Chapter 19
Captain’s Hall, Freedom
Shay
I’m curled around Robyn. We’re lying on top of her violet quilt. She looks bloody gorgeous in a silk green suit. I play with her long hair, twisting it around my fingers.
Eden sits with his back against the wooden headboard on the other side of Robyn. He’s alternating glancing between me with concern and at D’Angelo who’s sprawled by himself in a heavy antique chair by the window.
I think D’Angelo’s brooding.
It’s like he has some bloody stupid idea in his head after yesterday that he doesn’t want to taint us with whatever secret that journalist unleashes next.
Tough.
It doesn’t matter what she says or what photograph she posts. We’re going to stand by our captain.
Light streams into the bedroom through the floor length window, making D’Angelo’s skin glow.
His black curls look even silkier than normal. I bite my lip, wishing that I could run my fingers through them like I am Robyn’s hair.
Heat floods me, when I remember how he loves to yank me around by my hair.
He’s a beast.
I smirk because that’s just how I love my men, apparently.
D’Angelo — unsurprisingly — looks immaculate in his navy team suit and blazer with team tie.
I forgot my tie.
It’s the one that we’re meant to wear because it’s covered with the official Bay Rebels logo.
I’m struggling to concentrate even more than usual. I’m on edge about the game tonight.
This season is huge for me.
Above me, the ceiling fan spins slowly.
I love Robyn’s bedroom.
It’s happy and welcoming like her.
The walls are painted a soft blue. Couches, a wardrobe, and a chest of drawers are surrounded by waves of books and abandoned chocolate wrappers.
I’m only wearing a white shirt, which hangs open, and black trousers.
There’s an hour to go, until we need to leave for the rink.
I should be buzzing with excitement more than nerves. We all should.
Yet I can’t even get myself to do up my shirt buttons because I’m waiting for what bombshell is going to drop next.
I hate that my first season is being poisoned like this.
Suddenly, my expression steels.
I’m not going to let someone do this to me. I’ve worked too bloody hard and been through too much to allow someone to play us like this.
I kiss Robyn’s ear. “How much longer, love?”
She stiffens, glancing down at the phone clutched in her hand. “Three minutes.”
I give an uneasy laugh. “It’s like the countdown of doom.”
“The sword of Damocles.” Eden’s heavy gaze lands on me. “Get dressed.”
Half-heartedly, I reach down to do up the bottom button on my shirt.
“What if the time goes past when Melanie wanted the live interview, and she actually doesn’t post anything else in revenge?” Robyn says, hopefully. “What if this has all been a bluff?”
D’Angelo snorts. “Wait, I know what this is called…optimism. Nope, wrong word, I meant naiveté.”
“What did Noah say, when you called him last night?” I ask.
I feel cold inside, when I think about being quite literally unmasked like Noah could be. I haven’t met the bloke, but he’s a Bay Rebels staff member and that makes me feel doubly protective.
Plus, at least I’m sure that Mum and Dad would be fine with me being both bisexual and submissive. I only want to be able to tell them myself, when I next see them.
It’s sick to have your sexuality, including if you identify as dominant or submissive, outed.
D’Angelo’s fingers curl around the arms of his chair. “He cried. It was a hard conversation. At least, his parents don’t know that it’s him. Yet. Silas is a fucking piece of work and he’d make things hard for Noah’s entire immediate family, including his younger brothers. I told Noah that he can call me anytime. If he’s thrown out of his home because of this, I’ve offered that he can stay at my mansion. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” Robyn says, passionately. “Fuck, we’ll do whatever we can. Cody says that Noah’s a nice guy too.”
“Yeah,” I agree. I push myself up, vibrating with an energy that has nowhere to go. “Anything that he needs. You’re allowed other friends too, darlin’. I’m sorry that I was a dick yesterday.”
D’Angelo’s lips quirk. “Maybe I found it hot that you’re possessive.”
I flush. “Maybe I just fancied being the kitten.”
“Misuse of cats,” Eden mutters.
Robyn pushes herself up to sit between Eden and me. She’s staring at the phone, looking pale.
D’Angelo and I had practice at the rink, before we came back for lunch. For the last couple of hours, however, Robyn’s barely looked away from the screen.
D’Angelo checks his Rolex. “One minute.”
