“Get this notion that I’ll do what you want out of your head. You are mine and you’ll take what I have to give you.I’lldecide if you come, or if you sit in a puddle and go all night without coming. I will give you everything you need, Babygirl, and you’ll love it. Let daddy take care of you.”
His face was a mask of dominance. “Please,” I mouthed the word, but no sound came out.
“I love it when you beg,” he sighed. His fingers picked up their speed. I half-moaned, half-cried.
“Dane,” I whispered.
“Let go, baby. Let go and I’ll give you what you need,” he murmured calmly.
I was raw, seen, and filleted open. But only Dane saw, and the disgust I expected never came.What was I still holding on to? What was I hiding from?Fear held me back. I refused to give something so precious away again. The thought of someone hurting a part of me destined to never heal scared me shitless. But Dane wouldn’t give me what I wanted until I gave him something in return.
“Okay,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure he heard—until the angle of his thrust changed. He’d heard me. My vision blurred as my eyes crossed, but just as I neared the edge, he pulled his fingers from me. He was going to let me come—or so I thought.Needy. Desperate. I needed to come.Tears and snot streaked my face, and I sobbed.
He didn’t stop until I was vibrating, the sting of his palm replaced by a thrumming heat that demanded release. His fingers found my center, and I came so hard my vision fractured. I didn’t just sob; I unraveled.
My body twitched, any stress I brought here seeped from my bones as he ripped another orgasm from me. When I came down from the high, the room was silent except for the crackle of the fire. My breathing was ragged, but Dane didn’t toss me aside. He gathered me up, his large arms a fortress as he tucked my head under his chin.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, his voice no longer a command, but a promise.
Our eyes met, the truth of us bare. We were both just survivors with different scars. He chose armor and authority; Ichose flinching and silence. But here, on this rug, the armor was off.
***
Dane held me as if I were something fragile he’d just finished reclaiming. He settled us onto the rug, reaching for a heavy, dark grey throw. It was weighted, the beads inside shifting as he draped it over me. He pulled me back against his chest, my spine tucked into the heat of his abdomen, his arms wrapping over the blanket.
For a long time, the only sound was the fire. The gold light flickered over the ink on his forearms, the snake slithering.
“We aren’t going anywhere today,” he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of my ear.
“Becausethatdoesn’t sound like a threat.” I laughed, throwing my head back.
“Take it however you like. We’re staying here. No roles, Vera. No Daddy, no Sergeant… that’s for later. Right now, we trade.”
“A trade?” I whispered, staring into the embers.
“A truth for a truth.” His hand moved under the blanket, heavy and warm, his palm flattening against my stomach while his thumb traced the swell of my hip.
“First question,” he started, his voice dropping into a low rumble. “What’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to tell someone, but were too afraid they’d use it against you?”
The air in my lungs turned to lead. He was prodding the Amos-shaped gap in my chest. I stared into the flames. My body was jello, and his hold was the only thing keeping me upright.
“That I didn’t just survive him,” I admitted, the words bitter on my tongue. “I let him convince me I was nothing without the pain. I was afraid if I told anyone how deep the rot went, they’d see I wasn’t worth saving. That I was just… broken.”
Dane’s grip tightened, an unspoken oath. He didn’t offer pity. He waited.
“My turn,” I said, my heart thumping against his forearm. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I traced the snake on his bicep. “The angel, on your back. Why are the wings just bones? Why is he grounded?”
I felt the tension vibrate through him. He took a slow, heavy breath. “Because I grew up in a system where the people supposed to fly you to safety were the ones who clipped your wings,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion—which made it hurt worse. “That tattoo is for the kid I was. He waited for an angel that never came. So, he did his best with what was left. He didn’t need to fly, he just needed to be too heavy to move, a wall of indestructible muscle.”
He turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with mine. His skin was rough, proof of a hard earned life.
“Next,” he countered. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of the blanket suddenly the only thing keeping my secrets from spilling onto the rug. “I have one. Something I’ve never shared.”
Dane went still. He adjusted the blanket, tucking it tighter around me.
“I can’t smell,” I whispered, the words feeling insignificant, yet heavy. “Anything. Not the fire, the rain… you. It’s gone. The doctors couldn’t find any nerve damage. It’s just trauma. In a world where scent exposes the feelings of those around you, reveals your mate, or warns you from danger, I live muted.”
