Chapter 10
10
I don’t think she realizes it, but Blair’s hands are shaking. I’ve never seen her like this. She’s terrified .
I send as much calming energy as I can through where my hand holds hers. Her eyes search mine, looking for something. Maybe my own fear?
She won’t find it. Yes, I was scared when I first found out that she was a vampire. Who wouldn’t be? After I processed the shock, all I felt was awe. She saved Mona and Max’s lives, for fuck’s sake.
Blair is amazing. The coolest, strongest, smartest, prettiest person I’ve ever met. My chest aches for her. I want to pull her into a hug and tell her she’ll be okay. She’d never let me, but the urge is still there.
“We won’t,” I repeat, patting her hand before pulling mine back. I give her a soft smile and cross my arms over my chest. “You know, it’s kind of rude to make the conversation all about you when someone is telling you about their worries.”
Blair’s eyes go wide in alarm, but it wipes away the haunted look. “I didn’t mean to?—”
My cackling laugh cuts her off, and she glares at me, but the side of her mouth twitches. She can’t fool me.
“Brat,” she mutters under her breath, then takes a swig of her “wine”.
“You love it,” I tease.
Her tongue darts out to swipe away a bead of blood on her lip, and my pulse quickens. “It’s annoying.”
I scowl at her playfully and she finally cracks, grinning back at me. God, she’s stunning when she smiles. No wonder she rarely does it. It’s too powerful for us mere mortals.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment and I realize how much I’ve missed this.
“You need to be careful,” she says suddenly.
“What?” I ask, falling out of my peaceful daze.
“With Declan. If you have spine issues, you need to tell him about it before you do anything.”
“Oh. Right! That makes sense.” I’d completely forgotten that only a few hours ago, I was freaking out about his offer.
The mood between us shifts, the silence much less enjoyable. I squirm, wondering why Blair is so averse to discussing this stuff with me.
“Do you think I’m not cut out for it?” I blurt. She furrows her brow in confusion. “Kink. Submission.”
“No. ”
Well, okay then. That explains the weirdness. She’s an expert, and must be able to tell I won’t be good at it.
I do a terrible job of hiding my stricken reaction by grabbing my gross drink and taking a swig. The bubbles from the soda water go up my nose, sending me into a coughing fit.
“Are you okay?”
I fight off another cough and nod. “Yeah. Totally fine. I’m great.” I wipe away the tears that I’m blaming on the coughing and not my bruised feelings.
Blair’s eyes narrow. “You’re not.”
“I mean, I’m a little disappointed.” More like crushed. I try to sound casual, going to grab my drink again like a dumbass.
Blair reaches across the table and takes it away. “Stop torturing yourself.”
“If I don’t, then who will? You just said I’m not cut out for being a submissive,” I say with a weak laugh.
“No, I didn’t,” Blair says, brow furrowing slightly.
I throw my hands up and stand in exasperation. “You literally told me ‘no’ when I asked you!” I catch Tomas raising a concerned brow from over at the bar and sit back down before I disturb the peace in the bar any more.
“I said ‘no’ when you asked if you weren’t cut out for it.”
“Oh.” Damn double negative. “So… that means you think I’d be good at it?”
Blair shakes her head and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Grace.”
“Then why don’t you want to talk to me about it?” I ask. I shouldn’t push, but I don’t want this discomfort I sense between us whenever the subject comes up.
She doesn’t speak for a long time. I don’t let myself fill the silence, even though I’m dying to. Eventually, she takes a long swig of her drink, then folds her hands in her lap and looks at me calmly. “It’s my job. I’d rather not talk about work stuff while I’m hanging out with friends.”
“But you helped Mona!” I protest. I know I’m being childish, but her answer doesn’t make sense.
It doesn’t phase her. “She didn’t have anyone else to guide her, and I was worried she’d do something dangerous.” Blair sighs again. “You don’t need me. You’ve met someone who is more than qualified to be your dominant. I’d rather keep things… separate.”
It makes sense, though I still feel like there’s something she’s not saying. I don’t particularly like it, but I need to respect her boundaries. Even I know that’s kink 101. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” She nods and her stiff, formal posture relaxes. “Now, did I make things too awkward, or should I go see if Tomas can make you a drink you’ll actually like?”
I smile. “Not too awkward. I appreciate the honesty.”
I do. I’m just not sure why it still hurts, even though I have a reasonable explanation.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I mutter to myself as I pull into The Vault’s parking lot. The sense of dread about my trial session with Declan is now far outweighing any excitement I initially had.
When I got home from my drink with Blair a week ago, I texted the handsome dom. We agreed to meet up back at The Vault tonight. We talked through our session—or scene, as I learned it’s called—ahead of time, and he answered all of my questions. I know what to expect, hypothetically.
It should’ve helped, but having it all laid out like that made me agonize about every step in the week leading up to our session. I spent far too long overthinking what I’ll look like on my knees. I went through my entire closet, trying to find an outfit that looks good enough. I even practiced crawling in front of a mirror to assess how awkward and silly I looked.