“Fuck this,” I burst out. “Why don’t we just block the bitch? Or call the cops?”
“We can’t,” Robyn replies. “Hell, I want to. But blocking won’t make a difference because Melanie will still publish anyway. And even if the cops are prepared to arrest a journalist, then the scandal that it’d stir up would be as bad as what she’s doing to us now. She’d definitely reveal anything that she’s uncovered on D’Angelo, along with Noah’s name, if she knows it.”
“We’re being her puppets.” Eden’s stormy gaze meets mine, before it shifts to Robyn.
A look passes between them that I don’t understand.
“Sometimes, you can only start your new life by burning down your old one,” Robyn says like she’s quoting someone.
I scrunch up my nose. “Is that Shakespeare or one of those boring dead guys?”
Eden reaches across the bed to poke me in the shoulder in outrage. “Take that back.”
I should have known not to commit the Shakespeare sacrilege. “Boring dead guys like Dickens? Hardy? Tolkien?”
Why’s Robyn giving me the death glare now?
See, these are the moments in polyamorous relationships that are never shown in television shows: when both your lover and brother are sitting looking at you with unimpressed expressions because you don’t know a book quote.
I look at D’Angelo for help.
He only gives me a wicked smile. “One thing that you need to learn about Robyn is never insult a book. Since your brother treats them like his babies, you should know the same about him.”
Oh, I get it.
I give a dazzling smile. “You know that I’m an ally. So, it was a bloody boring dead woman, right?”
Eden groans, covering his face.
D’Angelo shakes his head. “There’s no saving your ass now.”
Confused, I blink. “What?”
When Robyn’s phone vibrates, she jumps. “Shit, a text from Melanie.”
I stiffen, sucking in a breath.
D’Angelo leaps out of his seat and takes a stride toward the bed. He looks pale but determined like he’s going to war.
What’s the second secret about him going to be?
My heart aches for him.
It was like being punched in the gut to see the man who I respect and admire so fucking much having a side to him that’s private and special splashed into the public eye.
Most of the comments online today have been about how hot he looked, although a lot were objectifying, and since they’re from strangers and fans, crossed the line.
Debates about the size of his cock or what holes he likes to fuck or have fucked are wrong.
He’s a real person. He doesn’t deserve to be talked about like that.
I only know because Eden showed me quietly in the study at lunch. I hope that D’Angelo has kept off social media like Robyn insisted.
When Eden also showed me the trolls that he’s been efficiently blocking, removing as many of the death threats and hate comments as he could, I understood why he’s been worried.
Has D’Angelo been putting up with this on his own, before he employed Eden? Did he simply not tell any of us?
No wonder his reputation in the press as the cocky playboy pissed him off so much.
It damaged him in a lot of ways.
“Hang on.” I hold up my hand, and D’Angelo hesitates. “What about if we look at this, but you don’t? We’re leaving for the big game in an hour. It’ll shake you, which is what Melanie wants.”
“What she wants,” D’Angelo growls, “is to hurt me.”
“Exactly,” I press. “So, why are we letting her again?”
“I’m just going to…”
“Sit down,” Eden orders.
D’Angelo sighs but sits on the end of the bed.
“We’ll look.” Robyn’s chewing on her bottom lip. “And only tell you before the game, if you truly need to know. We’ll crisis manage it like we did before. Then after the game, we’ll work out a way to bring Melanie down.”
I brighten. “Too right.”
Robyn presses on the link in the text.
Eden leans over her shoulder.
At the same time, they both freeze.
“Fuck.” Eden slams his hand onto his knee.
I startle both at his cussing and the way that he’s banged his hand onto his leg.
“What the fuck is it?” I scoot even closer to Robyn, peering at the screen.
I tense, worried about what I’ll see.
What’s secret number two?
It’s a photograph.
“Shay,” Eden says, brokenly.
Robyn’s gaze shoots to me in shock, before she tries to reach for me. I shy away from her touch, however, flinching.
I can’t look away from the screen.
The blurred photograph is of a naked man who’s curled in the fetal position on a bed. His hands are bound with ropes. It’s dark, he’s blindfolded, and his golden hair tumbles over his face, which is sweaty and wild in his distress.
He’s weeping.
Tears streak down his cheeks underneath the blindfold.
For a long moment, I can’t process what I’m seeing.
