Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Freedom Mansion
Eden
I sit on the bottom step of the sweeping staircase in the palatial foyer of Freedom Mansion. The silk, scarlet rope slips through my hands, as I check confidently that it isn’t frayed like D’Angelo has taught me.
Late morning sunlight streams through the arched window. I haven’t turned on the chandelier. My head is throbbing enough without adding artificial light.
At least it doesn’t hurt as much as it did last night.
Why did Robyn have to take one look at me when I arrived at the tour bus yesterday with my brother in tow and demand what pain level I was at?
I could have lied.
But Cody has taught me my lesson about doing that.
Is it strict physiotherapists or friends who teach you about honesty?
After the Webbs almost broke my brother, the fucking monsters, I should have been rink side, watching him play his next game.
Have I let him down?
I shouldn’t have broken my promise. I don’t do that. Yet Shay told me that I hadn’t.
We were standing by ourselves to the side of the bus under the light rain.
Shay pushed his damp hair out of his eyes, giving me a smile that I didn’t feel like I deserved.
“If you came with us, then I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, and that’s what you’re normally yelling at me.
Concentrate, Shay. Right? So, go home. It’s a long drive to the Penguins’ arena.
Make yourself some tea, yummy snacks, and watch the game from the comfort of our lounge.
Don’t go to bed late. We’re staying over in a hotel. We’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”
I arched my brow. “You’re giving me orders?”
“If it keeps you safe. You’re my twin.”
I understood.
Standing together — alone — on that beach, I’d felt it too.
For such a long time, we’d only had each other. The Webbs rejecting us both again had proved it all over again.
Yet Robyn and D’Angelo had been standing beside my brother. They were looking at me with concern in their eyes.
We weren’t alone any longer.
“Can I add a strong suggestion as well?” D’Angelo’s gaze met mine. “Relax tonight. I’ll send you a special task for tomorrow morning.”
Special task.
I brightened because that meant D’Angelo’s dom coaching.
Robyn clutched my hand. “Do you want me to stay home with you, my phoenix? I’m worried about you feeling unwell and being by yourself. We can watch the game together on TV.”
Shay stiffened.
He didn’t say anything, but I noticed immediately how closed off his expression became.
It didn’t matter how much my heart leaped that Robyn was choosing to focus on my needs. How much it meant that she would miss a game for me.
Yet I would die for my brother.
Burn for him.
Again.
He’d just lost his last hope that he was loved by Man and Woman. His hope that they hadn’t known what selling us had meant.
I’d never held that hope.
Was that why he didn’t have the same darkness inside him that I did? Why he was sunny and optimistic, sparking with life? Why he understood the world in a way that I didn’t?
Or was it because of what the couple did to me in the Room…?
I shook my head, refusing to allow myself to think about that or the possibility that I was simply born this way.
All that mattered was that Shay needed Robyn by his side and to feel that he was surrounded by a true family who loved him.
“I’m fine.” I pulled my hand out of Robyn’s. “I’ll enjoy the quiet on my own.”
“Rude.” Robyn pouted.
“And when you win this game,” my gaze rested on Shay, and his shoulders straightened at my confidence in him, “and return home tomorrow, I will have set out the next reward.”
Robyn blushed. “How do you know what it is?”
D’Angelo leaned closer to her, murmuring, “He’s my apprentice. Bad luck, principessa. Are you scared? You have a pack of doms now. I am ruining Wilder this time because the Pucking Them Positions is…”
He broke off, and Robyn and Shay both watched him in spellbound anticipation. He was a master at building both anticipation and frustration.
They now have a whole day of delayed pleasure.
D’Angelo kissed her neck. “You are allowed to choose the next fantasy or trust me.”
“I trust you,” Robyn hurried to say, breathlessly.
D’Angelo pulled back. “We better get going. I’ll send you the details, Eden, for when we win.”
And they did.
As I’m alone, and there is no one to freak out, I allow myself to smile.
I sat with a bowl of popcorn and pain meds and watched the game.
D’Angelo and Shay kicked Wilder’s arse. They both scored three goals.
The Penguins played a dirty game, unraveling as the game went on. They were undisciplined, despite Wilder’s furious hollering.
Possibly because of it.
He’s not a captain. He’s a bully.
Yet the Bay Rebels had a clear strategy. The rest of the team rallied around D’Angelo and Shay, protecting them from the Penguins, anticipating their attacks.
It was fucking satisfying.
