Make Me (27 page)

“Promise?”

“I promise. I’m fine.”

He kisses the top of my head. “Then let me put lotion on you.”

She rubs her forearm through the material of her robe. “Darko, I think I maybe need a little time. Some distance between us to figure things out.”

My lungs slam shut. Another breath is an impossibility.

“Why?” Immediately, I take a step away from her to honor her wishes.

“It’s a lot to take in, you know? I need to breathe. Just a couple days.”

Her rejection stings, but I have no choice. “You’re sure?”

She nods. “It’s easier this way.”

Confusion and regret rub against each other, whirring through my thoughts. “On the nightstand are lotions to soothe your skin.”

“Thank you.”

“Be gentle with yourself, the skin will feel better in a couple hours, but if you have a shower, pat dry instead of rubbing and use cool water, not cold or hot. And be sure to drink extra water tonight.”

Her smile is sad. “I will. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Darko.”

“You are welcome.” It’s come to this? Choking on polite words to distance ourselves when just days ago I was buried inside her, nothing existing in my world except for us, for Sloane.

I knew this happiness could not last. I just never thought she would reject me. Why is she pushing me away?

The first step away from her is the hardest. I cannot force her to let me take care of her, and if she wants me to leave I must honor that, no matter how deeply I regret it. Sloane seemed fine until she came back. Whatever caused this change in her mood, I need to give her space.

What if this is not a need for space but a need to submit to someone else? A decision isn’t a true choice unless all the options are fairly laid out. This beautiful woman needs to learn and choose for herself what’s best. If this is her way of distancing herself from me, I have to honor her choice.

I had planned something for her. “Hold on, there’s an address I need to give you.”

“Why?”

I smile at her. “It’s a surprise.”

“Darko.” Her voice trails off, but it’s important, not just another reward or dinner. I glance around the apartment for a piece of paper to write it on. I could text it to her, but that would take longer, and I need to leave before my chest caves in. Perhaps after tomorrow, after she goes to the address, she’ll call. She will see how much I care for her.

“Don’t!”

I grab a yellow legal pad and flip to the first free space at the bottom of a page, my hands slowing down as the tension in her voice registers. My picture taped to the top of the page.

I smile. “Wasn’t this the night of the mixer?”

“Don’t read it.”

“Why did you cut yourself out of it? You looked gorgeous that night.” My name higher up on the page catches my eye. “Is this like a diary?” I grin, teasing her.

“Don’t read it. Please.” Her voice is almost as scared as it was when Kristian “cut” her leg.

“If it’s that important to you, of course I won’t read it.” I scrawl the address on the paper.

My peripherals disobey my intentions not to read.

Darko found his way inside my fantasies

It’s about me. I should stop reading.

and exploited them one by one, rendering me helpless,
nothing more than his sexual slave
...It was heady, and terrifying how easily he changed me...

My smile dies.

this man tore my resistance and identity apart like it was tissue paper. I shudder to think of the depravities he’d be capable of teasing out of an at-risk woman, someone who was vulnerable already.

Slow breaths do not help with the stabbing through my chest.

I flip back to the top page and see a title.
Sex, Lies, And Ziptape. The Dangerous World Of Kink.

“This”—I pause as bile tickles my throat—“This is how you see me?”

“No. God, no. Darko, please.” She tries to remove the pad from my hands, to block my view, but I can’t unsee the words she wrote, and I hold fast to the pages, reading more of the words even though they are breaking me.

“Focus on Darko?” Why would she focus on me? For what? I flip back a page and see. “If this isn’t a diary, then what is it? A story? Is this all I am to you? An article?”

Her eyes drown in tears as my heart drowns in betrayal.

“No, it wasn’t about you. It was about kink.”

My abs are tight with tension and the screams tearing at my soul to break free. I skim her notes once more, feeling worse with every word I read. “So you weren’t planning on making kink seem evil?”

Her hands fidget with her sleeves. “It started like that, yes, but—”

“Why? Why did you really come to me to learn how to submit? The truth.”

She lowers her head at the tone in my voice. “I needed to protect my sister. I knew if she didn’t get away from the club, then she might not make it. You have no idea the struggles she’s had.” Her eyes are sincere, but my chest has solidified into a wooden block.

I keep my voice quiet to stop from screaming or vomiting from the betrayal filling my insides. “I knew that night you were there for Tessa. But this? This tells you to focus on me. These are your notes right?” Have I ever felt such pain in my life? My chest is caving in and I struggle to breathe. “I know you’re a journalist, but after all we’ve been through you would be able to do this? Skip to the part where you decided to betray me and try to ruin my life.”

She looks at the floor. “I needed to show Tessa I knew what I was talking about when I said kink was dangerous and harmful. I thought having experience would mean I could show her.”

