Chapter 31 #2
“But you shift during scenes,” Emmy said. “The Red Riding Hood feeding frenzy. On stage.”
“Oh, that’s safe because Zander is close and can keep him leashed.
” Spence’s thumb traced circles on the back of her hand.
“The masochism, though, who knows who I’d be if I hadn’t been trained to enjoy pain?
To associate pain with sexual release? But that was my introduction to sex, and it’s stuck.
I need pain to fully enjoy sex, and that’s okay. ”
Spence took a breath. “Zander knows what I need, and he’s a sadist, so it works.
” He smiled. “He treats me as his lover outside of sex scenes, rather than his submissive. I belong to him in all ways, and at first, I’d have preferred being treated as a slave, but he forced me to learn how to make decisions, how to manage other people, and I love him for it. ”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. In my head, I’m his submissive, but one of his rules is that I express myself, that I tell him my thoughts even when they differ from his.
My opinions are valuable to him, whether they’re in line with his or not, and I’m required to tell him what I think, when I know it’s information that might help him make a decision, or just when he needs to know how I feel. ”
“Did you have a choice?”
“I did, and for a while, I considered whether I wanted to join the Pack, back when Randall was Alpha, but then I couldn’t have belonged to Zander, so it was never a serious option.”
Emmy was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. “Do you ever regret it? Choosing to belong to Zander?”
“Never.” The answer came without hesitation.
“He gave me freedom in every way that matters. I choose to serve him. I choose to submit. I choose to let him feed from me, to let him hurt me in ways that make me fly.” Spence’s voice softened.
“He sees me, Emmy. Not just the slave I was, or the broken thing my former Master tried to make me. He sees me — the person I am, the person I’m becoming — and he loves all of me. ”
“I see that,” Emmy whispered. “The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s…” She trailed off, searching for words.
“Safe,” Spence finished for her. “It’s safe to be vulnerable with him, because I know he’ll never abuse that trust. The pain he gives me is a gift, not a weapon, and that makes all the difference.”
On screen, Buffy was battling vampires in a cemetery, but neither of them was watching. Emmy’s fingers were still tangled with his, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Thank you,” she said. “For trusting me with that.”
“You’re…” Spence wasn’t sure how to explain it, but he had to try. “I’m not supposed to have favorites, but you’re special. I feel like you could become … I don’t know. I’m scared to try to name it, but I feel close to you.”
Emmy’s mouth curved into a small smile. “Yeah. I feel it too.”
Zander’s voice came into his head, not in the soft caress he often felt, but a quick check-in. Brusque.
We found them.
Spence sat up straighter, his grip on Emmy’s hand tightening instinctively. Them? Who?
Later. I’m in the middle of it, but I wanted to let you and Emmy know we can keep her safe now.
The connection closed abruptly, but Spence didn’t reopen it. Zander was clearly busy, and Spence appreciated the quick update.
“Zander says they found the perpetrators. Plural, apparently, which is probably why they couldn’t narrow any one person who had contact with everyone who was affected. No hints about who it was, just assurance the problem is being handled.”
Her eyes went wide, and then she blurted out, “The Versailles Carnival. It can still happen.”
Of all the things Spence expected her to say, that wasn’t it. He blinked. “That’s your first thought?”
“The season doesn’t have to end early. Everyone can stay safe, and I’m really looking forward to dressing up for it.” Her eyes were bright now, excited despite her exhaustion. “I’m going to be well enough for it, right? It’s still ten days away?”
Spence couldn’t help but smile. “If you aren’t, we’ll dress you up and put you on a throne or something, so you can still participate.”
“Let’s try some chicken broth,” Emmy said. “I need to build my strength up. Right?”
She managed five spoonfuls, and Spence stopped her, worried she’d overdo it and make herself puke again.
She was asleep again within minutes, but Spence stayed beside her, one hand on her hip, monitoring her fever and heartbeat while his mind turned over what Zander might do to whoever had hurt his people.
Would he pull Kendra in to do it, or would he do it himself?
The idiots had wanted to sow terror and chaos, but they’d given Zander a reason to make an example that would be remembered for centuries.
And Spence didn’t feel even a tiny bit sorry for them.
On screen, Buffy was trying to pretend she was normal by being a cheerleader, and it really didn’t work for her.
Trying to be someone you aren’t isn’t productive, and Spence was grateful he’d stopped trying years ago.
Being exactly who he is, a submissive masochist, had given him everything that mattered.
He looked at Emmy, sleeping fitfully, and realized how important it was to her for Zander to see her as the woman she’d become, not the child she’d been. And Zander … well, Zander needed to stop running from whatever was going through his head when it came to her.