Chapter Four
Dominic
Once Myra fell asleep, Natalie stopped and gave her a shot to keep her sedated.
It will be far less stressful for her if she is sleeping.
She remained asleep for the rest of the drive.
We got her set up in a room so Natalie could work on stitching her arms. Matt called a friend of his, Andrew Lincoln, who is a lawyer, to help us decide what to do.
“The fucker needs to be in jail,” I snap.
“She’s sedated, not dead. She can still wake up, so shut your mouth,” Natalie scolds.
“Sorry,” I sigh, looking down at her. Her face is bruised and will only get worse.
The swelling isn’t terrible, but again, it will only get worse.
She also has bruises around her throat. She is still so beautiful.
Her long, brown hair has blood in it now, but she will feel better once she can take a shower, I think.
I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I don’t know how I can have this woman in my home and not want to touch her.
I just want to show her that love doesn’t have to hurt.
He never loved her. I do, though. There is no more denying that.
When she sent me her location, I knew right then and there just how much I loved her.
Hearing her fear of death broke my heart.
The bastard tried to kill her but left her there to die alone. Who the fuck does that?
“I know he tried to kill her, but she has a long history of self-harm and suicide attempts. Those charges will quickly be reduced to assault, and we will have to put her through a trial for absolutely nothing. You and I both know he is not going to go down for attempted murder charges,” Andrew says.
“What kind of fucking justice is that?” Matt asks. “So, what? We go after him for assault charges and get her a restraining order?”
“Yeah, and if he breaks it, you put his ass in jail,” Andrew says. “You report every single time he breaks the protection order. I don’t care if you have proof or not. You get it on record. If he fucks up, he will go to prison for aggravated stalking.”
“The fucking protection order will have the address that she’s living at. He will know exactly where to find her,” I say, trying to be calm.
“You have an alarm system and a gate that you can actually close now and again,” Natalie says. “She will be safe with you.”
“She shouldn’t have to be a fucking prisoner,” I say.
“Then don’t treat her like one. She is fully qualified to be a counselor. When she heals and she is in a better place mentally, give her a job. In the meantime, she will be too busy healing to want to venture off by herself,” Natalie says.
“If she will take it,” I say. “She is so fucking stubborn. She hates feeling like someone’s giving her a handout.”
“Then don’t make it a handout,” Matt says. “She’s going to want to pay you rent, so let her do something else so she feels like she’s contributing.”
“Like what? I’m not making her a goddamn maid,” I frown.
“Let her decide what she wants to do, Dominic. Tell her she is free to help however she sees fit if she feels like she needs to contribute in some way. When she does get a job, let her pay rent.”
“I’m not charging her rent,” I sigh.
“Just put it in savings for her,” Natalie says.
“Best-case scenario, you stop being so fucking stubborn and tell her that you love her. The woman just sat there and told you that she was in love with you. You’ve known her for six years, so you know what she can and cannot handle, and that needs to be a discussion if she is going to live in your home. ”
“I don’t want her to feel like I’m saying it just to appease her,” I say.
“Just go slow,” Natalie says. “Also, you tend to be a bit overprotective. Don’t be up her ass all of the time.”
“I fucking hate feeling like this,” I say.
“In love?” Matt asks with a smile.
“No, asshole. Helpless. I fucking hate feeling helpless,” I say with an attitude.
“Same thing, Dom,” Matt says. “Really, it’s because you care about her. You want to help her so badly, but you know you need to let her find her way.”
“I’m afraid if she gets pulled out of normalcy that she will spiral,” I say.
“She needs to find a way to cope differently than hurting herself,” Matt says. “She could try writing, reading, or a litany of other hobbies.”
“She could get into BDSM,” Natalie says as she works on the sutures.
“No,” I say firmly.
“Why?” Natalie asks. “It’s good enough for you and us, but not her?”
“That’s not what I said,” I sigh. “She cuts herself.”
“Okay? I did too,” Natalie says.
“Dom, you and I both know the statistics for self-harm and ADHD. You know the studies that have been done with BDSM and anxiety, as well as ADHD. She cuts to feel something, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Right, when she cuts, it releases endorphins—much like a runner’s high.
It’s calming for her. Impact play does the same thing, and you know that.
Don’t sit here and act like that is not the entire premise of everything you’ve ever done with any sub you have been with—including Natalie.
We all know that BDSM is way more than just kinky shit.
We started that club as a way to give people a safe place to experiment in a safe environment.
We wanted to create a place where everyone was mental-health conscious,” Matt says.
“I’m not bringing it up to her,” I say. “That is not my place.”
“I’m not saying you should tell her you want to fuck her. You don’t even have to say that you want to be the one to introduce her to it. It could be a stranger for all I care. As long as…” Natalie starts to say, but I stop her.
“No. Some random person is not fucking touching her like that,” I say with more anger in my tone than I expect.
“How am I supposed to know they have any fucking clue what they are doing? They know nothing about her history. Her triggers. What makes her happy? What makes her sad? Nothing. She’s not going to be able to trust just anyone with that.
All that will happen is she will panic, and no one will be able to help her get out of it. ”
“Dominic,” Matt says. “I love you, man; you know that, right?”
“I know,” I say as I run my hands down my face.
I look at Myra; she is sleeping, but it isn’t a peaceful sleep.
She looks distressed, scared even. Her face is tightened, and her breathing is quickened.
I sit on the bed facing her with my back to everyone.
Natalie has stitched this wrist already, and it is perfectly bandaged.
I hold her hand with one hand and gently stroke her swollen and bruised face with my other.
When I cup her cheek and swipe away a tear that falls in her sleep, she sighs as she relaxes.
For whatever reason, this brings tears to my eyes.
I know I bring her comfort because I have spent more than half a decade gaining her trust, but seeing it in real time is magnificent.
Did she mean it when she said she was in love with me?
People say a lot of things when they think they are dying.
She could have died if that fucker had cut both wrists equally as deep.
If she hadn’t sent me her location, she would have died.
The thought of never seeing her again is crushing.
I am torn because I should have let her go as a patient the very first time I fantasized about her.
I should have at least sent her to Matt.
I constantly chose subs based on Myra, but then I didn’t keep them around simply because they weren’t her.
All I want to do is make her happy. Moving her in with me is about to be either the best or worst decision I have ever made, but I am not giving up the chance to finally make her mine.