Then I’m thrown back to that night.
And everything comes crushing down on me so hard that I can’t breathe.
It’s me.
Blythe took photographs of me.
Eden’s saying my name.
Shay, Shay, Shay…
D’Angelo’s arms are around me. I’m being pulled against his hard chest.
I’m not responding.
I can’t.
In this moment, I’m not here.
I’m panicking.
My hands are tied too tightly in ropes that are burning them, and I’m curling as tightly around myself as I can like I can comfort myself that way.
“Red,” I mutter.
Immediately, D’Angelo releases me.
I scramble to the side of the bed and hurl.
I choke. My mouth is bitter with the acid taste of vomit.
I’m shaking.
Where am I?
I stare down at my hands. Why aren’t they tied?
How am I free?
Did Blythe come back?
Am I still bad? Is that why she left me like that?
“S-s-sorry.” I rub at the back of my mouth. I try again, weakly. “R-r-red.”
“It’s all right.” A man’s voice, achingly gentle. “I heard your safeword. You’re being so good for me. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Good.
I’m good.
I let myself collapse back onto the bed. Someone’s wrapping a soft blanket around me. Someone else is pressing water and then a chocolate to my mouth.
Slowly, as if I’m rising through thick treacle, I blink back to myself.
I feel exhausted like I’ve already played a full hockey game. My muscles ache.
I’m warm.
When I blink, looking around, I find that I’m surrounded by three faces.
“Shay,” Robyn’s voice wavers with tears, “are you back with us now?”
“I don’t know what happened,” I whisper. My throat feels sore. “Shit, I threw up on your carpet. I’ll clean that.”
“You won’t,” D’Angelo says, firmly. My head is cushioned on his lap, while Robyn and Eden sit on either side of me, holding my hands. D’Angelo’s stroking my hair in a way that makes me bloody melt. “You had a flashback. Do we need to call coach and…?”
“No!” I yell, before adding more quietly, “I’m fine.”
“You sound like me.” Eden’s expression is drawn and closed off.
I glance out of the corner of my eye at the phone that someone has collected and slid onto the bedside table like that can hide what we all know has been exposed to the world.
“You can’t tell that it’s you in the photo,” Robyn points out. “Although, it’s clearly another threat. Your submission is a beautiful thing. There’s no shame in it. But what was going on in that picture…it’s not what we have, right? It’s…”
I think I may hurl again.
I’m numb.
I feel like I’m floating above my body and not in a good way. It’s been years since I’ve felt like this.
I feel violated.
“He doesn’t need to talk about this.” D’Angelo’s voice is tight with fury. “He was safewording in his flashback.”
I swallow bile.
I never wanted to think about any of this again. But I know that I should have told D’Angelo and Robyn already.
Yet haven’t I already needed to admit enough?
Do I also want them to know that I’ve had a Domme before, and she didn’t want me for a real relationship?
That I was the one who was stupid enough to think that anyone could?
How can I not tell them now? I’ve thrown up on Robyn’s carpet.
“Blythe was in her third year at university, when I’d just started my first year,” I say, quietly. “She was wealthy and glamorous. You know what it’s like when you’re away from home for the first time. You go a bit wild for the first time. At least, I did. Blythe had the money to indulge me. I thought that we were dating. I was an idiot like that because I didn’t know that she was a domme. I love confident, smart women. I just thought that she was like you, love.”
I give Robyn a broken smile.
My gaze slides to Eden, who nods reassuringly and tightens his hold on my hand.
He knows how this story ends.
“I was fucking wrong.” I lower my gaze. “I didn’t have many girlfriends before college. Blythe made me feel special because she chose me. When it came to sex though, she was into all this stuff that I had no idea about. After a couple of weeks, she told me that she wanted to be my Domme. I didn’t know anything about that. The things that she talked about mainly turned me on. But she didn’t have a contract or do negotiations like we have. She did give me a safeword but she made me feel like I was weak and pathetic, if I ever used it.”
“Then she was a fake Domme.” D’Angelo’s eyes blaze. “She was simply somebody lying and using that title to get away with being abusive and controlling.”
“I wish I’d known that then.” I struggle to draw in deep breaths, pushing down the panic. This is going to be bloody hard to say. “The night…when that photograph was taken…she was angry with me. I’d turned up for what I thought was a date. I’d bought her some fancy chocolates with money that should have paid for my meals that weekend. I may suck at it but I do try to be a good boyfriend and romantic.”
