Prologue
High up in the wildest part of the mountains, far from any town or city, is a group of hot springs surrounded by caves. Werewolf shape-shifters have lived there for hundreds of years practicing their own brand of BDSM love. The Master’s word is law and he holds the key to a woman’s pleasure.
Chapter One
“You’re useless, worthless, and no more help to me than a piece of dog shit on my shoe. Get your gear and get out of here and never come back,” screamed the manager of the bar, his face bright red with fury and spittle flying from his mouth.
Andorra Yasbit stared back at him, just as angry as he was, but helpless to do anything to deflect his wrath. A drunken patron had stood up and pushed his chair backward into her as she was carrying a tray loaded with drinks past his table. No matter how strong and well balanced she was, it was inevitable something would get spilled.
“What about the money you owe me?” she asked.
“I don’t owe you anything. You haven’t finished your shift. Now get the hell out of my bar and off my land before I call the cops on you.”
Andorra turned and did as she was told but it was damn unfair. She couldn’t possibly have known the man would stand up just as she was walking past his table, and she’d been working for four hours already. Okay, it was minimum wage but she’d been hoping to get some tips as well. And now she had no place to stay tonight and not enough money to pay for accommodation in even the cheapest hotel. Fuck it!
She collected her backpack and sleeping roll from the storeroom beside the kitchen, where the owner had said she could sleep after her shift, and slid her arms through the straps. It had seemed so exciting to backpack around America when she’d started three months ago, and she’d certainly seen some truly amazing scenery, but right now she’d give everything she owned to have her family back together again and a home to return to tonight.
“Suck it up, princess. Build a bridge and get over it,” she told herself for possibly the ten millionth time. She was used to finding places to sleep. How hard could it be? She just needed a band shell, or a rotunda in a park. Even a bus station would do.
Andorra had always enjoying going on long walks, so when her father had run off with a blonde bimbo from his office, and her stepmother had taken her own son and closed up their apartment, backpacking around the States had seemed like a really fun thing to do. But that was before she’d discovered that someone had emptied her bank account and closed it down—very likely her father, who’d always spent every cent he’d earned. And backpacking with zero money wasn’t quite so much fun. Pretty much the only jobs she could get were waitressing, which paid very little unless she was prepared to strut through the bar topless.
Resolutely Andorra turned her back on the small town and walked toward the mountains. It was early fall but not too cold yet. She’d find an uninhabited area where she could camp out for a while. Somewhere with a river where she could drink pure water and catch some fish to eat, all free of charge. At least the rivers all began in these mountains and the water was clear and pure. She wasn’t ready to give up yet.
For the next week Andorra climbed higher and higher up the mountains. At first there were trails to follow, but then she just kept heading upward. She followed a river so she always had water, and she tried to stop early enough each afternoon to put her net in the water and catch a few fish for her supper. That didn’t always work. Some days she found trees still with berries on them, though, and they were yummy. So much nicer than anything she’d ever bought in a store.
In the back of her mind Andorra knew she couldn’t keep living like this. She wasn’t eating enough. She was always hungry. And her diet certainly wasn’t nutritionally balanced either. Plus, come winter she’d have to be in a town with a job and an apartment to return to each evening. But for now, she refused to think about that and just kept climbing the mountain. Reaching the top was her aim, her goal, her focus. Somehow it felt to her that if she made it to the top of the mountain all her problems would be solved. But it seemed like every time she reached the top of one peak, there was another one just ahead of her, higher and more beautiful than the one she’d already attained.
By the time she saw steam rising from a peak still ahead of her, Andorra began to wonder if it was a volcano, or if she was hallucinating from hunger. The river was only a very small trickle now, and she’d caught no fish the night before, but chewing onion grass tasted good, even though she knew not to swallow it no matter how hungry she became.
Logic told Andorra she needed to turn back and find a town and real food. Obstinacy made her promise herself she’d turn back only after she’d seen the volcano. “I’ve never seen a volcano before, and dammit, I’ve come this far, I’ll get the rest of the way.”