Chapter 24 #4
Lynn laughed and told Ray, “I do envy you, how open you are with what you say. I’m sure it gets you into trouble, but some of us are so repressed we’ve forgotten how to share our emotions and thoughts. Don’t let the world muzzle you.”
Ray blinked, seeing Mac and Hope nod agreement—and the men as well.
“Oui,” Drake squeezed her shoulder. “I love you just the way you are.”
With a happy sigh, Ray sipped her drink. After a few minutes of conversation, she noticed Hope was staring and lifting her eyebrows in the way that meant Ray’d missed something.
Oh! She almost forgotten the present for Drake. For Chains.
The pieces she’d made for the Elfame room were wonderful, of course, but were to finish what Faj had started. In honor of him.
But this one… Drake hadn’t asked for it, but the place behind the bar where the SAFE, SANE, & CONSENSUAL painting had been needed to be filled. She’d been working on this project since last week.
Would he like it? She squirmed. If he didn’t, he’d be kind, of course he would, but she’d see it in his eyes. And it would hurt. A lot.
“Ma douce, what has you worried?”
“I…um.” Okay, it was time. Her gaze shot to Hope, who motioned with her chin and looked down at the table. Right, under the table.
Ray bent and pulled out the long, flat box covered in wrapping paper. “I made something. For you. For the club. I think it’ll…um, but you don’t have to, and if it’s not right, you can…”
He touched her cheek, his gaze soft. “I would cherish anything you make for me, even if you weren’t a superb artist. But you are. May I open this here?”
Unable to speak after what he’d said, she pushed the box into his lap.
Across the table, Hope was already bouncing. “Open, open, let’s see it.”
Drake carefully ripped off the paper and went motionless as he looked at what was inside. Then at the empty space behind the bar. “C’est parfait.”
“Show us, oh Master of the club,” Alex said.
Smiling, Drake removed the piece from the box.
The oval-shaped carved wood gleamed under the lights. The letters she’d worked on so carefully were easy to read. Then, to her shock, he rose to his feet. He waved at the DJ, catching his attention, and made a cutting motion across his throat.
The music stopped.
“Your attention, please.” Conversations stopped. Everyone turned to watch Drake.
His deep voice was exactly loud enough to fill the room.
“My friends. You have seen the empty space on the wall behind the bar. And you know the foundation of BDSM—and the central tenet of Chains—is consent. Many of you are here after suffering from your trust being broken. You have found this a safe space because we honor consent, oui?”
Everyone yelled their answers, from “yes” to “aye” to “oui.”
“Ray here has also suffered and fought back from a dark place. Being as talented as our beloved George, she has created something to fill the space and to remind us all of the basis of our practice. Consent.”
He held up the carved wood, turning in a circle so all could see. The arc of CONSENT across the top. The word IS in the center with EVERYTHING curving up from the bottom.
“Consent is everything. A perfect reminder for what we believe and how we practice.” Drake bent and kissed her. “Thank you, mon amour.”
Around the room, people were applauding, cheering. And some—some of them had tears in their eyes as they nodded and smiled at her. One mouthed, “Yes. Thank you.”
Smiling, Drake handed the piece to a dungeon monitor who immediately hung it in the empty space. The screw had already been there and since she’d done her measurements, it fit perfectly.
She beamed. It looked perfect.
“You could have given me nothing finer,” he murmured in her ear. Pulling her chair closer, he tucked her against his side.
A few minutes later, Ray heard a buzzing sound, and Drake pulled out his cell phone. He was one of the few allowed a phone in the club.
Reading the message, Master Drake chuckled—then handed her the phone.
It was from Max Drago. A bittersweet feeling welled up, the memory of being a rescued homeless teenager and how much she’d wished she had someone like Max in her life someday.
Then she smiled. Look, Max, I found him.
She looked down at the text he wrote.
Got your email about Ray. WTF! But I’m glad you all dealt with the bastards—and I’m glad you’re there for her. You’re one of the finest men and Doms I know.
However.
If you don’t treat her well, you’ll be dealing with me.
Her mouth dropped open. “He threatened you?”
“You mean a lot to him, bébé. Of course he did.”
There was the burble of a new message, and the text appeared while she was still holding the phone.
I can’t believe Ray got a cat that pisses all over her house and named it after me!!!
What? Her cat didn’t pee anywhere except in the litter box. Breaking into laughter, she showed Drake the text. “You lied to Max the cop about Max the cat? Shame on you.”
When his grin flashed, she started laughing again.
Texting back:
This is Ray. Drake lied. My Max is charming and supportive and wonderful. Just like you.
His reply: “Whew.”
And then he added:
Drake’s proud of how brave you were last weekend—and so am I. You’ve come a long way, little burglar.
And I knew you’d find your someone. Never had a doubt.
Years ago, he’d said he knew that—because she was very lovable.
A sob crawled up her throat. Dammit, I already bawled my head off in the parking lot. Again?
Making a comforting sound low in his throat, Drake pulled her against his shoulder and let her cry.
When she lifted her head, she saw all the concerned faces around the table. And she smiled at them.
Not homeless. Not unloved. I have amazing friends.
And Drake.
Turning, she captured his face between her hands. “I love you so very much. So much!” Her words rang out, free and loud.
So loud, actually, that everyone heard.
As raucous cheers and whistles filled the room, Drake’s smile lit his stern face. “Je t’aime, mon c?ur.” He put his hand behind her head and kissed her, long and slow.
Her heart was singing. Here…here is my home.