Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
He loves me. He said so. More than once last night, in French and in English.
It sure sounded incredible in French though.
And now, her heart was full, as if her chest was expanding with all the emotions inside.
He loves me.
She couldn’t stop smiling as she toweled off and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. Honestly, it felt as if she was starting the day for a second time.
Laughing under her breath, she walked downstairs to a quiet house.
Alex and MacKensie hadn’t spent the night since Mac had early vet appointments. Everyone else though had been here for breakfast. Then, after Peter and Hope left for the ferry, Simon and Rona headed out, planning to tour Victoria in Canada.
Everyone had been understanding about her meltdown the night before.
And brilliant, wonderful Hope deduced why Ray asked if they’d attended the university. She and Mac had written out a list of submissive women they knew who were or had been in classes there.
Now if I can only figure out how to ask strangers some rather personal questions.
Stopping in the kitchen, she looked around.
Smiling a little. After everyone had left, she and Drake cleaned the kitchen, and somehow, her clothing got unbuttoned and unzipped.
Stripping her bare, he’d bent her over the back of the couch and taken her.
And he’d used his fingers so very skillfully, she’d come twice before he finished.
There was nothing like having to shower twice before lunch.
But, damn, what a way to start the day. Stop grinning, Ray.
I love him. He loves me.
But where was he?
Noise came from the great room. “Hey, Drake, I need to get back home and to work. I have projects to finish, and Max is going to think I don’t love him anymore.”
Sitting on the couch, he looked over his shoulder at her and smiled.
Dammit, did the man have to be quite so sexy?
“We can’t have Maximillian doubting your love.” Drake pursed his lips. “Bring him with you tonight. He seems quite adaptable, and I’d enjoy having him here.”
Awww. It was amazing he loved cats as much as she did. “Okay, we’ll give it a shot.”
“Good. Now come and see what I have here.”
After walking around the couch, Ray stopped. And stared.
The coffee table was covered with floggers and crops. Apparently, Drake was doing whatever Doms did to keep their impact toys conditioned, and the rich scent of leather hung in the air.
She eyed the array of painful toys. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”
“Is it working?” His grin flashed. “Pick one or two to try this weekend at Chains. We’ll see what you like.”
“Like isn’t the word I’d use.”
His amusement showed way too clearly. “The pain from the paddles—and being spanked—enhanced your arousal, oui?”
“Maaaybe. It still hurt.”
“I think you’ll enjoy being flogged even more. Truly.”
His cell phone rang, and he frowned at his greasy hands. “Hey, Google, answer the call and turn on speaker phone.”
When the ringing stopped, he said, “Good morning, Blaize.”
“Did you manage to sleep in? It’s lunchtime. If you’ve got a minute, I want your take on how the new tax laws might affect downtown businesses. I’m giving an evening seminar on the subject next week.”
Boring. Even worse, the conversation sounded as if it would take a while. Ray scrunched up her face. Getting Drake’s attention, she mimed packing her stuff and pointed to the front door.
Drake put on a sad expression but nodded. He knew she had to work. And once she left, he’d probably be back in his own office doing the same.
A few minutes later, she carried her packed overnight bag downstairs.
Blaize was still talking on speaker phone as Drake worked on a flogger.
She bent and gave Drake a quick, silent kiss.
From the phone came a crashing noise. Dishes breaking. A woman’s high voice blurted out apologies. “Sorry, Master, I’m so sorry. I tripped and—”
“Jesus Christ!” Blaize shouted. “You dismal fuckface slave. All you’re good for is—”
Ray jerked back so fast she lost her balance and fell on her butt…and scrambled backward like an upside-down crab. Pure panic surrounded her. Darkened the room.
Get away, away!
Drake said something, then he was lifting her. Putting her in a chair.
“Ray.” His voice deepened, filled with authority. “Aralia, look at me. At my face.”
She blinked, tried to see through the haze. Dark eyes. A clean, citrusy whiff of aftershave. “Drake. Oh gods, Drake. His voice… He was there.”
Drake held Ray’s arms gently. His little submissive was so white the freckles stood out starkly on her face. Her voice was high, broken.
