshit your mother would do. She put you up to that degree?

Keep talking like that and I'll poison your food. She went inside, slamming the screen door. You've got bad blood in you. She deserves better than you. Go earn your fancy degree.

His father shook his head, rolling his eyes. Don't listen to her. She talks nonsense, but we'll order out tonight.

I'm not hungry, Jason said.

His dad went indoors, and Jason was finally left to himself. The setting sun was a picturesque fusion of hot-pink, smoky purple, and faint peach. He sighed when he heard his parents yelling and cursing at each other. Thank God he and his girlfriend weren't like that. He loved her so much. Long distance relationships were rumored to be difficult, but they'd beat the odds. Miranda was sixteen and said she wanted to attend college here in Kentucky, but when she started missing him and graduated, he'd sweet-talk her into coming up there to be with him.

"You've got bad blood in you. She deserves better than you."

Jason's self-esteem plummeted. He wasn't like his old man. He was better than that. Not like his mom was much better.

He looked like his father. Same brown hair and gray eyes. His mother insisted they were blue, anything to have him not be like her husband. Dad was adamant that Jason's eyes were gray like his. They'd fight over it and he had to reassure them that they were both right and his eyes were blue-gray, but in reality, they were gray.

Who told you that you could read? his dad shouted from in the house.

Well, I can't with your big mouth flapping, can I? his mother shrieked.

He'd had enough. Jason started walking, flipping open his phone and texted Miranda. Meet me in the orchard at your place.

He got in his big blue pickup truck and drove into the country.

It's almost dinner. They'll wonder where I am. Her text bugged him. He needed her now, damn it.

Make something up.

She didn't reply. What was she doing?

He texted back. Hello?

Don't be rude.

Who's the one not answering?

Fine, I'll meet you.

He parked down the road to keep Miranda's brothers from seeing. The three Langley men were civil to him, but they'd let it be known on more than one occasion that they'd tan his hide if he touched her. He'd done more than touch her. He took her virginity. They were each other's first.

He hid in the orchard beneath a canopy of green, a bed of fallen red and yellow crabapples carpeting the ground. Their fruity fragrance perfumed the air, but he knew better than to sample the tart little fuckers. A dusky symphony of crickets and katydids was a serene successor to the ballad of hatred that filled the halls of his house.

He smiled fondly when he saw his little firecracker stomping toward him. She was such a cutie when she was angry. Her breathtaking powder-blue eyes narrowed to threatening slits. Her champagne-blonde hair fell around her shoulders. She'd cut it without asking what he thought of that, but it looked good. He preferred it long, though. Maybe Miranda's mom was allowed to cut her hair without asking what Mr. Langley thought of that. It seemed inconsiderate, or maybe his father was unreasonable for demanding his wife embody Rapunzel despite her preferences.

Mr. Langley had left years ago. Jason wished one of his parents would leave. It didn't matter which, just so they separated. They were better apart.

What's up your ass? Miranda spat.

Jason shrugged. Just wanted to see you. I'm leaving tomorrow.

She pouted. And whose fault is that for not picking a local college? Can't you at least stay long enough to turn eighteen, so I can throw you a surprise party?

He grinned, strumming his fingers through her silky, sunshine strands. Surprise?

Oops.

He drew her close and kissed her petal-soft lips. She moaned gratefully and tugged him closer, pressing into him.

She dunked her fingers in his front pocket, pulling out the silver band he got her. What's this?

What's it look like?

Is this a promise ring?

He slipped it on her left ring finger. It's an engagement ring.

Oh my God. She clutched her chest, giggling jubilantly. What makes you think I'll say yes?

He frowned, and she laughed at him.

Of course, it's a yes. She flung her arms around him, and they French kissed.

He loved her mouth—those pretty rosebud lips, the succulent heat of her tongue twisting around his, the way her legs did around him when they made love.

She broke the kiss, breathless. I have to get back before they miss me. Can I tell them?

Not yet. I want to be out of state when you do.

They snickered.

Coward. She pecked his lips and waved at him, skipping off like a happy rabbit.

She stole his heart every time.

****

The next morning after packing and loading his luggage into his pickup, Jason drove to Miranda's house. Jealousy flared hot when he saw that rich douchebag, Blaine Brown's yellow Ferrari. He came from old money, and his poor fucking life must be so hard having shit handed to him and enjoying rewards he hadn't earned. Jason liked rags to riches stories, but not people who were born into wealth and treated the peasants like crap for not being lucky like they were.

Miranda stood on the porch in her skimpy lilac-colored robe and her pretty, fluffy sandal slippers. It wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning, and she was on the prowl for the rich boy. Jason got out of his truck, slamming the door.

Blaine blessed him with his precious eye contact, his perfect hair never straying in the breeze because even the goddamned wind bowed to his will.

What are you doing here? Miranda asked, guiltily he'd swear.

"What's he doing here?" Jason shot back.

Don't you have a plane to catch? Blaine asked in his irritatingly smooth voice.

It really would be a shame if somebody came along and messed up his preppy clothes. It was the dirt that suggested it to him.

A train, Jason said. What are you dressed like that for in front of him, Miranda?

Her mouth fell open.

I like it, Blaine said.

Yeah, I bet you do. Why don't you hit the road before something happens to your car? Jason replied.

Blaine snorted. It's a Ferrari.

Jason punched him in the face, knocking him on his ass, soiling his clothing as the dirt foretold.

What the hell are you doing? Miranda shrieked.

Blaine dabbed his nose as if he were powdering it. My God, I'm telling Daddy.

He crawled to his car like he was afraid to get up. Maybe he wasn't stupid after all.

Blaine, wait. Miranda tried to pass, but Jason grabbed her arm.

Let him go.

"Let me go." She pulled her arm away as he released her.

Blaine peeled out of the driveway in his speedy lemon, the crunching gravel daring him to return.

What did you do that for? she shouted. He just came here to talk.

You know crap about men. They don't get up early just to go talk to a pretty girl. He wants in your pants. I told you I don't like him.

"If he asked me out, I would've said