“Guess the South can’t live without its queen.” Clearly unhappy, Merrick rubbed his jaw. “Can’t argue against it if it’s your decision, Vi. You need to do what’s right for you in the long run. Something for you to think about though… sit down with the girls and tell them before they hear about it elsewhere. Tamsyn’s gonna be heartbroken, but Callie and Sierra, even Tabitha in her own way… hell, they all think of you like an adopted mother.”
It was an aspect she’d been forced to consider throughout her back and forth wavering. At the end of the day, the choice didn’t just affect her. The family fabric she’d woven herself into over the last twelve months wouldn’t fall apart once her thread was removed, but it would fray in sections for a time.
Someone else would come along and patch themselves into the tapestry, smoothing the ragged edges of her departure and strengthening the piece as a whole.
The four women she’d come to know and love were more than friends, more than submissives. She’d been there through some of their hardest struggles, watched them grow and become assertive women in their own right, and it was honor to be included in that journey.
“That, I think, will be more difficult than actually leaving.”
“Can I be frank?”
“You can be whomever you want to be,” she shot back, smiling when Merrick rolled his eyes at her. “You know I treasure your wisdom, oh mighty Master Merrick. Please, bestow some upon me now.”
“Not gonna miss your wisecracking ass if you keep it up,” he grumbled, then drummed his fingertips on the table. “They’re smart women. Intelligent, compassionate, empathetic in some cases. Between the four of them, they’ve faced some of the worst abuse—physical, psychological, emotional—and come outas survivors. Losing you is gonna hurt. Bad. Once they know why, they’ll understand. Just be straight with them.”
“This coming from the big, bad Dom who asked another big, bad Dom to—”
Merrick glowered at her. “My faults are my own, Violet.”
“And Tamsyn still loves you despite the…enormityof them.” Violet smirked when he blushed just enough to let her know she’d hit her mark. “God, I’m going to miss you. I think about going and there’s a weight on my shoulders pressuring me to stay exactly where I am. I think about staying and everything in me begs to go home. How am I supposed to win?”
Merrick’s big hand covered hers, his fingers curling around her much smaller ones. “Living isn’t about winning. Do you think Tamsyn thought about winning when she ran away from the compound, or Tabitha believes she’s winning every time she does… what she does? It’s survival, not a game. Living is being the best person you can be whatever circumstances are thrown your way, learning from your mistakes, finding happiness where it comes—or making your own.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me,” he corrected smugly, “as much as I love you. Friendship isn’t enough to keep you here when you have that,” he said quietly, pointing across the room at Reaux, “and all its potential waiting for you back home.”
Tears stung her eyes. “What if it all goes south—no pun intended.”
“Well, the Masters are at your beck and call, always. We can head on down to New Orleans and bury the prick if you need him to disappear. If things really don’t work out, pretty sure Van and Eli won’t force you to be homeless if you come back. We’re only ever a phone call away, Vi. Family is forever.”
She squeezed his fingers, then slid her hand from his to lift her glass in a toast. “Here’s to my last two weeks at Serenity, then.”
The beer bottle clinked against it. “To family, here and there.”
Yeah, goddamn it, she was going to miss him.
Chapter Eight
Boudreaux
Waking up from an afternoon nap with a woman,hiswoman perched on his belly wasn’t a hardship. Surprising—shocking even, given the last few days of hot and cold attitude she’d been blowing in his direction—but remarkably arousing.
The only way to improve this scenario would be getting her naked.
Arms folded over her chest, the love of his life scowled down at him with fiery dark eyes, warning him they were in the hot cycle of her mood again. “Are you planning on getting up anytime soon?”
Reaux blinked slowly, stifling a yawn. “Pretty sure I’m already up, Bennie. You touch me, I get hard. I smell you from ten feet away, I’m hard. It’s kind of how I’m wired now.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a walking erection.” She rocked her hips from side to side impatiently. “I’m bored, Boudreaux.”
Technically, that was probably true. Looking at her—the flush along her cheekbones, the spicy glint in her eyes, and the suggestive rhythm of her body—he had his own suspicions about why she was in such a foul mood. “Mmm-hmm. Are you sure you’re not just horny? You’re not the type to go without sex for long, Violet. I’m still getting over the fact you hadn’t slept with anyone for two years.”
Apparently, he needed to keep his mouth shut when he was still half asleep; she appreciated his observations about as well as a bull respected a red flag flapping in its face.
“Are you calling me a slut?”
“No, but I’m starting to believe everything I’ve read about women’s hormones during pregnancy.” When she actuallygrowledat him, he wisely raised his hands in surrender. “Just saying, Bennie, some women experience heightened libidos from very early in the first trimester. Judging by your desperate grinding on my stomach, you’re feeling… needy.”