“That was why you wanted me to sign you up for The Submission Games at first.”

“Yes.”

“So you were just using me to prove a point to Tessa.”

“Yes.” Her voice cracks, tears finally spilling down her cheeks, and goddamn me, I still want to wipe them away and kiss her, but she’s suddenly a stranger.

“How could you? Non-disclosure agreement aside, Sloane, how could you do this to me? You’re writing an exposé about how evil and exploitative I am?”

“It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t going to use those notes. My editor told me—”

“Fuck your editor! Fuck this story, Sloane, how could you write something like this about me?”

“I wasn’t going to use that, I swear.”

“And everything between us was a lie.”

“No, Darko.” She sniffles and grabs my arms. “Everything between us was real. I’ve never even been as honest with myself as I was, as I am, with you. You’re the one who broke down those walls and showed me how to be me.”

“And yet your words paint a very different story of the truth that occurred between us.” The word ‘truth’ sticks in my throat, bitter and foreign in this context.

“No, that was before, for the article I was writing.”

“
Was
writing?”

Sloane looks at me incredulously. “I can’t write that now. I never felt like you were a villain, but my editor wanted me to add an angle and create a bad guy. I jotted that one day and knew I couldn’t use it. I’d never have made you look bad.”

“So you’ve quit your job?” Thank God, it’s all a misunderstanding, and...

She inhales and the hesitation in her eyes shreds my heart.

I nod, hope thoroughly trampled. “You’re still going to write the article.”

“I’m not targeting you, I swear. I couldn’t bear to hurt you.”

I shake her hands from my arms. “But Robyn, Thomas, Reiley, Milena, the others I respect, know, love in different capacities, are fair game? And yet you are still trying to take me down. Paint those of us at The Underground as abusive monsters.”

“No. I know the truth now.”

I toss the paper to the counter. “You said I taught you to be yourself, but I don’t even know you.”

“You know me better than anyone!”

Frustration batters me from head to toe. I want to punch a hole through the wall and get away from her. I want to wrap us up in ten minutes ago and never fucking leave her bedroom in the first place and pretend this never happened, but ignorance isn’t bliss; it’s better I know the ugly truth. “Are you really this hurtful of a person and I never noticed? Would you do that to people, tear lives apart for a story you don’t even believe in? My Sloane is brave and fights for truth, for right. She wouldn’t lie to me or hurt me. She would honor the contract she signed.”

“This is about more than an NDA.”

“I thought
we
were about more than a Non-Disclosure Agreement.” I worked so hard to master my emotions, to not let anyone in and I let her behind every wall I have and she was carrying a lit fuse the whole time. “Didn’t you feel guilty about this at all, lying to my face about your intentions? Listening to me opening up to you, making love with me knowing you were planning on exposing the club that saved my life?”

Fresh tears pour down her cheeks, but to her credit and damnation, she doesn’t defend her actions.

“I knew you were an incredible journalist. From the start, I knew you
could
write an article about me, about the club, but I thought you were safe. I gave you the benefit of the doubt as Tessa’s sister. You said you’d never hurt her—well, what do you think the article would do? And then we began seeing each other, got closer, and it never occurred to me that I’d need to stay safe from you myself.”

“I needed to keep her safe.” Her voice trembles and she can’t meet my eyes.

“If Tessa was in danger, I’d have helped her myself!” The words come out louder than I meant, carved sharp by my raw emotions. “Don’t you get that? You were the one needing help, not Tessa. I love how much you care about your twin; all along that has been something I admire about you, for our shared value of family was something that drew me to you.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Signing the NDA was standard procedure—I never thought I’d have to remind you of that. But did I think you could do something this underhanded and hurtful to me? Never.” I toss the pad of paper to the counter and cross my arms. Just an hour ago feelings for Sloane were filling the room, my life, and my heart. Only last night I was making love to the only woman I’ve ever seen a future with.

And yet, she wants to bring my life down around me.

“I don’t know who you are.” I point at the paper on her counter. “The address I wanted you to have? Go there tomorrow morning at eleven. Your sister will be waiting for you.”

She scrubs her tears away with impatient hands. “But how? She hasn’t taken my calls in weeks.”

“I called her to see about dinner with us. She didn’t go into details but said she was finished with you. I convinced her you deserved a chance to make things right between you.”

“You did that for me?”

“I said you were a good person who understood now. I am a fool. Consider it a parting gift. Do not call me again.” The words are necessary, but bring fresh pain to my wounds.

Her face crumples.

I leave without another word and drive straight to The Underground to be with the other depraved freaks like myself.

This is why I haven’t opened up to anyone. The loss of Sloane threatens to unravel me. It was always easier to keep my lovers at a close but safe distance. Sloane was the exception and look at us now. We were never going to be forever, but the only one who didn’t know that was me.

