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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

DEACON

I hold her, play with her hair, stroking her body for a long time. I tell her she’s beautiful, that she’s a good girl. She smiles up at me weakly, eyes hazy. I tore open a wound and let some of the poison drip out. Now, she needs aftercare.

I kiss her temple, breathing in vanilla.

“We never ate dinner,” I say.

She shakes her head, giving me a shaky smile. “I’m a bit hungry.”

“You shower, and I’ll find a couple trays and bring the food up,” I say, disentangling myself.

She nods, peeling herself off the bed. The last thing I see as I close the bedroom door is her naked body with my handprints on her ass disappearing into the bathroom. I can’t help but smile as I descend the stairs. I did that—that’s mine.

I bring up the food. We eat, and I think over what I want from her. It’s time to talk to her about what I’m into and what I want from a relationship with her. We need to have an open discussion.

She finishes her food. I set aside the trays, pushing myself back against the pillows.

“Come sit in my lap,” I say .

There’s no room for disobedience in my voice. She hears it and crawls naked up the bed to straddle me. I touch her curls falling over her naked breasts. She’s the prettiest thing, and I’m on my knees for it.

“Let’s talk,” I say.

“About what you just did?” Her brows arch.

“I’m into some kinky shit,” I say. “It’s not bad shit, not if you do it right.”

She bites her lip, chewing hard on it.

“Okay,” she says finally.

She isn’t rejecting me outright, but it’s impossible to read her face. Her pale blue eyes are soft, narrowed on me like she’s trying to figure me out.

“I’m going to lay some things out for you,” I say. We’re in the territory where my background in BDSM is a strength. “I want you to understand what I want from you. Then, we’ll talk about what you’re willing to give and what you want to give.”

She stays perfectly still, blinking, watching me like a wary deer.

“I want you to stay with me. You don’t have to decide what this is, what we are, but stay,” I say. “We’ll have a contract you can get out of if you choose. It’ll outline how you want to be treated. Your needs, my needs, and we’ll work through those differences.”

She wets her lips. “Like a kink contract?”

I’m impressed that she knows what I’m talking about. “Just like that.”

“So you can tie me up?” she says.

“So I can care for you,” I say firmly. “So both of our needs are met.”

“And you need to tie me up.”

“I’d like to.”

“Is it negotiable?”

“I’m happy to negotiate.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Then, she sits up straight and folds her hands in her lap. “Alright, explain. ”

Before now, I would have walked away from anyone who didn’t want this as badly as I do. I never engaged in anything but vanilla sex with women who hadn’t signed a contract.

But with Freya, nothing is simple. Everything has a hundred different layers, and I’m clearly willing to do things I didn’t think I was capable of to make her mine.

“I’d like to have you as my submissive,” I say, as if this is just another negotiation and not a conversation I’ve turned over and over in my head for months.

She purses her lips. “Why?”

“Because I want you,” I say. “And I want you like that.”

“How?”

She’s so forceful in her curiosity. I take a drag from my cigarette.

“I want to care for you. I want you to belong to me,” I say. “That’s what I meant by what I said last night. Give me everything, and I’ll keep you safe.”

Her lids lower as she digs at her thumbnail. “So you’d be in control?”

I nod. “It’s more complex than that, but yes.”

“How can I trust you not to…abuse that?”

She has every right to ask that question after everything she’s been through. I’ve thought about this part of BDSM so many times before. This is what can make it dangerous, why it’s important to be careful entering into contracts or doing scenes with people I don’t know well. The only thing that separates what I do with her from the unthinkable is a single word.

And therein lies the weak point.

She can submit to me. She can put her life in my hands. But her safety is completely built upon the trust that if she safewords me, I’ll listen.

“Have I ever hurt you?” I ask.

Her face goes still, her eyes are far away. There’s an expectant pause. Then, she shakes her head.

“No,” she admits.

“Look at me, sweetheart. ”

She lifts her chin. I wrap my hands around her waist, absently entranced by the soft curve of her waist.