But she was pulling herself together, coming out of the panic attack. Her courage awed him.
He needed to know what had set her off. “Was there—where?”
“At the BDSM party. At the university. When…when I…they drugged me.”
An icy hand closed around his spine. He kept his tone soft, reassuring. “Whose voice, bébé?”
“His.” She gripped his forearms, tried to shake him. “The man on the phone.”
“You mean Blaize?” He glanced at the couch where the phone lay. When Ray panicked, he’d ended the call.
He carefully considered his next words, trying for clarity. “Are you thinking Blaize was one of the Doms who assaulted you when you were at the university?”
She froze, her fingers cold on his arms. “You don’t believe me.”
“Mon c?ur, it’s not a matter of belief. I simply want to be certain. Blaize has been a member of Chains for years and is a respected Dom.” Over and over in his life, he’d seen too many disasters caused from hasty assumptions and accusations. Like what Faylee had done to Ghost years ago.
He needed all the facts. Although if Blaize had done this…
Fighting down fury, Drake took Ray’s hands. “Last night, you suffered through a traumatic re-telling of what happened back then. It wouldn’t be unusual for the past to be too vivid in your thoughts for a few days. It’s possible any angry man might set you off.”
“You don’t believe me,” she whispered again.
“You’ve spoken to Blaize before, Ray, and not had this reaction.” After a second, he realized she hadn’t even heard what he said. Well, this wasn’t the time for logic.
Right now, he needed to take care of her. “Let me bring you some tea, and we’ll talk more when you’re calmer.”
Before he went into the kitchen, he took the fluffy blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her. The way she shivered broke his heart. “There, bébé. Once you’re warmed up, you’ll feel better.”
The electric kettle took only a few minutes to boil water. He chose a chamomile-peppermint mix, added sugar, and carried the cup around the corner into the great room.
And stopped.
The chair was empty. The blanket lay on the couch.
And her overnight bag and purse were gone.
He doesn’t believe me.
Ray’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as she drove south, through the green tunnels made by overarching trees on each side of the road.
Today the feeling of being in the forest was claustrophobic.
He doesn’t believe me. The knowledge hurt so bad, so deeply, even her bones ached.
She’d sat there, panicking, telling him she’d identified one of her attackers. And he’d been so calm. So logical. And made her feel deranged.
Because Blaize was a valued member of the BDSM community, a Dom. She growled under her breath. A rich white, older male, no less. And Drake’s friend.
“And what AM I then?” Well duh. “You, girl, are merely the submissive he was fucking.”
A drama queen. One obviously prone to lying, probably to get attention, right?
“I hate him,” she whispered, then shouted the words, “I. HATE. HIM.” He’d made her love him. Made her think they had a chance. A real relationship.
Made her think he believed in her. But why should he, really? Pa never had. And more than once, Theodore had accused her of lying—for drama.
The sight of home was such a relief she almost burst into tears.
But…I can’t stay.
She parked, hurried into the house, and almost tripped over the happy furball. “We’re going on a road trip, Max.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t think he’ll come here—not for a lying, over-emotional submissive—but we won’t take the chance. Not until I get my head on straight and settle down.”
Because she couldn’t face him. Which meant she needed to leave her sanctuary for a few days.
She tossed extra changes of clothes into her go-bag.
What with earthquakes and the increasing dryness of Washington’s forests, Faj insisted on having go-bags for humans and cats.
So all the food, equipment, and records in the oversized, pet travel crate were ready to go. The crate went into the cargo area.
The front seat got comfort munchies, drinks, and water. When she buckled the smaller cat carrier in the back seat, Max gave her a pleased mew from inside. He was the first cat she’d met to actually enjoy car travel.
“You’re going to enjoy smelling the ocean, promise.
” She frowned, considering. “La Push or Ocean Shores? Hmm.” Her mouth tightened as the sadness welled up inside.
“He obviously thinks I’m all drama now…so we’ll go to La Push and have drama.
When I can think better, I’ll figure out what to say.
Although he’s probably already written me off. ”
He didn’t believe her.
Wanting to cry, she picked up the phone and blocked him.