The verdict on that was not good.
I’m a fairly adventurous person. I get nervous, but I do things anyway. So I force myself to get out of my car and walk to the entrance, attempting to chalk my anxiety up to new experience jitters, even though this feels different.
It doesn’t help that my neck is bothering me. I slept weird on Wednesday night and spent all day Thursday and Friday trying to coax the muscles in my neck and shoulders to chill out and stop the sharp pain whenever I turn my head. I’m still in pain tonight, but am determined to go. I’ve already expended so much energy worrying and I can’t bear to lose this opportunity because my body doesn’t want to cooperate.
When I meet Declan in The Vault’s lobby, my legs are shaking so badly I’m worried they’ll give out on me. I curse my decision to wear heels instead of something more stable. He looks good, in a crisp black button down and well-tailored pants that are better suited for after-work drinks than a night at a kink club.
A broad smile stretches his lips when he sees me. “Rose. You look beautiful.”
Normally when someone compliments me, I preen. Maybe do a twirl and show off the way the skirt of my dress flares up and give them a flash of my thighs. I’m not shy about my appearance, and I don’t shy away from appreciation of it. So it shocks me when my face heats and I almost trip.
He reaches out to stabilize me, and I take his arm, laughing to try to play off my reaction as clumsiness instead of nerves .
“Thank you, Sir.” I tack on the honorific he’d given me to call him, unsure if I should start right away.
His eyes fill with approval, which makes me want to sigh with relief that I didn’t fuck things up immediately.
“I reserved one of the private rooms. Would you like to hang out in the main area for a bit first, or go there now?”
Waiting and worrying any longer might kill me. I give him what I hope is a flirty half-smile, but I’m off my game. “I’m ready if you are.”
“I’ve been ready, sweetheart,” he says, his deep rasp making my stomach clench.
Declan offers his arm and I take it in a vise grip, attempting to anchor myself to this solid man so I don’t fall and eat shit in front of a room full of people. I already stand out enough in the pale blue a-line dress and matching pumps. Becoming a spectacle is at the bottom of my list of desired activities tonight.
He leads me to a small private room which doesn’t match my mental image of what a kinky playroom would be. It looks like an office. Pale gray walls, a polished wood desk, a bookcase, and a large brown leather couch.
When Declan shuts the door behind us, I notice, with a mixture of relief and alarm, that there’s no lock. Logically, I’m not worried about him harming me after Blair vouched for him, but there’s always that instinctual fear that a seemingly nice man will turn into a monster behind closed doors.
No lock means someone could come help me.It also means that anyone could come inside.
My eyes linger on the door for too long, and Declan notices. “No one will come in uninvited.”
“Right.” I turn away from the door and scan the space again. “Maybe I should’ve gotten that schoolgirl costume. ”
Declan’s mouth quirks. “You keep bringing that up. If that’s a fantasy of yours, I’m happy to incorporate it into a future scene.”
I flush and shake my head. “It isn’t a specific kink of mine, but I know it’s a lot of men’s fantasy. So I’d be amenable, if you wanted me to do that.”
He’s moved over to a bar cart by the desk, pouring two glasses of water from a carafe set on top. “These scenes aren’t about catering to what I want. It’s about me giving you what you need, princess.” His gaze drags down my body. “And thoroughly enjoying myself in the process. You’re perfect the way you are.”
He passes me a glass, and I drink down the contents gratefully, parched from nerves. I watch his throat work as he does the same. Goddamn, he’s gorgeous. Being here with him feels more like a fever dream than anything that would happen in real life.
If Declan notices me checking him out, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He takes my glass back and I almost jolt and drop it when his fingers brush mine. That he does notice.
He sets the glasses down on the cart and gestures for me to sit on the couch. The leather creaks as I lower myself onto it, and when I go to cross my legs, it sticks to my sweat-damp skin.
Declan sits down next to me and rests his hand on my thigh. He waits to see if I’m okay with that, like I’m a skittish animal he’s coaxing. Which, I guess I might as well be. God, it’s ridiculous how much anxiety is coursing through my system.
“Have we started, Sir?” I ask, my voice higher pitched than usual.
He squeezes my thigh. “Yes. Remember—green is keep going, yellow is you need to pause, and red is stop. Nothing we’ll do tonight will prevent you from speaking, and when I ask you for your color, be honest. I won’t get upset if something is too much. Alright, princess? ”
“Y-yes, Sir.” I can barely get the reply out.
Declan pats my leg and stands, grabbing a pillow from the couch and setting it on the floor by his feet. His eyes lock on mine. “Kneel.”
Oh fuck, this is it. It takes a moment for my body to respond, but when it cooperates, I almost fall on my face with how fast I scramble to get to the floor.
