I wince. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll earn your trust.”
My flinch feels more like someone’s hit me and made me stumble a little with the force of it. “I do trust you. I swear.”
He presses his lips to my head where they remain for a few seconds. It’s a strange feeling. I don’t feel… innocent, exactly, but I feel like I become far more… young in nature when I letmyself go to fully embrace being Dasan’s omega. It’s not an age-play thing. That’s not what I feel. But with youth comes a certain amount of innocence. As if I’ve lost many of my life’s experiences and been transported to a more impressionable time.
I’m not sure that makes sense, but that’s what I equate this feeling to. When you’re young, and the thought of disappointing the person most important to you makes it difficult to breathe. All you want is their approval. Their smile. Their love.
This is a little different because we’re adults. I want all those things, but it’s no longer with the innocence of a child. It’s with a man for whom I want to be his sole source of… well, everything.
“Your heart is going to jump out of your chest, omega,” he says quietly, his voice almost a purr.
I take a deep breath and focus on getting my breathing under control. “I trust you,” I say. It’s true. It is. I trust Dasan more than anyone. “That doesn’t mean I’m not afraid. I’m here as proof of that. Despite my anxiety of being outed, I’m here.”
“You know, I agree that that’s a sign of your trust in me. However, we weren’t entirely talking about trust. We were talking about being on the same page. I need to learn from other doms, but I think you don’t care to learn from other subs.”
My mouth opens to argue, but… I think he’s right. I don’t really care about that. I chew the inside of my lip for a minute then shake my head. I don’t answer because I’m not sure how to answer. I guess I don’t see why I need to learn from others. Why can’t we just have our own thing?
I’m left feeling a little unbalanced as we get off the ferry onto Bane Island. There’s a locker complex here where I see people depositing and picking up their phones. I don’t take my hand out of Dasan’s, but I end up gripping it tighter. My heart pounds, and no matter how much I try to convince myself that no one will take our picture and post it all over the internet, I can’t convince my brain that it won’t happen.
Especially not when we pass a large bulletin that serves as a warning to all non-Kala residents, reminding them that they’re now moving into a technology-permitted zone.
“You okay?” Dasan asks as we walk down the road. He appears to know where we’re going, for which I’m thankful. I can’t force my mind to concentrate on this route no matter how hard I try.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Do you need a warning about lying right now?”
I glance at him and shake my head. “You already know I’m anxious and afraid,” I point out. “Which means I think my ‘yes’ is a loophole since you already know, so beyond those two things I’m feeling, yes, I’m fine.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. I’m relieved when he picks up our linked hands and kisses the back of mine. I don’t know why exactly, but it allows me to take a deep breath. Maybe I thought he was angry with me, and that eased my mind a bit.
As we leave the area of the docks where restaurants and shops are, we’re deposited into what is clearly reminiscent of a suburban neighborhood. There are even kids here. Dasan weaves us along streets until he looks at the number on the mailbox and inclines his head.
“I haven’t seen a single car,” I note.
“Nope. I haven’t either.”
He squeezes my hand and leads me to the door. Oh god, I want to sink into the ground right now. What if someone in that house is a hockey fan?! They may not recognize me, but they might recognize Dasan. One innocent picture is all it’ll take to out us.
I’m fighting my internal panic when the door opens, bringing us face-to-face with a man that can only be described as a biker. He’s big, hairy, covered in tats, and wearing a leather vest covered in patches, a leather collar, and leather pants oversocked feet. I haven’t seen a car on this island, but are there bikes?
“Hi,” he greets in his deep, rough voice. “You must be Dasan and Shively.”
Dasan nods. “Yes. Are you Miles?”
The man’s eyes widen. “Oh no! No. I’m Harvey, Master Emmett’s boy. Master Miles is out back. Come this way. I’ll lead you to him. You may take your shoes off at the door if you please.”
Dasan and I step inside and out of our shoes. We follow the big guy through a beautiful, airy house and onto the back porch. There’s a whole lot of people here, and I hold my breath, waiting for that telltale sign of recognition. A flash going off.
I’m distracted as the big Harvey kneels in front of someone that reminds me a lot of Noah Kain. There’s something soft and beautiful about him. His longer hair is up in two buns. He’s wearing a skirt and nothing else but some impeccably done makeup and nails.
He nods, pleased when Harvey kneels at his feet in the same fashion that I kneel at Dasan’s. Uh… wow.
I’m distracted from my distraction of the surprising scene when a man steps in front of us. He offers his hand to Dasan, likely having guessed right that I am not the dominant here. Maybe it’s my deer-in-the-headlights look as I take them all in.
“Dasan?” he asks.