“You’re an awesome boyfriend.” Robyn caresses down my cheek. Her eyes gleam with tears. “What’s more romantic than stargazing?”
“Or cuddling, while watching horror movies?” D’Angelo valiantly tries.
I give a wet laugh. “Good try.”
Eden’s lips thin. “She didn’t deserve anything.”
“She didn’t want anything.” A tear slips down my cheek. D’Angelo wipes it away with his thumb. I struggle not to flinch. “She laughed when she saw the chocolates. She asked me what the hell I thought this was between us? Didn’t I understand what I was to her? Hadn’t she been clear enough, when she’d told me that she was my Domme? She threw my chocolates in the trash. Then she made me kneel and call myself a stupid bitch for thinking that dommes have romantic relationships with their subs. She made me call myself a toy. Then she punished me and she didn’t stop, even when I…”
I can’t say it.
I’m back there.
I can smell the cloying, jasmine scent of her pillow, as my face is pressed into it. The way that the rope burns my wrists. The coldness of her voice and the invasive feel of her hands, hitting, and hurting, and touching my smarting skin.
I don’t want this.
I don’t fucking want this.
Subs aren’t loved…
Help…
Red, red, red…
“This fake Domme didn’t stop when you called your safeword…?” Robyn guesses.
I shake my head. “She didn’t give me any aftercare either. I didn’t even know that it was called that at the time because she’d never given it to me. I felt like shit for days afterwards. I didn’t know that I was in subdrop. Hockey practice was hell.”
“I wish that you’d felt able to tell us this.” D’Angelo runs his thumb down the back of my neck to the soft hair there, and I shiver. It’s pleasurable and cuts through the fog in my mind, anchoring me fully in the present for the first time. “I understand why you didn’t. We’re only just getting to know each other. I’m older than you and have my own experiences on the scene. We’ll need to discuss this because how can we safely play, if something I do triggers you? Is this why you think that if you screw up, we’ll beat or abandon you? That you’re not worthy of a proper relationship?”
I avoid his eye. “Can you blame me?”
“This isn’t about blame. It’s about understanding. Communication and trust. And just so you know, everything that abusive asshole told you is wrong. It doesn’t matter if you’re a dom, sub, or switch, you deserve love. Kink doesn’t define you, and it’s the genuine relationship underneath that’s going to sustain you.”
Now that I have this amazing relationship with Robyn and D’Angelo, which is nothing like the hollow feelings that I convinced myself I felt for Blythe simply because she was the first person to treat me decently, I know that he’s right.
I fucking love them both, and they love me.
Sometimes, I stumble on the thought. But so far, they keep on proving it to me.
Like they are now.
“We’re going to show you what it feels like to be properly cared for, loved, and protected in a way that only brings you pleasure and pain that takes you to a place of euphoria.” D’Angelo grips me by the chin, forcing me to meet his piercing blue gaze. “How does that sound?”
My dick hardens, and a slow smile spreads across my face. “Bloody brilliant.”
D’Angelo’s hold on both my neck and chin tightens, and fuck, my dick is painfully hard now. “Can I show you what a true dom is like?”
“Who could say no to that?” I can’t stop smiling now. I didn’t think that I could feel happy like this, after feeling such distress after seeing one of the worst moments of my life splashed in the news. But my family are surrounding me, and I trust D’Angelo. It’s a miracle, but I do. “Please.”
Finally, he releases me.
Weirdly, I’m disappointed.
“You’re always safe with us.” Robyn leans down, and her hair sweeps across my cheeks, as she kisses me.
When she draws back, our gazes meet.
“I know, love.”
Her brow furrows.
“In here you do.” She presses her soft lips to my forehead. “But not in here yet.”
She leans down, pushing my shirt aside to kiss over my heart.
I shiver. “It’ll take a bit longer for my body to catch up, love. But it will. You make me feel strong for submitting, rather than weak. You want me and not only as some disposable hookup.”
“I love you. And I want you for romance, washing dishes, and a thousand shared moments, from the playful way that you wake me with kisses to the way that you keep D’Angelo on his toes by annoying him with too loud alternative rock music. Because that’s what building a life together means.”