Wrapping my SUV around a tree would be less painful.

The sheets are cold, another reminder of the warmth I’m without, and it’s all my fault. I didn’t know I was capable of hurting anyone more than I’d hurt Tessa, but the shock and pain in Darko’s eyes is seared into my soul.

Good intentions pave the road to hell. I’m there now and it’s a lonely place. It is not better to have loved and lost. Not when you know exactly how perfect the person you lost is.

The man I crushed is the most beautiful, considerate, compassionate, generous person I’ve ever met.

I love Darko Aralica so much I can’t breathe.

Air seeps through my mouth and into my lungs despite my apathy for the future. How can there be a future if he’s not in it?

My throat aches from screaming into my pillow, but my tears still flow freely. My eyes burn and so do my regrets. If only...I’m haunted by what-if’s. Things I should have said, things I should have done as soon as I realized he was more to me than an angle.

What they don’t tell you, or what I never learned, is how fucking hard you can ache for someone and still stay conscious. If I’d explained it better or told him sooner, maybe things would be different. But I’d rather go through the scene with Kristian again, hell, I’d actually take a blowtorch to the leg if it would make Darko listen to me and give me the chance to explain. A blowtorch would hurt less.

I’d do anything for Darko.

And just like that, I know what to do.

Purpose works itself into the fear, soothing the panic away, propelling me from bed. Three hours later, I’ve showered in cool water like he told me to, and written the article. I’m not going to lie down and die from the pain of losing Darko—not until I’ve done everything in my power to explain myself and to get him back. If I exhaust every possibility and he still can’t forgive me, then so be it. But I won’t give up on this perfect man until I know it’s over.

Tomorrow, I’ll meet with Tessa and make things right.

Tomorrow, I’ll do my damndest to win Darko back.

Tessa’s bangs hang in her eyes; my fingers itch to brush them away, but I stand frozen just inside the door of the office in a building downtown. Surrounded by the glass, and grey decor, she stands out in her cranberry-colored silk dress like a dream come true, safe, strong, bright. Perched on the edge of a white couch, her posture is so rigid it must be painful, but she still looks small.

I hurt Darko and hurt Tessa, and I am going to make it better. I have to.

I plunge in. “I’m so sorry for the things I said the last time we talked.”

Her look of disbelief is so comical, it’s better than any words she could have said. Maybe my stubborn pride has been an issue in the past. I should have apologized properly long ago.

She sighs. “Sloane, you were being honest. Everyone is entitled to their feelings.” Her formal tone twists the knife.

“No! I was being an asshole. A judgmental asshole who had no idea what she was talking about before she opened her big judgmental asshole mouth. Those aren’t my feelings anymore.” I sit across from her on another couch, wanting to hug her but knowing I haven’t earned back that right yet. “I’m so sorry for making you feel like crap about who you are. You opened up to me about something so private and important and I crapped all over it.”

“Yes, you did. And, Christ, that hurt.”

Molten shame scorches my entire body. I nod and take it.

Her mouth quirks to the side. “But you’re here, which means something.”

My heart swoops in my chest like a bird finding an updraft. “It does?”

“Of course.” The chill in her eyes thaws further. “You were willing to put yourself through The Games just for me?”

I nod. “I didn’t; Darko wouldn’t let me. But I learned about submission. I had no choice but to train with him.”

“You did. And through that experience you now know me better than you have in years. Maybe ever.”

“I wish you hadn’t had to hide this part of yourself from me.” I wish I hadn’t been such a bitch about it. “Because now I get it.” And suddenly it’s hard to look her in the eyes, but I force myself not to look away. “Submission isn’t something you do, something I do. It’s deeper than that. I understand now that it’s something we are. But I need to know that your motivations for joining this lifestyle aren’t about self-harming.”

She sighs. “I haven’t even thought of that in years.”

“Tessa—”

“Sloanie, you’ve seen me as broken for ages, but
this
is who I am.” She grabs a magazine filled with men and women in various BDSM situations from the coffee table between us. Did they make that in-house, or are there such books out there? Is this office a professional side to the club? I only get a peek at the graphic scenes as she flips past until stopping on a picture of an attractive brunette in a bra and panties, kneeling and looking up at the camera while a man yanks her hair back. Her expression is shy but pleased.

Tessa taps the page. “You’re right about me being into kink but not my motivation or what I am. I’m not what you think I am. I never look at pics like this and think, ‘man I want my hair pulled like that; I want to be punished.’ I think, ‘oh my God, I want to pull her hair, slap her ass, and pinch her nipples until she squeaks.’”

Tessa and I have always been close, able to talk about anything, but we’ve never gone this in-depth before. There was never a need. But I thought I knew her. No time like the present. “So, you’re a lesbian? Because no big deal if you are. But that has nothing to do with BDSM as a way of self-harming.”

