I jerked slightly as Judah’s head leaned against my bare shoulder, a tear falling to my skin. I was a mess, both inside and out. Out of everyone I knew, he was the one person I’d tried to protect from ever seeing this side of me.
“Sorry,” I whispered, unsure if he’d heard me or not.
“Don’t worry, Zeek. I’ve got you now. Just let us help you. Okay?”
I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure what to say. Taking help wasn’t something I did. Not willingly, at least. In fact, now that I thought about it, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been offered help.
“I’m going to wash your back so I can see what we’re dealing with a bit better.” I didn’t have time to object before another warm cloth was run over the tender flesh of my back. I did my best to keep my breathing as even as possible, despite the tears that threatened to fall. I hated being seen as weak. Loathed it, actually.
Without warning, one of Judah’s hands latched onto mine, squeezing just hard enough to let me know he was there.
In the meantime, I desperately tried to focus on my breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Repeat.
After several minutes, my breathing evened out. I sat in silence while waiting for Mistress Destri to berate me about how stupid I’d been. How careless my actions were after everything I’d already gone through. In truth, she didn’t need to tell me anything because I was already beating myself up enough for the both of us.Then again, maybe her word lashing would help,I thought to myself as another wave of nausea rolled over me.
As if reading my thoughts, Mistress Destri muttered, “We’ll talk about your actions later. Once you’re feeling better.”
“No worse than yours.” The words were muffed, but she heard me all the same.
“That’s something else we need talk about. But not right now.”
“Why not?” Judah lifted his head from my shoulder, a questioning look on his face.
“He’s not in the right frame of mind.”
“Oh––okay.” Even as out of it as I felt, I could hear the dejectedness in his voice.
“Zeek only gets migraines in certain instances. In all the time since I’ve known him, he’s only had one other. Which means…” she turned to look at me knowingly, “he let a Dom go too far.
“Okay?” Judah appeared confused.
“I don’t like subspace.” My voice sounded whiny, even to my own ears.
“I know, sweetie,” Destri responded as she began to rub some sort of ointment into the cuts and bruises that littered my back.
“I don’t understand,” Judah pried. “I know what subspace is––not that I’ve ever been there––and I know what a Dom is because Eli’s one. What I don’t understand is why would he be like this?”
“Each individual has a different reaction to what Dom’s do,” she explained. I’ll admit, I was grateful for her explanation because I was too tired to even try. I wouldn’t have the faintest clue how to explain to anyone how it worked for me. All I knew was that I was odd. “For Zeek, if not done properly, he spirals down like this. And he does so without warning.”
Judah didn’t say anything, but I’m assuming he gave off some sort of hint that he was breaking down as Mistress Destri was quick to add, “He’ll be okay. He has us. And that’s what counts.”
Judah
The tears wouldn’t stop falling. I couldn’t explain it, but I hurt because Zeek was hurting. His pain was mine. It always had been. From the moment I was thrown into that dark, damp cell with him, we had an unmistakable connection. One that I still didn’t understand.
After getting him cleaned up, the two of us laid on the couch, his head resting on my chest like a personal pillow. Mistress Destri had draped a blanket over our bodies, careful to leave his back uncovered to allow his cuts to breathe. Several of the deeper ones were still oozing a bit of blood, but she assured me that he was going to be okay.
He had to be okay because I didn’t know if I’d survive otherwise.
