Diablo Blanco Club: Rite of First Claim Read Online Free

was out of contact were because his talents as a photojournalist were needed to uncover and document the illegal activities of drug and gun smugglers around the world. The missed birthday parties, holidays, and canceled dinners that caused his family to give him grief about being unreliable were all a result of the international organization he worked for.
    “Yeah, pull the other one, pal.” Mike snorted.
    Determined to think of something other than the assignment he’d left in the Middle East and the annoying demands of his agent, Mike stepped out of the bathroom. Towel wrapped around his waist, he padded into his bedroom. The jangle of his cell phone echoed off the high ceiling of the warehouse apartment. He scooped the phone from the nightstand and flipped it open. “Halsey.”
    “How soon are you going to get here?”
    “David?” The distinctive deep voice could only belong to David Henderson. “What do you mean ‘get here’? Get where?”
    The chuckle vibrated through the phone. “Well, my man, I’m talking about the masquerade at the Club.”
    “I haven’t been to a Midnight Masquerade in—”
    “Three years,” David finished for him. “I would suggest you change whatever plans you made for tonight. Unless you want Kringle to mark your lady?”
    “What?” Even as he responded, Mike moved toward the walk-in closet. “Why is Lyssa at the Club?”
    “You send her an invitation every year.”
    “And she tears it up and mails it back to me every year,” Mike returned. He found his tuxedo stuffed in the back, still wrapped in the cleaner’s bag. He stepped back into the bedroom and stripped off the towel. His heart rate increased, and the heat in his balls stirred, animating his cock at the thought of publicly reclaiming his woman.
    “Well, it seems like she’s decided to use the invite this time. And she’s looking for a master, my friend. Has the white bracelet and is dressed like a cherry red Christmas elf, leaving no one in doubt as to whom she’s selected for the job.”
    “Red elf?” Mike tamped down the irritation that tried to rise inside him. Ripping the plastic bag away, he tossed the jacket, pants, shirt, and cummerbund of his tuxedo onto the silk duvet.
    “Yup. Red dress, red heels, even a sexy red wig. Makes her look hot. Not that she doesn’t look smokin’ when she has her own hair down,” David assured him.
    “Down, boy. The lady is mine.” The warning was clear in his voice.
    “Just trying to compliment your good taste.”
    “Don’t. How long has she been there?” Mike glanced at the clock. It was half past ten. Depending on traffic and lights, he’d probably make it to the Club by eleven, leaving an hour before the masquerade concluded and masters paired off with their selected submissives.
    “Just got here. And the bartender and his doctor friend have been chatting her up since she arrived.”
    “Keep them occupied. I’ll be there in a bit.”
    “Better make it quick. Kringle just walked in and is already taking notice. As are a few others in the room.” Reluctant honesty filled the other man’s voice as he admitted, “I wouldn’t mind getting a taste of her myself.”
    “Back off, Henderson; she’s already been claimed. And I don’t share.”
    David’s rumble of laughter was full of humor, but Mike was sure he heard a hint of disappointment there as well. “That’s mean, man, that’s just—”
    Mike cut the other man’s protest off as he snapped the cell phone closed and tossed it onto the bed.
    Hands on his hips, Mike stared down at the formal wear covering his bed.
    Soft skin, heated kisses, the wet sounds of two bodies coming together in the dark, cramped confines of a supply closet.
    “Say it, Lys.” His voice was harsh, guttural with the need flooding his body and his determination to stay in control of both the flow of years of pent-up desire and the woman bound and waiting for him.
    “Please.” Her voice cracked as she moaned, pushing