Once I’m in position, I clasp my hands together. In all my mental walkthroughs of how tonight would go, I couldn’t figure out if I was supposed to look down at the floor or maintain eye contact. The internet was no help. I settle for staring straight ahead, and am greeted by the sight of Declan’s thick, muscular thighs encased in his tailored pants. And his crotch.
My stomach sinks. There’s no outline of his cock pressing against the fabric. He’s not even semi-hard. He’d not aroused. I’m fucking this up already.
My head bows forward as I attempt to hide my reaction before I make things worse. I watch his feet as he steps back. My eyes close as I take a deep breath, trying to get myself under control. I listen as he circles around me, and can’t stop my small flinch when he strokes a hand down my hair.
“Color?”
“Green,” I reply automatically. Why wouldn’t I be okay? All I’ve done is kneel.
“Good girl. You look beautiful on your knees, princess.” He strokes my hair again, then places his hand under my chin and guides me to look up at him.
As I tip my head back, the pain in my neck flares, and I suck in a breath through my teeth.
Shit. I didn’t tell him about my neck. I was going to if things worked out okay tonight, but was too embarrassed to bring up my pathetic body right away. I didn’t think it would matter.
Declan’s cool assessment as I force my eyes to meet his is a sharp contrast to his previous demeanor. I inhale, and this close, his cologne hits my nose like a slap to the face.
It’s the same cologne Zack wears.
My stomach lurches. Memories of all the times my ex-husband fed me disingenuous compliments to placate me when I worried that something was off surge through my mind. Him telling me I’m beautiful. Saying he doesn’t need anything else. All lies.
Just like Zack, Declan is looking down at me and he can see I’m not worth the effort.
The urge to cry or throw up roils inside me. I dig my nails into my palms as hard as I can, trying to focus on that physical pain instead of the absurd emotions washing over me.
This is supposed to be exciting. I’m supposed to be having fun. Why am I like this?
An eternity passes as Declan watches me, occasionally touching my hair or teasing his fingers across my shoulders, toying with the straps of my dress but never pushing them down. I told him I was okay with undressing, so I don’t understand why I’m not naked. Doesn’t he want to see me? My body is the one thing that men seem to like about me. It’s the rest that fucks things up.
He must decide he’s had enough of looking down at me, because he offers me a hand. “Get up and place your hands flat on the desk.”
My palms are sweaty and I’m loath to touch him with them, but I stand and move to the desk. I might be flawed, but I can at least do what he asks.
I bend at the waist to place my hands on the desk, hoping it can bolster me through what comes next. This is what I’ve spent years fantasizing about. I need to get my shit together and relax so I can enjoy it.
“Very good, princess. Color?”
“G-green, sir.” Fuck, did my voice sound as shaky to him as it did to me?
Declan smooths a hand down my spine, ghosting across my ass to the hem of my dress. He hooks his fingers under it and drags it up to my waist, exposing my panties.
My pulse spikes. What if I don’t react the right way? He’ll know how frigid I am if I can’t even take a light spanking properly. He’ll tell me he’s changed his mind about being my dom.
Gnawing shame makes me lightheaded and queasy, and my cheeks burn despite the icy dread thrumming inside me.
Why do I bother? I’ll never be enough. I’m broken.
“Rose, what’s your color?” Declan asks, concern obvious in his voice.
It tips me over the edge. I burst into tears.
I don’t give him my color, but he must know it’s not the good, cathartic kind of crying. He quickly pushes my skirt back down and wraps an arm around my waist, guiding me up and over to the couch. He pulls me into his lap and presses me against his chest in a hug.
“It’s okay, Rose. Let go. Let it out.”
I sob deep, ugly tears that make my entire body shudder. He holds me tight as the tsunami of emotion crashes into me for god knows how long.
When I start to calm and realize that I just soaked a practical stranger’s shirt with snot and tears, I stiffen. Declan rubs my back in soothing circles. “You did so well, sweetheart.”
I push out of his hold and wipe my face with the back of my hands. Thank god for waterproof mascara. How fucking embarrassing. “You’re joking, right?” I ask, frowning at him.
Declan’s face holds no judgment, only calm empathy. It makes me want to cry again. “No. Sometimes scenes trigger unexpected emotions, and that’s okay. It’s not uncommon to have a strong reaction your first time.”
“But we didn’t do anything!” I protest. Why is he being so nice?
He shakes his head. “You tapped into some really strong emotions. You let yourself feel them and trusted me to help you come down from them. That’s not nothing.”
“Maybe. But I failed the test,” I say weakly.
Declan frowns and takes my hand in his. “There was no test, Rose. You don’t have to prove anything. What happens next is up to you. I’m not going to rescind my offer to teach you because you cried. If you want to try again sometime, we can. If you want to pretend this never happened and run away, at least let me give you aftercare a little longer before you drive home.”
“I… Thank you. I’ll think about it.” I smile weakly at him and he gives me another hug.
Pressed against his chest, I know it’s a lie. I can’t imagine a repeat of this with him. I’d be too embarrassed and worried I’d break down again. I never want to think about this disaster of a night again.