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Preface—A Word About Jonathan (or Nathan)…
For those of you fa the Cards and Natural Law, the idea that Jonathan is getting his own story uy” who nearly destroyed Lauren’s soul? Who alot Mac killed? Joey, have you lost your mind?!
Jonathan was the worst kind of bottoames with his chosen Mistresses until he destroyed them emotionally and moved on to his next prey The only person who stopped him was a Mistress as more of a sociopath than he ho used hihthorse If she had succeeded, of course n Jonathan to Hell forever, for no male hero of hthorse of Natural Law
Truth be told, it never occurred to me that Jonathan should have his own story Not until a fan (who is a Do me in that direction with questions like
“Why does he continually have to prove hisothers? How does it serve hiular Dom or a bottom? Why choose to masquerade as a sub? Deep down, is he a real sub? What does he get out of it? What would it take to stop hi by never surrendering himself to real intimacy? What would force the issue, breach those walls?”
Just like that, Mistress Dona appeared in ination and I knew that Jonathan needed her What cinched it was finding out how much she needed him When two people are bound the way these tere, I have to write their story So here’s Mistress of Redemption I won’t say enjoy the journey, because it’s not that kind of trip, but I hope you find so here that feeds your heart and soul
This book is dedicated to “Maven”, who believed enough in Jonathan that she convinced me andusand balanced enough to heal the soul It makes me wish there were more Donas in the world, people able to drive evil away and help the soul find its way back to the gift of unconditional love freely offered by another
Chapter One
The duffel bag hit the edge of the road, sending up a puff of gravel dust that lingered, seely reluctant to settle in the still, huht to Wentworth Prison it had been hot and sticky, for Florida summers knew no other way to be, but it had not been like this The light of the sun was harsh, painful to the eyes as it reflected on a ribbon of asphalt flanked by expanses of sand and scrub that stretched out from one horizon to another He hadn’t re the only feature of this desolate wasteland, but five years was a long tinificant at the time
He could have uard tower to wait for the bus, but he rejected the idea He wasn’t planning on turning around or looking at the prison ever again
Prisoners about to be released had two choices for transport He could catch a bus ride back to the county in which he was arrested, coements Call a friend, a family member
So he waited for the bus, not because he had any interest in going back to Tampa, but because there was no one to call The life he’d built for himself—Jonathan Powell, successful stockbroker, upwardlyon hih to live on for a while, but his old e to have him back Not the accomplice to the S&M Killer, the woman who’d tried to off two cops as her final coup
He wouldn’t find a career in finance, where corporations regularly did cri process
It didn’t matter He’d find a hotel, a shower and plan to be across the country in a week Maybe Oregon Mountains Cool, green He could hire himself out as a subcontractor in places where new construction was boo Once, in another life, he’d been a better-than-decent roofer Fearless nohis balance So shirtless in loose jeans, his knees drawn up to anchor himself on the slope as he ate his sandwich, he’d almost felt at peace Clean despite the filth that had dried in a film on his sun-browned skin from the hot, dirty work
A loser, he reminded himself He’d been a no-ain