Desired and Dominated (41 page)

“You need to sleep. We’ll talk about Marco tomorrow.”

It suddenly hits her.

“Oh my God. OH MY GOD! Nate…Master Callaghan, I’m so sorry, please forgive me, please. I couldn’t live with myself if you don’t forgive me. I can’t believe I did that to you, after everything that you’ve done for me. OH MY GOD! I wasn’t thinking straight. You have to believe me. FUCK! Please.”

I clutch her against me, forcing her to calm down.

“Slow down. Breathe. Stop. I told you, we will discuss this tomorrow. For now I want you to rest. Do you understand me, Nyx?”

“Yes, Master Callaghan.”

I press a tender kiss to her forehead. “Do you remember the promise I made to you?” She doesn’t respond. “I promised you that I would
never
give up on you, that I
could
never give up on you. That hasn’t changed. We have a long road ahead of us, but I’m here, and if you still want to be my submissive, then I
will
make this work.”

I hate that I’m nervous of her answer. I hate that she has such a hold over me. I was so consumed with hate and anger tonight, and I know that she has her reasons, and she has been through more than anyone ever should, but I would
never
let any other submissive shame me like that, and allow her to remain in my life. I worry that my love for her is making me weak, and if I’m weak, then how can I be the Master she needs to help her through this?

“I want to be with you, Master. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I will be better, I’ll
do
better.”

I feel so many conflicting emotions, and I don’t like it.

“You need to rest. Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I lift her onto the bed, pull the covers over her, and turn to leave, but she grasps my hand.

“Please don’t leave me, Master. Stay with me.” I nod my head in defeat. She needs me, and her need to have me close, comes before my own need for distance.

I lay down beside her and pull her back against my chest.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Master Callaghan.”

It’s not long before she falls asleep, her breathing becoming slow and even. It’s then, in the darkness, that I become consumed by my own fear, and anger, and guilt. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

If I fail her again, it could be fatal…for both of us.

I can’t even look at her.

How am I supposed to be there for her, to help her through this, if I can’t look into her eyes without seeing the betrayal that is burned into my retinas, and seared into the walls of my heart?

Last night was one of the worst of my life. I can’t say it was
the
worst, because that will forever be the day that I got the call from Kelen Hospital; the day I found out that the love of my life tried to kill herself. That day has stayed with me, tormenting me, making it impossible for me to find my way back to her.

I want…I need to get us through this, because if I don’t…well, the alternative is unspeakable.

I thought that we were slowly moving in the right direction. I knew that we still had a long way to go, and that I couldn’t hurt her in the way she wanted, but I thought that removing physical punishment altogether for a while, would give her time to understand where I was coming from. Now, I realize how wrong I’ve been. I still believe that hurting her to assuage her inner pain would have been unhealthy, but I think that removing it completely, along with her pleasure, has only made her worse. Our physical chemistry has always been such a big part of how we communicate our feelings for one another, and the loss of that has been a huge roadblock in us finding our way back to each other.

I’ve tried so many times to get her to talk to me about it, about everything, but she just shuts down. Last night is the first time that she’s really opened up to me, about anything. I should have listened to that feeling I had in the beginning. I convinced myself that whatever it was she was holding back, it couldn’t have been that big a deal, if she didn’t feel the need to tell me. I was only lying to myself, and in the end, it hurt Sofia more than I can handle. I was selfish, but that’s no surprise; I’ve always been selfish with her, since the first time I kissed her, I’ve been unforgivably selfish.

Last night has forced me into action, and we need to build on that. She needs to talk to me now. If she doesn’t, there’s no hope left for us. She broke my heart, and my heart has been breaking for her every day since I got on that plane. It’s almost more than I can bear. The only thing worse, would be to lose her altogether. Now that I know what she’s been carrying around all this time, I hope I can be a better man for her, to find a way to move beyond her betrayal, and to help her deal with the loss of her career. She needs to talk to someone about what happened when she was young, to fully come to terms with it. If she had worked through her emotions and her grief, I don’t think we would be in the situation we are now.

Dance gave her an escape, a way to cope, and that’s been stripped away. She’s lost. We’re lost. But, I want to make it better. I want to keep my promise to her that I will always be here, that I will always love her, and protect her, even from herself.

I lay awake all night, staring at her, wondering what I’m going to say to her today. I need to reinforce my place as her Master, because what she did with Marco, can
never
happen again. I couldn’t see that again and forgive her. I don’t know if I can forgive her now. Logically, I understand why she did it, that she wasn’t in a good place, and that she didn’t fully grasp what she was doing at the time. That was evident when I mentioned it. She was shocked and horrified with herself, and I would love to say that I could put it behind me and move on, but I’m not made that way. Nevertheless, how can I punish her? How can I hold it against her after what she told me? It would make me the worst man in the world, to hear what she’s been through, and to punish her for reacting in the only way she felt she could.

