“Yes. A dynamic like that takes time, energy, and knowledge. Without that foundation, it can twist into something ugly. Abuse parading under a thin title.” Steel crept into his voice, hardening beneath the careful control.
The air between us shifted. Whatever this thing was—whatever world he’d lived in—it wasn’t about sex games or cheap thrills.
“Okay.” I dragged the word out, tasting it, buying time. “So—just to be sure I have this right. You’re a dominant. They were your submissives. You were in… non-typical”—I paused, searching for the right phrasing, forgetting half the terms he’d used—”relationships. Where there was some kind of exchange of power. Something you needed, and they gave willingly.”
He nodded, shoulders easing by an almost imperceptible degree.
My eyes traced the lines of his face, searching for more lies.
I groaned, pointing with my chin toward the couch, a silent invitation.
He exhaled, slow and deep, then followed me into the living room.
I tucked myself into the corner of the sofa, curling my legs beneath the blanket that always lived there. The fabric was soft, grounding. Familiar. Something in this room still belonged entirely to me.
He sat opposite me—Candace’s usual spot. He held none of her grace. Her ease.
Not now.
Not in this moment.
“Did you ever hurt any of them?”
He stilled; uncertainty etched in the lines of his mouth.
“Damien,” I warned.
“No,” he said at last—“At least, not on purpose.”
I went still, waiting. Hoping for the explanation I knew had to come.
“Remember how I said things could get intense?” he said, finally lifting his gaze. “Well… sometimes accidents happen. I do everything I can to prevent that—close every gap I can think of beforehand—but some of the…” He hesitated, attention flicking away. “Activities can be dangerous in and of themselves.”
“Activities?” A disbelieving laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
He gave a low, self-deprecating chuckle and looked back at me. “Some of the things we did wouldn’t exactly fall under the category of normal. And some of them weren’t even sexual.”
I frowned.
“Some activities were more about relaxation. Release.”
“Like yoga?” I asked, my patience thinning.
His mouth twitched. “No.Not like yoga.”
“Then give me an example.”
He grimaced. “I don’t really think you would—”
“I’m asking the questions I need answers to, Damien.” My tone was flat, unyielding. “I’m trying to understand.”
He drew a steadying breath. “Okay. But it’s important to know these dynamics aren’t one-size-fits-all. Everything depends on the people involved. An example of an activity would be… spanking.”
My eyes widened. “Like a punishment?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “Other times, it’s for enjoyment. Or relaxation.”
I blinked at him. “I can’t see how hitting someone would be fun or relaxing.”