Robyn kisses me again, long and deep.
When she draws back, she’s glassy eyed, and I’m panting.
Yet Eden pours cold water over me with his next question. “Did you know that Blythe had taken those photos of you?”
Suddenly, I’m shivering for an entirely different reason.
I shake my head. “But then, she did a lot without my consent. I didn’t always realize that at the time but I do now.”
“How are we going to stop her?” Eden’s voice is low.
Robyn shakes her head. “I don’t know. But after this, it’s the top priority. She headlined the photograph, saying that it’s a hockey player. The press will be in a frenzy. You can’t see much because it’s a dark but…someone may still work it out.”
Would D’Angelo mind if I threw up again in his lap? This is his game night suit. He’d probably be pissed, if he had to turn up under the cameras covered in vomit, right?
“Melanie must have paid big bucks for it.” Robyn’s eyes are cold. “You’re a star now, and your ex partners must know that with how much you’re in the news. There’s a risk that all of your ex partners could get greedy and sell their stories.”
Eden huffs. “At least being a loner has some positives. No kiss and tells.”
While I was being wild, Eden was shutting himself up with a good book.
The only person to kiss him is Robyn.
Apart from Blythe, I had fun on most of my hookups. I adore sex. And I loved the freedom of life at university.
Normally, I wouldn’t mind a naked photograph of myself turning up in a newspaper. I’m not ashamed of my body. I also don’t care that I’m shown being tied up, as long as I consented to the bondage and to the photograph being shared.
But that night, when the photograph was taken (and I was both blindfolded and too distressed to even realize), I was being punished.
My safeword was ignored.
It’s a night that I’ve fought hard to forget.
I don’t want to see it and I definitely don’t want anyone else to see me sobbing my fucking heart out because my trust was betrayed.
After my childhood, it’s taken me years of therapy to offer my trust to anyone.
Did Blythe even know what she’d done?
Did she care?
I don’t realize that I’m breathing too quickly again, until Eden’s squeezing my hand.
“Breathe,” Eden orders. “Slowly.”
I take a couple of slow, steady breaths.
“Thanks.” I shoot him a weak smile. “What happens if someone does work out that this is me? I mean, with the Bay Rebels?”
“It’ll affect sponsorship.” Robyn looks thoughtful. “And the brand that we’re building for you. Dad won’t have a problem, especially if he knows the circumstances, but this is exactly the type of noise that the board and management warned us against. They want the focus to be on the drama on the ice and not our personal lives. This isn’t our fault, but they won’t see it that way.”
“Do you want me to call coach and tell him that you have food poisoning? We have the vomit as proof.” D’Angelo arches his brow. “You need to have your head in the game tonight. If you can’t handle that…”
“I can. I will.” I close my eyes.
My career has only just begun. I love playing for the Bay Rebels. The opening to the season has been brilliant.
Yet my own idiot self in the past could fuck it up.
“I said that this isn’t our fault,” Robyn repeats firmly. “I can see your expression, Shay. Both D’Angelo and you have been targeted. You did nothing wrong, then or now. Maybe this isn’t about one person. It’s about the whole team.”
“We can work that angle tomorrow,” Eden agrees. “Is Melanie threatening to reveal a third secret?”
Robyn nods.
“She won’t get to.” D’Angelo taps my cheek, and my eyes snap open. “I’m not allowing anyone else to be hurt like this — or risking your name coming out. So, I’m accepting Melanie’s offer of the live interview. Whatever she intends to do to harm my career, me, or even the Bay Rebels, I intend to face it head on. Rather that, than let her keep taking these shots at us.”
“It’s Thursday now.” Robyn scrambles for her phone. “She wants to do the interview within the next week. It doesn’t give us much time to come up with a plan.”
“Then we better get thinking.” My voice is steady again. My eyes flash. “This journalist has crossed the line so many times that she’s erased it and no longer bloody knows where it is. Who knows what questions she’ll ask? How she’ll try and wreck Jude? All of us? If she thinks that she can manipulate us through fear, then she’s wrong. Our drive to protect each other because of our love is much bloody stronger. I simply need to pull myself together and get through this game, before we find out who’s really pulling the strings.”
I know that I sound confident.
In control.
But inside, I’m still shaking.
Shattered.
I just hope that I can get through the second game of the season.