Page 11 of Destined By Dragonblood (Blood Born #2)
The front of me went cold, and I forced my arms to my sides, hands fisting to ward off the temptation to pull her back where she belonged.
“I would invite you to spend the evening at my penthouse, but I think you’ll be more comfortable here with me on your couch rather than in an unfamiliar place.
It’s your decision, but either way, I’m not leaving your side tonight. ”
Nibbling her lower lip, she nodded. “Thank you. I’d rather stay here if you’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.” I glanced through the entryway into the living room and the wide couch she’d been hiding behind. “We could sit and talk for a while?” I suggested.
Ashley emptied her lungs with a strong exhale. “I should probably call my therapist.”
“It’s okay if you’d rather do that. You don’t have to share personal information with me.”
She huffed a shaky laugh, her violet eyes glancing at me and away again. “Pretty sure we’ve shared more personal things than most acquaintances.”
“You have me there,” I said with a smile, wishing she could have me other ways.
“Want a drink?”
“Water would be great,” I replied, slipping off my coat and hanging it on a hook beside hers.
Ashley shuffled into the kitchen in the cutest pink bunny slippers, and I trailed after her, scanning the interior of her home while she flicked on lights.
She had blinds and curtains drawn over every window, their drab tan color matching the rest of the interior.
Few personal items littered the area, and not even the kitchen appeared lived-in with how clean it was.
Was she a naturally tidy person, or did her trauma inflict the need for control over her environment?
She handed me a glass of water, and I followed along behind her into the living room.
“Can I sit with you?” I asked as she settled on the couch, slippers shucked and socked feet tucked beneath her.
A lone hardback chair, appearing unused, sat across from her, a plump pillow atop the seat.
Ashley glanced at it before nodding consent for me to share space with her.
Either she wanted me close by or was pushing her boundaries as she’d said Doc Hasslet had recommended she do. Perhaps both, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Settling into the opposite corner as her, I sipped my water. “I’m no therapist, but I’ve seen and heard a lot in my years as a Dom.”
Ashley glanced at the barricaded window, wrapping her arms around herself again. “I can imagine.”
More than anything, I yearned to place demands on her so I could turn her mind off, but she wasn’t the type of submissive looking to be bossed around twenty-four-seven.
Unlike with Dolyn, I’d never gotten the sense she looked for direction in our scenes, but they both submitted beautifully to the pain I gave, which allowed them release.
“I’m broken,” she whispered, bringing my full focus back on who needed me right now.
Not sure of her background or issues, I didn’t argue. But I’d seen worse trauma-haunted individuals come through my club’s doors over the past decade and find partial healing. “You’re a beautiful soul, one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met.”
A soft smile curved her generous lips I’d dreamed of countless times seeing wrapped around my cock.
She caught me staring, her cheeks flushing as she glanced away again. “You might not think that if I told you how and why I ended up at your club.”
“Nothing about your past will change how I feel about you.” I tore my focus off her mouth.
Ashley turned her gaze on me, searching my eyes as though desperate for connection yet suspicious as hell.
Fuck, could I empathize with both.
She started picking at her pinkie finger, something I’d noted before when she grew uneasy. “You know what grooming is?” Her question released as a ragged whisper, causing my insides to tighten.
I nodded and sipped to keep from cursing as my mind went in ten different directions, each and every one dark and disturbing.
“The pastor from my parents church was a revered man.”
Her truth hit me like a fist to the gut, and I listened as Ashley explained in detail about the lies he preached from his pulpit and how his flock was blinded to the truth of the evil man feeding them bullshit.
Feeling powerful for having caught his attention, she’d initiated their flirting, but resulting manipulation on his part landed her tied up on a basement bed for two days, lured in by promises of enlightenment and worship.
Not one inch of her body had been ignored, her three holes used without permission, and all the while he’d blamed her “Eve nature” and budding body for his sinful downfall.
But once finished, he’d praised her for being so perfect an angel that she ought to sit by the right hand of God.
Had I believed in his god, I would have agreed with the sick fuck.
Ashley was a divine creature.
The rapist had released her, threatening her with eternal damnation if she spoke a word of what had happened in those torturous forty-eight hours.
Regardless of his attempts at coercion, she’d told her parents of the assault, and blinded by their faith, they didn’t believe her.
Not realizing others outside the church would have listened and advocated for her, Ashley had chosen to keep quiet and count down the days until she was old enough to leave what she realized a few years later was a cult.
The man hadn’t physically come after her again before graduation, and she’d escaped without further trauma. However, twice in the following year, he’d managed to get in contact with her through different social media platforms. She’d finally deleted her online presence and changed her cell number.
Still, the effects of the assault lingered, the reasons for her hard limits.
Physical arousal hadn’t been possible until I’d gifted her the pain she required to lower her mental defenses, and anytime someone of the opposite sex intentionally touched her without permission, she had flashbacks of what she had survived.
Thus, the reason for the no skin-on-skin limit.
The traumatizing tale had me cringing, raging to rip that fucker’s head from his body. I longed to hold her again, erase the memories of how he’d hurt her, but I sat, empty glass on the coffee table, hands on my thighs.
“I’m sorry for spewing all this shit on you,” she whispered, rubbing over her arms, gaze on her lap.
“Don’t be,” I said, my tone low. “I’m here for you, Ashley—no matter what for or when, okay?”
A tentative smile curved her lips, and she nodded. “Thank you. You’re one of the few people I trust.”
I didn’t need to imagine why.
She retrieved a pillow and blanket from the linen closet, bringing them to me where I remained seated. “Can I get you anything before I try to get some sleep?”
“I’m good, but thank you.”
She nodded and straightened her fleece top. “See you in the morning.” Ashley slipped back down the hallway, arms wrapped around her center, shoulders hunched in on herself.
I lounged on the couch as promised, reliving her story and searching through my feelings. What she’d told me intensified the growing attraction and desire for connection even more.
There was no way I could let Ashley go. If that meant another broken heart, so be it.
She needed me as much as I did her, and I was willing to sacrifice whatever was necessary to help us both feel whole again.