Damien flipped his blinker on, pulling into an empty grocery store parking lot, and parked the car. The engine ticked in the sudden silence.
"Wha—?"
"Sorry, but this conversation needs more focus than I could give while driving."
My heart stuttered. "Okay..."
He shifted in his seat, one arm draping over the steering wheel as he studied me with an intensity that made me want to squirm.
"The braiding," he started. "It wasn't about the hair."
"I figured that much."
"It was about transition." He searched my face, looking for understanding. "Taking her from the outside world—the stress, the noise, the expectations—and bringing her into our space. My space. The braid was the vehicle. Something physical to anchor the mental shift."
Like he was preparing me for something sacred.
"She said you'd whisper things to her," I said quietly. "Affirmations. Reminders about safewords."
"Yes." No hesitation. No embarrassment. "I needed to know she was present. That she understood what we were about to do and that she had the power to stop it at any moment." His gaze dropped to my collar, then back up. "The ritual was as much for me as it was for her. A way to check in. To make sure I was worthy of what she was about to give me."
The vulnerability cracked me open, jealousy slithering in. Hishands in her hair. His mouth at her ear. Words that should have been mine.
"The things I said to her aren't the same things I say to you."
I blinked. "What?"
"I know what you're thinking. I can see it." A sad smile tugged at his mouth. "You're picturing it. Me with her. And you're wondering if everything I whisper to you is recycled. Words I've used before."
"What I had with Vivian was real," he continued, "but it was structured. Practiced. The affirmations were about safety. Grounding. Preparation for a scene." He reached for my hand, fingers interlacing. "The things I say to you—when I call you love, when I tell you you're beautiful, when I tell you how proud I am of you—that's not protocol, Emma. That's not ritual."
His thumb traced across my knuckles.
"That's us."
"I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that," I admitted, the words washing away the image of Vivian kneeling at his feet.
"It's not the same," he said firmly. "Not even close."
I exhaled slowly, letting the reassurance settle into my bones.
"Did you..." I swallowed. "Would you want to do that with me? The braiding, I mean. Or something like it?"
"The ritual itself? Or the protocols in general?"
I shifted in my seat. "I don't know. Vivian made it sound like it was something you needed. Not just something you liked."
He went quiet. Doubt started to creep in—maybe I'd pushed too far.
Maybe I'd—
He took a breath. "We already agreed to a few rules, Emma. At the collaring."
"I know, but we never really..."
"No. We didn't." He exhaled slowly. "We had one day. Less than that. And then the leak happened, and Sebastian, and—" He shook his head. "I kepttelling myself I'd get back to it once things settled. Once I had the energy to do it properly. But weeks kept passing, and I couldn't—"
"You were exhausted," I cut in.
