“Stop.” My hand clutches my chest because I’m nearly as breathless as when we finished dancing. “You’ve looked into … you’ve researched therapy methods … for me?”
He raises his palm to me and chuckles a little—apprehensive maybe? “To be transparent, I researched sexual therapies and spoke with an expert so I knew how best to proceed with you. Some of the things you had once been interested in … well, I wanted to find other ways of delivering.”
I get what he’s saying because there was a time when impact play would have thrilled me, but getting slapped around isn’t something I want to experience again in any regard. I’m sure that applies to other kinks as well. It makes sense that he’d register that, but to research … even with Magie Noire at his disposal, it’severything.
“Ryker, whathaven’tyou done for me?”
The glowing periwinkle-blue centerpiece glimmers in his glossy eyes before a shadow descends on them. “That would require discussing some of my regrets, which I don’t want to do tonight, but I’m working on rectifying it all.”
This night has been the oddest mix of heavy and light. And once again, his admission from the stairwell wallops me.
“Someday, you’ll let me carry your wounds. I have to believe that because the only way I get off that fucking floor is to save you from it.”
A tattered breath tears from me. “I think we’re about to fight.”
“Okay.” His characteristic intensity threads that word. He’s ready to go. “Lay it on me.”
I slip my feet into my heels, glancing at him while I buckle one of the ankle straps. “Don’t treat me like I’m broken.”
He scoffs, his jaw tight. “I’m treating you like a fierce woman who needs to be reminded of her strength. Fucking different.”
There he is.
“Well”—I scan the ballroom, knowing he’s expected to be out there, that this break was only to refuel—“maybe it’s time you man up and remember your damn promises.”
I bite back the smile that’s intent on creeping up my cheeks and peer at him as I finish with the buckle on my other shoe. And only because he knows me so well does he realize I’m referring to the stupid shit he said this afternoon—well, technically, yesterday afternoon.
“Say that F-word in reference to me again, and I’ll fuck it out of you.”
To his credit, he appears utterly menacing. “If you say that fucking word right now, it’s over. There will be no more holding back, no more restraint—”
“You’ve been claiming I was yours untilthe end of fucking time, blathering on about strings and all that, so I don’t really buy it.” I harrumph and gallop my nails on the table. “You’re all talk and no cock, Noire. What would be so differentthis time? Maybe you should get back to your party.”
He drags my chair to him, so forcefully that I have to grip the sides to keep from toppling, though the way he ensnares me solves that too.
Gliding his hands up my bare thighs, he leans into me, his knees brushing mine, his tone gravelly and lethal. “You want the answer to that, Merce? Say that fucking word, and I’ll split you in two. You’ll feel me in your lungs, stealing your goddamn breath. And you’ll no longer be playing a role. You’ll be my radiant, used queen, sashaying around here with my cum dripping down your thighs, your wrecked cunt shouting whose you are for days. Not that you’ll get a break. Because once I’m there, I plan to fucking stay.”
That’s a freaking answer.
“Understood.” I shimmy sideways in my chair, popping my hip so I can cross my legs and rest casually on the back.
As if that didn’t soak my panties. As if I’m not on fire. As if every second of him not touching me doesn’t feel like a slow death.
Returning my attention to the dance floor, I watch for at least half a song while his steely gaze burns holes in my cheek. But he waits with patience he must be summoning from the beyond.
Finally, I turn toward him with every ounce of nonchalance I can muster. “Thank you for letting me know.” My teeth scrape over my lip, and he tracks the movement, so I let the next word fall like a band being pulled back in slow motion. “Friend.”
And he snaps.
MERCY
Pivotal realizations don’t always arrive like a lightning strike. Happening all at once. But the subtlety of the awakening doesn’t make it any less of a storm.
Especially once the elements are stacked on top of one another, creating an epiphany.
It’s the way the distant waves swell and the sky adorns itself in a violet that is alarmingly beautiful.
It’s the rumble too far away to be considered yours, and yet you can’t ignore it.
