Make Me (8 page)

Last night, anxiety curled up on my chest like a housecat. The things I’ve learned are disconcerting, but when Darko explains them they make sense and resonate with me, but that only makes things worse because then who the hell am I? Uncertainty and attraction set my mind spinning for hours.

When I’m with him, the things he tells me feel right, but I’ve never run on feelings. Logic and reason are my comfort zones. Intuition isn’t the same thing as following my body’s lust—and that’s tugging me toward Darko, so I can’t listen to my body. The things he said last night made me want to dive right in because I wanted to, not for an article to prove a point to Tessa.

When he’s not here, it’s easier for logic to seep in and tell me the whole thing was madness and endorphins, not a valid lifestyle choice.

I’m going to find the truth and expose it. I want to do it because it’s a great story that will prove to Tessa the very real dangers of BDSM and how easy it is to get sucked into the lifestyle.

Not because I want Darko to order me to my knees and then show me the darkest depths of his imagination.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Email from Shawna, my editor.

If this article is going to take off, we need it to be huge. Go deep. Immerse yourself in it. Make it graphic, scandalous. Juicy details. Pictures of the whip marks on your ass.

Oh my god! I am so not taking pictures of my ass. There’s a line between gratuity and ugly truth. Maybe if he marks up my back like that submissive I saw flogged. A tingle ripples through me.

“It’s time.”

Two words that freeze my feet in place when I rise from the couch in the large hotel suite. Beneath the satin robe, I’ve only got panties and a strapless bra on. What the hell was I thinking? I can’t do this. I barely know this man, and I’m giving him
carte blanche
to do whatever he wants to my body?

Darko moves in front of me, stares deep into my eyes. “Take a deep breath. We will be using the green, yellow, red today, until you decide on a safeword. I’m going to assume things are green unless you say yellow, which means I’ll change the direction the scene is going. If you say red, the scene immediately stops, no questions asked. Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Who is in control?”

I haul in a shaky breath. “I am.”

His hands stroke my shoulders, calming me. “What will you say to stop the scene?”

“Red.” Somehow it’s easier when his dark blue gaze is locked on mine. I crack my knuckles and nod. “Let’s do this.”

“Two things first. Are you participating freely and willingly?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Good. Turn around.”

No sooner have I complied when silky darkness covers my eyes. “A blindfold?” Not thrilled about this, but I hold it in place while he firmly ties it. I tip my head back, hoping for a tiny gap to cheat and see out of, but there’s only darkness. I breathe deeper to stave off the fear at losing a sense, at losing control.

He checks the knot. “Yes. But there’s more.”

Something touches the side of my face and I jerk away.

“Sorry. It’s an ear plug.”

This time I hold still while he moves my hair, and then the sound is muffled in my left ear. Gingerly, I touch it and wiggle the foam around until it’s more comfortable and feels secure. “Wait! If I’m blindfolded and can’t hear, how will I know what to do?”

“That won’t be a problem. The scene begins now. Please remove your robe.”

With a deep breath, I take it off, shivering more from nervousness than from the cool air.

“You can do this.” Darko’s voice is right beside me and comforting, but the other earplug is inserted and I’m left in a personal dark silence. Fear immediately floods in.

I’m standing in my underwear in an insanely expensive hotel suite with the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and I have no idea what he means to do with me. A nervous laugh bubbles up. Darko’s hand tightens on my upper arm, and I recognize the action as one meant to be reassuring.

He really cares about my feelings and making me comfortable. He’s done nothing but nurture and encourage me and remind me that I am the one in charge.

And yet, nerves rise as he walks me around the room. I want to rip off the blindfold, dig out the earplugs, but it’s mind over matter. The thought that I cling to? I want to prove I can do this. If I can’t get over the sensory deprivation now, how will I get through the rest of the scene? Besides, a little darkness never hurt anyone.

I shiver, feeling self-conscious, but my spine stiffens and I walk confidently. He’s not going to lead me into anything or make me trip. I’d rather trust that Darko has my safety in mind and look confident than skulk around like an abused dog.

We come to a halt, and he removes his hand. It takes me a minute to realize his body heat at my side is gone as well. As much as I want to reach out to feel for him, I remain still, even holding my hands behind my back in an attempt to appear casual.

They say when you lose one sense, the rest overcompensate and heighten. I’m two down, which should make me pretty sensitive, but I still gasp and flinch away from the tap on my right shoulder. Fear’s grown with every breath too. I don’t expect the stinging blow that lands on the back of my left thigh directly after.

“Shit!”

Another, much harder, on my left ass cheek, sharp and hot.

This time I keep my mouth shut as memories of Pakistan that I’ve worked hard to suppress come flooding back hard. Fists and feet, hatred pouring all over me from a crowd of angry men unleashing their frustrations on my body, I’m lost in my past in a way I haven’t been since the attack.

