Branded Sanctuary (12 page)

At her raised brow, he stared down at his hand, still held inside the brace of her slim fingers. Tyler‟s silver wedding band shone softly in the dim lighting. “She‟s not natural to it, Mistress. She‟s messed up right now. She should only deal with one problem at a time.”

“Why are you assuming it‟s a problem? Perhaps it‟s part of the answer.”

“She‟s not part of our world. Even if I introduced her to it, it wouldn‟t be…innate to her. I won‟t make her feel like she‟s failed at something that‟s not a test.” He shook his head. “I‟m a transition for her, and we both know it. I lost sight of that last night, and I didn‟t handle it well this morning. I‟ll call her later, apologize and smooth things over.”

“You want her to open up, make it easier for you to fly to her rescue, but you aren‟t willing to open up your world to her.”

“The soft stuff, the hints of it, give her some relief, but I‟m a painkiller, not the cure.

I‟m a way station.”

“You‟re being a coward.”

His head snapped up. Now he felt the unthinkable toward Marguerite. Anger.

“Damn it, I‟m trying to protect her. I thought that would mean something to you.” Her pale blue gaze frosted. “The truth means something to me. The entire truth.

Have you forgotten that, Brendan? Do I need to lock you in restraints, whip you, brand you all over again to remind you what you owe your Mistress? Don‟t you ever try to shield yourself by using my feelings for Chloe.”

Miserable need spiraled up from his gut, his fingers spasming on his knee. He‟d spent time with this and that Mistress at The Zone since Marguerite‟s marriage, but with all their considerable skills, none of them could pull from him what she could with just the sensual threat.

“Kneel before me, Brendan,” she ordered with quiet firmness. “All the way. I locked the door.”

She didn‟t have to add that. He did it without thought, going to both knees and locking his hands behind his neck, his eyes down. It was a position he‟d assumed enough that, once there, a quiet sense of rightness usually settled over him, being there, obeying a Mistress‟s will. But not today.

She was poking sticks into places that were ready to snarl and snap to keep things out of those burrows.

“Tell me what
you
want, when it comes to Chloe.”

“I want to make her happy. I don‟t want her to be unhappy or frightened. I want to be there for her, as long as she needs…and wants me.”

Rising, she set her hands on his shoulders, nails piercing enough to register pain.

“Brendan, what do
you
want?”

The emotions that rose up hard and fast within him were too difficult, too painful.

He dug his hands into his neck, couldn‟t look at her, even when her hand touched his jaw, a usual command for him to look up. He just couldn‟t.

“I can‟t. Forgive me, Mistress.”

She withdrew, a punishment as harsh as a single tail, but her voice was neutral.

“You‟d be risking a great deal to let Chloe all the way in, wouldn‟t you? You don‟t want to be shut out right as you‟ve gotten your foot in the door. I assume a foot has gotten into a door, euphemistically speaking?”

The dry tone might have made him smile, and the memory of it might have steadied him, if his gut wasn‟t roiling. “Yes.”

“You‟re not only taking the chance it could make things worse for her, but also that she may turn away from what you have to offer. You trusted yourself to Tim, and he betrayed that trust. You lost your parents young, and it creates a paradox. A need to find that sense of home in another‟s heart, while fighting the fear that it‟s a magic trick.

An empty lie once you step into the magician‟s box.”

He clenched his jaw. “I‟m protecting myself. You‟re right. I‟m a coward.” That wasn‟t who he was, and he shouldn‟t be letting his fears or insecurities interfere with caring for her. “If I give her what she needs, and she walks away afterward, when she has her feet under her, serving her well should be enough.”
It should be enough, damn it.

“I have no right to demand more.”

“Brendan.” Now she tipped his head up, forced him to look at her with a hand gripping his hair. She gave him that look that saw so much, could strip him bare, but she took several moments before she spoke, things in her expression he couldn‟t read.

Perhaps didn‟t want to read. “Submissives of your generosity are very rare. In a vanilla relationship, you‟ll give someone like Chloe everything she thinks she could ever need.

Every romantic gesture, every mindblowing sexual experience. And without that remarkable intuition of hers, she‟d never realize, not for an instant, that she hasn‟t even scratched off the top layer of who you are.”