I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place. If I tell her that it’s ok, and that I forgive her, then my role as her Master, is questionable at best. If I focus on what she did, rather than her subsequent revelations, I’m a dick. How do I navigate this? I usually excel when it comes to walking the fine line in life. It’s where I feel most powerful, most like myself, but this is something else entirely.

I don’t think I slept at all. I felt physically ill most of the night. I replayed the sight of her in his playroom, over and over in my mind, and when I managed to push it from the forefront of my thoughts, I was grief-stricken by what that monster did to her when she was a helpless, trusting girl. I actually had to jump out of bed at one point to throw up in the bathroom.

I’m weak, and pathetic, and I hate that I’ve let myself become this person.

I leave Sofia to sleep while I take a shower, and try to put the broken pieces of myself back together, letting the water cascade over my body, washing away my doubt and insecurity, steeling myself for the conversation I need to have with her. I stand under the showerhead for at least fifteen minutes, my head pressed against the cold tiles, the water beating down on my back as I slowly regroup, remembering who I am, and why she was drawn to me in the first place.

I stepped into the shower as Nate - battered and bruised by life. But, when I finally emerge, I feel stronger.

I control my surroundings.

I control my life.

I control my submissive.

I am Master Callaghan.

It’s midafternoon by the time she wakes, and I listen to the sound of her cautious footsteps padding down the hallway and into the living room. She finds me pouring over contracts for work, distracting myself until she was ready to come to me.

Her demeanor is quiet, resigned; she knows what’s coming. She stands at the end of the couch, her head bowed in a show of respect, her hands held behind her back. She doesn’t attempt to speak, but instead, waits patiently until I’m finished working on the papers in front of me, and I make her wait, not to be cruel, but in gratitude to her willingness to submit to me. I know that opening up to me was hard for her, especially after what happened at the club. She knows that she betrayed my trust as my lover, as my friend, and as my submissive. This is her way of showing she’s sorry. She doesn’t try to force me to talk, she doesn’t expect anything of me, and I acknowledge it with my silence. The way we interact as Dominant and submissive is a form of unspoken communication. It’s part of who we both are. This is her way of fighting for that.

When I’m done with my work, I clear the table, carefully and methodically filing the papers in my briefcase. I take my coffee cup to the sink and wash it out before setting to work preparing brunch for us in silence. She doesn’t move a muscle, or lift her head to see what I’m doing. She simply keeps her submissive stance until I’m ready.

When the dining table is set and the food is laid out, I cross the room, closing the distance between us. I drink in her scent as she stands before me, and in our silence, I can hear her breath quicken at my proximity. It’s a welcome response.

“Give me your hand, Nyx.” She doesn’t lift her head, but reaches out to me, her hands small and warm, her touch a sweet relief from the loneliness of the night. “Come with me.” I lead her to the table and pull out the chair for her. “Sit. Eat.” Her gaze remains lowered, careful not to meet mine until I say otherwise.

We eat in companionable silence, and I watch as she savors every last bite. She’s always been slender, but recently, since Budapest, she’s painfully thin, and it pleases me to see her devour her meal. Maybe it’s because a weight has been lifted, now that I know what happened, or maybe she’s eating because I told her to. Either way, I’ll take it. I’ve wanted her to do things to make herself happy in recent weeks and months, but she’s not ready for that, and if I can get her to treat her body with respect, even for my sake, then that will have to be enough until I get through to her.

When she’s finished eating, she crosses her cutlery on the plate before clasping her hands in her lap and waiting. I take a moment to look at her, to really take in every aspect of her features. Her long luscious hair scraped up into a messy bun, her tanned skin, her stunning pouty lips, and her glasses framing her beautiful brown eyes. The vibrancy that used to emanate from her is gone. She looks older than her years; tired; defenseless. It hurts to see her like this, and I want to scoop her up into my arms and love her until she can love herself again, but I can’t, because looking at her fragile features, I also see the look in her eyes when I walked into Marco’s playroom. I can see the marks on her wrists from the metal restrains, and the same on her ankles. They are red and raw, and a reminder of how she gave herself over to another man.

“Look at me.” She lifts her head, slowly, and I can see that she doesn’t want to meet my gaze. I see the reluctance in the clench of her jaw as our eyes finally find each other. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” I’m trying not to let my voice sound cold, but it comes across that way.

“Yes, Master Callaghan. Considering how ashamed I feel, I slept relatively well, thank you.” She shows her inner strength, holding my gaze as she confesses her guilt.

“You should feel ashamed of yourself, I’m ashamed of you for your behavior last night.” She continues to stare straight into my eyes as tears begin to fall from hers. “What I’m about to say to you doesn’t change anything that I said to you yesterday. I love you, and I will be here for you, for us. Nothing that you told me has changed the way I feel about you. If anything, I love you more for trusting me with what happened.”