Chapter 8 #2
All I understood was that Jayne needed to utterly humiliate me before she’d allow me to attend that party. She needed me broken, probably so rich old men could more easily have their way with me.
When she stopped speaking, I slid my arm from her grasp and bolted. My pace was quick. I was across the room and out the door in a matter of seconds.
The hallway was quiet, not even a half-naked servant in sight. I had no idea where the bathroom was, my intended destination for a momentary escape.
A part of me wanted to leave the church entirely, but I didn’t want Jayne to win. Or was staying and doing exactly what she wanted letting her win?
Fuck, I didn’t know. Either way, I lost, it seemed.
I stopped pacing and sank to the floor, ass hitting the ornate carpet.
“Nova.” Wes slowly approached me, his eyes soft.
I was too high on adrenaline to care enough to shoo him away.
He sat across from me on the floor in his expensive dress pants. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Is that an order?” I snapped.
Wes blinked once, his lips slowly curving. He looked up at the ceiling, as if praying for strength. “You are so…”
“What? Please, tell me what I am,” I whispered. I didn’t even know what I was anymore, or what I was even saying, only that I sounded desperate.
His voice was low, the tortured look in his eyes failing to match his smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I glowered. “You’re a Dom,” I said, an accusation.
He nodded slowly, his smile wavering. “I was a Dom, but I don’t do that anymore. I can top, but I will never dom anyone ever again.”
His admission should’ve been damning. The moment he told me what he was, I should’ve seen the faces of every man in my hometown. My father, my older brother, Pastor Carter. I shuddered, but I didn’t move.
It didn’t make sense; when I looked at Wes, I couldn’t see anyone else at all.
I had to put an end to this. I couldn’t let him get any closer. And yet, I found myself asking, “Why not?”
His gaze shifted away from me. He shook his head. Heaviness thickened the air between us, and I could tell he was drifting away from me. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to bring him back.
“What—what’s the difference? Between topping and domming?” I asked, letting him escape my previous question.
His eyes returned to mine, and I released a breath. “In the kink world, topping means being the giver of an experience, and bottoming is being the receiver. There is no power exchange. Paddling someone is topping. Telling someone how to dress, how to speak, how to behave—that’s domming.”
“Did you paddle her?” I asked.
Wes’s eyes flashed. “When would I have had time to do that, Nova? I’ve been within arm’s reach of you the entire night.”
The irritation in his voice felt like a slap. It was like he was implying I’d kept him close against his will. All I’d ever done was tell him to leave me alone.
I nearly asked him if he’d wanted to paddle her, but I was afraid of his answer. I didn’t know him well enough to be jealous, and yet... I was jealous. I was envious of everyone in that room—envious of their openness, their lack of shame. How could they all act like it was so easy?
“Are you a sub, Nova?” The words left Wes’s mouth like a curse. He glared at my lips.
My skin was hot, my mind cloudy as the adrenaline crashed. “I’m nothing.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. “I’m only… me.”
“You are not nothing,” Wes said, his voice as authoritative as Kingston’s when he told the nuns to kneel. “Look at me.”
I opened my eyes and turned my gaze back toward him.
“Do you want to give a sermon next week?” he asked.
My lower lip trembled. Oh, shit. No, no, no. Tears formed before I could stop them.
I shook my head.
“Then don’t,” he said. “You don’t have to play their games.”
His features softened when I wiped at my eyes.
“I know I don’t.” I glared at the floor.
“I know,” I said louder this time. “But I will. My friend will be at that party, and I need to make sure she’s okay, even if she doesn’t deserve it.
Maybe that makes me stupid or reckless or an unhealed people-pleaser, but I guess that’s me.
That’s my damnable ulterior motive. I need to do what Jayne knows terrifies me in order to get an invite.
Sorry, I mean, in order to ascend.” I rolled my eyes.
“But it doesn’t even matter, because I physically can’t.
I wish I could. I’ve always wanted to get over this fear.
It’s going to keep me from doing things in the future that I actually do want to do.
But yeah, shaky voice, racing heart, fight or flight.
You get the picture.” I cringed at how much information I’d just vomited.
When he reached a thumb toward my face, I held my breath. He softly scooped a tear from my cheek, staring at it for a moment before quickly retracting his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.
“It’s—it’s okay.”
“I can help you,” he said with a clenched jaw, like he wanted to stop himself but couldn’t. “But only if you’re sure my method is something you’re comfortable with.”
“It’s not sexual…”
“No,” he said, as if offended, which in turn made me feel offended.
I centered myself with a shaky breath. He scrambled my brain more than Jayne.
“And it will eliminate all physical symptoms of panic so I can speak freely?”
Wes sighed. “Yep.”
Realization struck—Jayne’s wink, Archer’s interest in what Wes had said in the red room, Wes’s assuredness he could cure me of my greatest fear.
“Oh my God.” I stood, woozy as I wobbled slightly.
Wes rose to his feet and quickly steadied me, our faces mere inches apart. His hand was warm, firm, and calloused, and he smelled like woodsy cologne and leather. Our chests rose and fell. Neither of us moved any closer.
“You want to hypnotize me.”