Those animals snarled and burrowed, but she saw them, saw what he wouldn‟t face, even now. He wanted to pull away, but he didn‟t. “But she does have that intuition,” she continued quietly. “It may be damaged, but it‟s still working. She already knows you‟re holding back on her. You really want to help her? You‟re going to have to let her in.”

He tightened his jaw, but couldn‟t deny it. Anymore than he could deny that Chloe was probably right, that it was a bad idea, one they shouldn‟t take further. Marguerite might think he was using her feelings again, but he had to say it. “She doesn‟t know how you and I…”

“What you mean to me.”

It startled him, spoken so intimately. Marguerite‟s gaze was gentle now, and she grazed her knuckles over his cheek. “You‟re afraid of how she‟ll react.”

“Yes. But…” He closed his hand on her wrist, a gentle circle, always amazed by how fragile that arm was. She ate more now with Tyler bullying her, but she‟d always been slim, ascetic. When he met her pale blue gaze, he let her see it, rather than saying it, wanting her to know that this part at least was the truth.

“You‟re afraid of hurting me.” Marguerite‟s fingers curled, her lips pressing together.

“What happens to your friendship when she finds out? You don‟t love easily, Mistress. I won‟t deprive you of even one friend.”

“Even for your own heart?”

“It‟s not a matter of loyalty. If it causes harm to you, then that‟s a message I won‟t question. It‟s not meant to be, and I‟ll let it end here. I can keep being there for her, but not take it to the more intense levels. That‟s what frustrated me too. I wasn‟t thinking ahead until this morning. And now…”

“You‟re already in so deep there‟s no way to pull out without someone getting hurt.

Including you. Oh Brendan. Do you really think that you can keep it from getting inside you?”

He sighed, closing his eyes. “You know, sometimes being around you is like being in front of God, confessing sins.”

Withdrawing, she sat back down, but opened both her hands, extending them toward him. Bemused, he laid his into them, closing his hands gently over the slender palms, respecting the great gift of her touch, of holding her. “Whether you realize it or not, I‟m no longer your confessor, Brendan. I think even I didn‟t realize that until these past few minutes. You‟ve changed. What you need now is more than a Mistress.” At his look of surprise, she inclined her head. “You‟ve let go, surrendered to me, but our shared history kept me from going over ground that wasn‟t mine to plow.

You‟re going to have to tear yourself open to let a
lover
see what‟s there. Where there are no rules or etiquettes. Where you have to risk everything you are in a way you can‟t even see right now. Will that person be Chloe? Or will you hold yourself from her?

Only let her see a part of who you are?”

“I can‟t lie to her,” he admitted after a long moment. “If I thought I could be everything she needed without it, maybe I could keep it secret, but it feels wrong. What she needs is a hundred and twenty percent of myself, not bits and pieces like a puzzle with parts missing.”

“And by doing that, she‟ll have the chance to handle each piece, feel the edges and curves, and decide if she fits in the same picture. Give her that chance, Brendan. Don‟t treat her like glass.”

Swallowing, he let his gaze course over the stage. The grail prop sat on a dais.

During the performance, it would be brilliantly lit among all that darkness. He‟d always liked the idea of being one of the knights seeking that grail. Damn it, if he didn‟t know anything else, he knew Chloe needed him right now. And if what she needed was for him to be braver than he‟d been before, then so be it. He‟d go on the quest, even knowing the grail would always elude him, because that wasn‟t the point.

He lifted his burning gaze to Marguerite, his chest so constricted he could barely get the words out. “I thought about asking you to invite her to your annual carnival.” There. He‟d said the ridiculous. He lifted a shoulder. “I know she knows something of your world outside the tea room. Will you invite her?”

While he couldn‟t tell for sure from her expression, he was pretty sure she had some reservations about the idea. But he was too wound up to retract it or suggest anything different. He expected her to deny him, tell him why she would refuse, but at length, she spoke. “Come back to Tea Leaves this evening and issue her the invitation, on my behalf.”