“Kink doesn’t have to be about extreme lengths. For me, it’s about the…connection. With you,” I say, trying hard to articulate this clearly. “The main thing I want from you is for you to let me be the caretaker. We can talk about the kinky shit on a case-by-case basis.”

The corner of her mouth turns up.

“That’s hard for me to…process,” she whispers.

“Why?”

“Because…nobody has taken care of me,” she says. “My mother left when I was so young, I barely remember her. Growing up, I dressed myself, I fed myself, and when I cried, I comforted myself.”

My chest aches. I pull her near, and her arms slip around my neck.

“Not anymore,” I say firmly. “From here on out, that’s my job.”

Her hands come up and trace the lines of my face. I’m still, barely breathing. She’s always been like a wary animal. When she’s close, I hold my breath for fear of scaring her away.

“I need to think about this,” she says.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She bends in and kisses me, slow and deep. It’s slow fire, all the way down to my groin. Then, she lays her head on my chest, and I settle back against the pillows and hold her until she falls asleep.

The moon is up, the sky clear for once. The stars are so thick, they cast everything in a pale white glow. Through the center of it spills the Milky Way. I’ve looked up at the sky over Ryder Ranch time and time again, but it’s different with her, knowing how badly I need her to stay and watch the stars with me. Forever.

My eyes shut. She’s snoring a little, her hair fluttering over her face.

This is peace like I’ve never known.

It feels like a second later when I’m wide awake, my arms empty. I blink hard, fixing my gaze out the window. The sun is rising over the inky mountains. The fireplace still glimmers. Her side of the bed is a lump of blankets .

My body hurts worse today than it did yesterday. I swing my legs off the bed and pull on my sweats, being mindful of the gauze on my thigh. Then, I limp into the bathroom.

My heart stops.

There’s a note stuck to the mirror with medical tape.

The world screeches to a halt. I rip it down and open it.

Bittern said it was safe to go home. He said Aiden hit him. I have to go make sure he’s alright.

Please don’t be angry with me.

My stomach sinks that she thinks I’d ever be angry with her. I’m angry, but never at Freya, never at the woman I’m in love with. No, Aiden is the problem here. I crumple the paper and toss it in the trash.

My heart is pounding. My mouth is dry.

Did she run because of Bittern? Or because of our conversation last night?

Working quickly, I put on my clothes and head downstairs. Ginny is in the kitchen, and she sends me a concerned look, but I keep walking. Gravel crunches under my boots as I stride down the driveway and into the barn.

Goddamn.

She took my horse.

I’m impressed but also planning on spanking her ass the second I catch it. Bones’ stall is open, but his saddle is still on its bar. I run a hand over my face, unsure how to handle this. She’s in a sensitive situation. I can’t break into her house and demand to see her, can’t put a gun to Aiden’s head and order him to hand her over. The minute he realizes he can use her against me, he will.

And I can’t outright kill him, at least not without a plan so I don’t get caught.

But I can get her back.

I saddle up Silver Phantom and burst out of the barn into the mist still gathered on the hills of Ryder Ranch. I don’t urge her. She loves to run, and her long legs eat up the distance to the fence line .

My heart pounds with Silver Phantom’s hooves. I’m moving up the hill that leads to the spot where we met, coming at it from the south, when I stop short. The woods open to the clearing before the creek. Thick mist darkens the shadows of the Ponderosa pines in hazy trails.

Something moves in those shadows.

Silver Phantom throws her head, prancing. Then, a dark shape appears and my heart sinks.

It’s Bones.

He’s riderless, his bridle hanging on either side of his neck as he trots in the direction of the ranch house. I slide to my feet and whistle. He jerks his head and pivots, coming down the hill and halting beside me. Tied to his forelock is one of her green ribbons.

My throat is dry. She put it there so I would know she made it back safe.

Jaw set, I untie it, push it in my pocket, and sling the reins over his shoulder, taking Silver Phantom’s as well. Then, we start walking back. I don’t want to ride. I need time to think through everything before I have to pretend I’m fine.

Silently, I promise myself this is the last time she leaves.