I stretched out alone in our bed, thinking that I would struggle to sleep. The satisfaction at the wild grins and joy of the Bay Rebels, however, when they celebrated at the end of the game, raising their sticks and hugging, meant that I slept better than I have in years.
Then this morning, I dressed in joggers and a gray t-shirt, only pushing myself in the gym as much as Cody medically allows, while the Arctic Monkeys blared loudly through the house. There is no D’Angelo to wince at my choice of English rock music.
It felt strange only needing to cook a full English breakfast for myself. Yet it was calming to keep the routine of cooking the breakfast that Mum would make for us each Sunday: fried eggs, bacon, two sausages, baked beans, and grilled tomatoes.
When Mum and Dad were struggling financially, I always knew it because we had to choose between having either bacon or a sausage. There were always plenty of baked beans.
After breakfast, I opened my emails in my office. I clicked quickly, when I saw the task that D’Angelo had sent me, as well as the fantasy scene.
D’Angelo has negotiated this scene with us several times. I know that it’s one of my brother’s top fantasies.
I can’t wait to attempt this position with Robyn.
Now, I glance at the pretty gray, silk panties and suspenders that lie on the marble floor next to my bare feet.
My eyes flash.
Then I drop the silk rope next to the panties in a coiled pile and concentrate on the Guide, which is balanced on my lap.
The others should be arriving home at any moment.
I need to finish the task.
…Write ten things that you need as a dom from your relationship with Robyn…
I had expected a tutorial on knot tying or flogging. Possibly, more research on the safety aspects of BDSM.
I would have preferred any of those tasks.
Once, D’Angelo sent me an email with the subject: PRICK.
I furrowed my brow, wondering what I’d done wrong for my normally laidback boss to send me insults via email.
But then, it turned out that PRICK stood for personal responsibility, informed, consensual kink.
There are too many acronyms.
At least D’Angelo chose to call his club On the RACK. Shay would have probably called it On the PRICK.
I stare down at the Guide on my knee before snatching up the black pen that rests on the step next to me. I clutch it to my chest.
Will Robyn mind the crossed out mess I have made of this page?
I started the task several times…failed…and started again.
It is hard to think of what I need, rather than what I can provide.
D’Angelo knows me too well.
I narrow my eyes.
Sometimes apprentices rebel. I emailed D’Angelo back that he should do the same task. When does he think about his needs?
I sigh.
One more to go.
I read through what I already have.
Robyn will be back soon, and when she is…
I glance down at the rope that is wound like a red snake on the floor.
The reward will be for all of us. Finally, the Bay Rebels have drawn one game ahead of the Penguins. We need to feel close, and I am not above tying up my lover to make sure of it.
No one is leaving me again.
I glance down at the Guide.
10 Things I Need as a Dom
To care and look after my sub
To feel safe
Romance
For my sub to be interested in me outside kink
I don’t want to be owned, and I don’t want to own my sub
To be seen
To be allowed to go at my own pace
No pressure to push my limits
To be trusted
I clack the pen against my teeth.
One more.
How different is my list to one that D’Angelo would write?
I know that he would want to own Shay. I just don’t know how much. Shay doesn’t even try to hide from me how much he craves to be owned.
Collared.
I don’t understand it. Hate the thought of it.
Yet I am coming to understand that it’s what my twin needs.
Suddenly, I realize what my last thing should be on the list — the most important.
I wouldn’t play any of these games, which are new to me, without it. I know for definite that I am different to both D’Angelo and Shay in this.
Possibly, that’s what scares me.
I scribble at the bottom:
10. Love
But what if the possessiveness and kinky games that D’Angelo plays aren’t connected to love — just like Shay describes some of the other people’s dynamics who he is meeting through On the RACK?
It’s clear that D’Angelo has always loved Robyn.
Part of me is frightened, however, that the love he feels for Shay is the love for a sub.
Is that different?
I don’t know.
This is new to me.
If Shay’s heart is broken by D’Angelo because he doesn’t love him with his whole soul, then that’s the only thing that could break me.
I toss the Guide down onto the step, at the same time that the front door slams open.
Shay’s bright laughter is like the sunlight, which is spilling into the foyer.
I sit up straighter, alert.
Robyn is draped over Shay, as they stumble in together. She is smiling, wearing a floral cotton dress.
Shay is as casually dressed as I am in black joggers and t-shirt.
“Bro!” Shay’s face lights up. “How long have you been waiting there for us? Please don’t tell me that it’s been since last night?”