He let out a breath that still managed to claw at his insides. He‟d committed himself. The chaotic storm that had been brewing in his mind and gut most the day died back at last, though it felt as if he‟d gone through a fully draining, three hour dungeon session, where he wasn‟t sure what he‟d done or who he was now.

As Marguerite rose, obviously preparing to leave, he knew he needed to say one more thing. Something less difficult to say, but not less difficult to accept. “Mistress, there‟s more that happened that day. At the tea room. With your…when she was attacked. She won‟t say what, but it‟s there.”

Her lips tightened. “I know. Her emotions have dammed up. We can‟t seem to break things loose in her. She‟s protecting us so hard, she‟s formed a barricade. But you…she‟s willing to strike out, reach out.” Her gaze lingered on his face and he realized one of Chloe‟s flailing hands must have caught him well enough to leave a bruise. “If she has a different bridge to cross, such as learning more about you and what you can offer her, it may break things up further. She won‟t be so focused on keeping everything in.”

An ironic smile touched her lips, this lovely, difficult woman who was the closest thing to a family he had. The tenderness behind that smile, the trace of sadness in her gaze as she looked down at him, as if seeing a path she wished she could keep him from taking, only underscored that she loved him as he loved her. Fiercely and unconditionally. It steadied him, despite the fact her parting words created more than a little trepidation.

“I know you don‟t want to hurt her, Brendan, but I want you to remember something. Sometimes loving someone means not letting them hide from themselves. It means they need to experience pain to heal. Don‟t underestimate your own knowledge of that,” she said softly. “Because the only one who understands that better than a Mistress is her slave.”

“Gen, I‟m about to head out,” Chloe called out as she collected her tote bag from the back. She‟d stuffed a variety of things in there yesterday, when distracted by Brendan‟s behavior. Now she noted a black tuft of hair, a slip of silk bow, and remembered she‟d included Brendan‟s stuffed dog. Pulling it halfway out, her fingers passed over the playful face. Was it something pitiful, or clean desire, that made this coil of longing tighten in her belly, made her wish she hadn‟t been so hateful? She‟d thought about calling his cell and leaving him a message, but what would she have said? Was she falling in love or in need?

No, she‟d been right. She didn‟t need to be involved with anyone right now. But when would it get better? The first couple months after her body had fully healed, she‟d told herself anyone would need time to recover emotionally from something like that, but since then, it had only gotten worse. The more she tried to push it away, the larger it got, like the monster in her closet was one of those add-water sponge things that only grew bigger with every tear.

Gen poked her head into their coat room. “You may want to hold off a minute. You have a visitor. He just pulled up.”

Wow. The tide of despair was simply swept away by a sudden, dizzying euphoria.

She wondered if she was becoming manic, or bi-polar, or whatever the mental-illness-of-the-month was. All day long, she‟d vacillated like this, between regret and longing, brief spurts of wretched rationality and unreasoning need. With those few words, all of it was gone. Brendan was waiting for her out front.

At Gen‟s easy smile, Chloe couldn‟t help but answer with a curve of her lips.

“Guess I didn‟t completely scare him off.”

“You assume it‟s all about you.” Gen sniffed. “Maybe I flashed my tits at him through the front window this morning before he drove off. Or Mrs. McGovern did. She was here the earliest. You know she got new breasts for her sixtieth birthday and she‟s showing them to everyone. Even Marguerite. You should have seen her face.”

“Marguerite‟s or Mrs. McGovern‟s?”

“Marguerite‟s, of course. Not even a facial muscle twitched. She just nodded, polite as you please, said they were lovely and asked if she wanted milk in her tea.”

“Well, I‟d believe Mrs. McGovern flashing him long before I‟d believe it of you.

Stodgy old thing.” She sobered a bit. “I was pretty hideous this morning.”

“Well, go say you‟re sorry. The only thing a man finds more irresistible than a woman who‟s mean to him is one willing to make it up to him. If he‟s back, I‟d say he‟s in a forgiving mood. He obviously realizes how wonderful you are.” Gen gave the tote bag a hitch onto Chloe‟s shoulder, another quick smile crossing her face at the sight of the puppy. “Go enjoy every inch of that beautiful man. You owe it to the rest of us who‟re going home to frozen food and old movies.”