She huffs as if I’m being purposely obstinate. “Of course it doesn’t. I’m not self-harming. I don’t like pain, and I guess you could say I’m bisexual. That’s not even the point. It’s the situation that gets me off, not the fact she’s a woman. It could be a man on his knees and I’d feel just as turned on. You and I are both into kink, but that’s where the similarities end.”

Oh.
Oh.

I’m the only submissive in the family. “You’re not a submissive?”

She laughs. “No fucking way. No offense.”

When she said she was into BDSM, I just assumed she was a submissive. All along I’ve been running on the assumption that she’s into having people beat her and then fuck her. Someone taking advantage of my poor, confused sister on her knees.

I never dreamed she was the one with the crop in her hand.

The illusion has been shattered, but I can’t seem to wrap my brain around the reality. “No one’s been tying you up and abusing you. Forcing you to stay at the club.”

She smirks. “I’d like to see them try.”

It never occurred to me that she was into Dominating—or more. “Do you like to hurt people?”

“Yes. No. I’m not a sadist. For me, hurting people is about control. I need to be in control. This is what’s made me okay again.” She lifts her head, daring me with her posture to try to make her feel bad about it.

But I can’t. Because now I know. Not the need to hurt people, but I understand the submissive side of it.

I found power in giving up my control to someone else. Tessa’s found power by taking control, by having people trust her to keep them safe when they need to let go. Instead of rigidly obsessing about her own control, with eating, with self-harming, she finds release in being someone else’s strength.

And there’s absolutely no shame in being who you are, knowing what you want, and going for it.

“So you’re a
Domme
.”

“I am
the
Domme of The Underground.” Her voice subtly changes, and I have to fight the urge to look at the floor to avoid her eyes. But twenty-five years of being her sister is stronger than a few weeks of submissive training.

“What does that mean exactly? Do you get a throne?”

She grins before standing and pacing on the shiny black floor. “It means that I am one of the best. That I hold power at The Underground.”

“So you’re in charge of things?”

“I have certain responsibilities.”

I want to stand, to move, to get a handle on this, but my legs aren’t quite cooperating. “And that’s what you were doing in Canada?”

“Yes. Reiley had me go check out a potential Domme up there. I recruit people—it’s another way we add members.”

She’s jetting around, free as a bird, actually healthy, and safe, and bringing others into the club. Who is this strong woman in front of me? It’s like I’m finally seeing her for the strong woman she is instead of the weak teenager I’ve been trying to protect for years. She’s not a victim. She’s not weak or using BDSM to hurt herself.

Relieved wonderment peels pounds of weight from my shoulders. “I don’t even know what to say. I was so wrong about everything.”

“Words aren’t important. Actions are.” She stands and opens her arms. I step into them, grateful for her forgiveness.

“I’ve
missed
you, Tessa.”

“Me too.”

“I can’t believe you called Dad and not me,” I mock-sulk.

“Well, that was partly to annoy you.” She pulls back with a smile on her face. “So, you and Darko, hey?”

“What? He was just teaching me about submission.”

Her eyes cut through that bullshit, leveling me with The Look that only sisters are capable of giving.

I sigh and burst into tears, unable to talk for a scary minute where I’m partly sure I’m losing my mind. She steers me to the couch and rubs my back until coherence returns and I can speak again. “He’s so much more than that. I love him, Tessa, but I fucked it all up.”

“How?”

“You know me.” I explain the whole sordid article angle, and my plan to fix things.

She passes me tissues. “You definitely fucked it up. Darko is the most honest, honorable man I know. The lie, and the doubt it’s caused, more than anything will be the thing you have to overcome. But if anyone can fix it, it’s you.”

“I hope so.”

“What’s done is done. If you’re better when you’re with him, then fight.” Her voice shakes. “Fight to get him back and don’t you ever let him walk away.”

“You’re not weirded out that I’m into submitting, even though you’re not into it?”

“I think Miss ‘plan the shit out of everything or the world will end’ learning to relax and let go is a good thing.” She bites her lip and winces with a smile. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re one of the biggest control freaks I’ve ever met, and in this world that’s saying something.”

“I’m not a control freak.”

She leans forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. “You are when it comes to me. The fact that Darko got you to give that up is a minor miracle.”

I brush the hair from her eyes. “God, that was annoying me. You need a trim.”

She laughs and shakes it back. “See? You can’t help yourself. You’ve hovered over me since we were kids, convinced that if you took your focus from me for too long I’d die. And yeah, for a while that was true. But along the way, I found something that makes me better. Someone showed me something that helped and I’m strong now. It’s time for you to let go and live your own life instead of worrying about me and mine.”

“I have been living my own life.”

“No, you haven’t. You know more about my life than I do.”

Maybe. “Because I care.”