This is why I need control. This is what I run from, the thing that makes me feel small and scared and fragile. These memories.

I smell blood and realize through a haze that it’s my own. Blood and sand and pain mingle in my mouth, a cocktail of fear I’m drowning in again.

Two years ago, and I can’t move for the fear paralyzing me now. Clenching my teeth to remain silent, I breathe slowly, deeply, heart racing in fear and confusion. Dizziness swarms the inside of my head, and my heart beats painfully hard.

I cringe away from the touch at my hair until I realize I can see.

Darko’s face comes into view as he takes off the blindfold before removing the earplugs. “Red.” He gently guides me to the floor and rubs long, comforting strokes up my back. “Talk to me, Sloane.”

I shake my head to rid myself of the flashback of one of the worst memories of my life. It’s a long moment before I can speak. “I don’t even know what happened.”

He pulls me into his arms. “The scene triggered something. What was it?”

“I had an experience once.” My words dry up.

“You’re safe now. What happened? Face it with me.”

“I was attacked.”

His gaze hardens. “Were you...?”

“I wasn’t raped. It wasn’t that kind of attack.” The men who hurt me did it for political reasons, not for sex.

He smoothes my hair back from my face. “And emotionally?”

The deep sympathy on his face makes me want to run away. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Because you need to get it out. And because I care.”

If The Underground was able to get my medical records on such short notice, they’d have been able to get police records—there are plenty of pics from them, leaked to the press. Hell, he could have just Googled my name and seen the live footage for himself. But if Darko’s seen the footage of the longest twelve minutes of my life, and the aftermath, nothing in his eyes gives it away. There’s no pity. No avoidance. I relax. My ugliest memory is safe.

His sigh is heavy. “I’m sorry you had to go through something that terrible.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

Don’t look at me with pity.
“Don’t act like you know what it’s like.”

He tips my chin up to look at him. “Sloane, what do you think I am?” There’s no pity in his blue eyes, just curiosity.

“What?” Where is this going? “You’re a Dominant.”

“What else?”

I pull back to see him better. “A man.”

“I’ve lived thirty years outside the club walls. Surely you realize kink is but one aspect of my life.”

That hadn’t occurred to me, actually. He’s so well-suited to the club that it’s hard to imagine him out in the world doing mundane things like riding a bus or shopping for groceries. Taking out the trash. The thought of him behind a white picket fence tugs a laugh from me. No, he’s a tiger in a tuxedo. Graceful, dangerous, pretending to be civilized. Someone who knows war is hell.

An animal in bed?

Someone who cares enough to always make sure I’m okay, even when he’s got the power. He stopped the scene, not me.

“Has a scene ever brought back bad memories for you?”

He nods. “I didn’t know this would trigger you, but I suspected something like this might happen at some point.”

“And you still put me through this?” I’m not angry, just surprised.

“I cannot teach you submission by avoiding things that might make you uncomfortable. More than that, sometimes our minds can’t release traumatic things until we know we’re completely ready and in a safe place.”

“This is safe?”

He adjusts his position, cradling me more fully. “Listen to your body, Sloane. What is it telling you?”

My body further relaxes against his, even as I intellectually know I shouldn’t feel secure at all. He’s barely more than a stranger who blindfolded me while suspecting I’d react badly, but my mind is overruled by the bone-deep relaxation I’m experiencing. This is what being hypnotized must feel like; I’m aware of everything, but don’t care to move. I’m too relaxed. “I see your point.”

Does he take care of everyone this way, or is it just me? Maybe if Tessa was with someone like him, she’d be okay in this lifestyle. No, he said they’d never done anything. My heart wobbles with a strange relief that he and Tessa aren’t romantically connected. An idea occurs, and I can’t force it away. I’m tired of running from my past. I want to face it instead of suppress it, and my body is telling me that Darko can help me with that.

I thought I’d finally gotten over the nightmares of my attack, but maybe I’ve only been pushing them away to deal with at some indeterminate time in the future when I was ready.

Maybe today is that day. “Do you think we could continue the scene?”

He studies my face for a moment. “Are you sure? I understand if it’s too much.”

“I want to see if I can get through it now. Get some of that taint out of my system once and for all.”

He smiles. “Very well. But remember to safeout if you need to.”

“I will.” But I don’t think I’ll need to. He stopped the scene for me when he knew I wasn’t in a good place. I want to continue with him, and my body seems to think Darko’s trustworthy.

He stands and helps me up before slipping the blindfold back on and replacing the earplugs. The fear I felt the first time he blindfolded me is gone.

While he leads me back to where I was before he stopped the scene, I reflect on what the scene is about. What does Darko want? This is happening while I can’t see or hear. Why? Will the entire round happen while I’m blindfolded and unable to listen? What is he judging? My reactions? How can I react to something if I don’t know what he’s doing, what he wants me to do? He hasn’t told me to do anything.