Page 68 of Axe Marks the Spot

I look at Kas. “Yeah, honey?”

“I was asking if we could go get ice cream now.”

“I promised you we would.”

Kas bounces in her seat and does a little cheer. “You want to come, Logger Dane?”

“I think I need to get back home, Curious Kas.”

She snorts. “That is not a good nickname.”

“Is it…Ohio?” he asks.

Kas groans, and Dane smiles easily. Their interaction makes my chest warm for what feels like the millionth time in the last half hour. There’s a part of me that would love for him to get ice cream with us, but I don’t need to feed my fantasy of him being more than what he is to me now. Our impromptu dinner already did not help my situation.

“Just say weird or cringe, Logger Dane.”

He chuckles and steps out of the booth. Cheryl walks back over at that exact moment, and I swear she’s attempting not to glare daggers at me.

“You’re still here!” she says to Dane.

“Leaving now.” He doesn’t look her in the eye as he pulls out his wallet again. His eyes meet mine as he says loud enough for Cheryl to hear, “I’ve got this.”

“Dane—” I start.

“Let me take care of it.” His words are more than just words. They’re a command. If the gentle edge to his tone didn’t say it, his eyes do. He’s asking me to submit to him, here and now. To let him not just take care of the bill, but to take care of me, something he said he’d do if I’d let him. I just never imagined it would be in this capacity.

I dip my chin, and emotion builds in my chest. When was the last time a man not in my family paid for my meal? It’s been a long time, and while I think I should fight him on it, it feels good to let him do it.

“Thank you, Dane,” I say while holding his penetrating gaze.

“You’re welcome, Lindsey.” The warmth of his deep voice curls my toes like it often does, and I imagine, if we were in private, he’d call me his good girl again.

He clears his throat as if he’s imagining it, too, before turning to hand the cash to Cheryl. “Keep the change.”

She takes the money and walks off again with that same pout on her face.

“See you later, Kas the Sass,” Dane says.

Kas screws up her face. “Still cringe, Logger Dane.”

He chuckles and smiles at me, his tone dropping deeper as he says, “Bye, Lindsey.”

I don’t think I can speak, so I wave, knowing I’ll be messaging him later. For now, I’m wondering what the heck just happened between us.

22

Dane

A FAMILY WAS NEVER something I pictured for myself. Growing up an only child with a mom who loved me but treated me more like a friend and a dad who had not only anger issues but also a misguided idea of what dominance and control was, the idea of having children was not a dream. What I wanted was something quieter, a life without shouting matches or constant turmoil. Especially after a childhood spent listening to my parents fight nearly every day. Truly, all I ever dreamed of was a quiet life that made me happy. A life that fulfilled me and gave me a purpose. The one I thought I had now.

I take after my old man in many ways, but I’ve kept the good parts of him and rewritten the bad. Before I started doing what I do now, I logged full-time, just like he did, but on my own terms. I didn’t log because I had to; I did it because I loved the solitude, the physical work, and the constant change of scenery. And when it came to my dominant nature, I found a healthier way to channel it. I didn’t need control to feel powerful or to lord over anyone. I needed connection. Purpose.

I found the kink community in my early twenties while working at a logging company in Portland. I spent time at a local club, learned under one of their best Doms, and understood—for the first time—that dominance could be about trust and responsibility, not fear and control. I spent a few years bouncing around, including a stretch in New York, before I eventually ended up in Starlight Haven. I hadn’t planned to stay, but there was something about this place that felt healing. Settling down here finally gave me the quiet I’d been chasing for years. Then my Loopr account exploded, and I started Domming full-time.

Over the last five years, I’ve grown into myself in ways I never imagined I could. I healed parts of me that felt broken—not only through the work I do but also with a therapist—and settled into the nice life I created.

I’ve been fine with limited human interaction, satisfying any need for touch when it came by driving down to a club in LA, which, as I told Fox, I’ve stopped doing. Not only did the interactions feel empty, but they were not as fulfilling as my work online is. It didn’t matter, though—at least, I thought it didn’t, because I have my dynamics, my cabin, painting, and running. I also have my Loopr account where I act out scenes and have fun. I thought I had everything I could want, and I was content.