Marc shook his head no. “She’s the only mother I’ve ever known, or can remember at least. I’ve had a conversation with her about my origins, but I am certain she skirted the truth. I’ve also flown to Italy and talked with my biological father. He’s a pompous ass and a womanizer. If not for Angelina, I probably would have wound up being just like him twenty-five years from now. I guess blood is thicker than water.”
“You’re not pompous. And, as far as I’ve seen, you’ve only been with one woman at a time. Might have been joined by another Dom on occasion to fulfill some sub’s fantasy for a scene, but there still was only one woman at a time.”
Maybe he wasn’t as fucked up as he thought. “I guess I’ve just gone through too many of them over the years. I could never commit to any of them.”
“Maybe none of the others were right for you.”
“Possibly. But Angelina’s the one. I want to share the rest of my life with her.” But I’m going to lose her if I don’t get my shit together. Marc blinked at the stinging in his eyes.
Adam nodded. “What else do you know about your past that might be relevant?”
“Solari—my sperm-donor father—said he and Mama, my adopted mama, had an affair that resulted in my birth.”
“This is sounding like a fucking soap opera. Is he credible?”
Marc ran a hand through his hair. “How the hell should I know? I can’t trust anyone.”
“No small wonder, but why do you put your faith in an ass you hardly know when you’ve known your mother your entire life, or close to it? Blood has nothing to do with who your family is. Joni’s mom taught me more about good parenting than my own parents did. Surely you can see that Mrs. D’Alessio is more your mother than anyone who gave you up for adoption.”
Marc avoided eye contact. “There’s something she isn’t telling me. For all I know, she gave birth to me. So why won’t she just tell me that? Why should it be a secret thirty-four years later?”
“Since when does a parent have to tell her kids everything?”
He wasn’t getting anywhere with Adam. How could he make him understand the way he felt?
Adam leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk. “What are you expecting me to get out of you if you aren’t able to remember on your own?”
“Find out what the hell I’m blocking out. I need answers.”
Adam thought for a long time and came to some sort of decision. He rested his hip on the edge of the desk. “Marc, I know how hard it is to sort out shit from the past. Last year, I started having flashbacks about how my dad died. Hell, I was convinced I’d murdered him myself.”
Holy shit. Marc had no idea the man’s father had even been murdered. He didn’t really know a lot about Adam’s past. The man didn’t talk much about anything like that.
“How did you know you didn’t do it?”
“That’s the thing, if left to my own repressed memories that had started bubbling up for some damned reason, maybe because my defenses were down after the cougar attack, I’d have gone to my grave thinking that’s what happened. I was ready to go to the authorities in Minneapolis and turn myself in when Karla, with Grant’s interference, located my mother.”
Marc couldn’t tell if he was happy about the women interfering in his past, but he had seemed proud to have his mother at his wedding.
“That’s when I found out what really happened. There was a time I didn’t ever want to face her again, but she held the key to so much information I never would have discovered poking around my psyche. I still don’t remember that night with any clarity. Our minds will fight to the death to keep us from seeing some things.”
“You think there’s something that fucked up in my head?”
Adam reached out and squeezed Marc’s shoulder but didn’t respond.
Marc thought he’d break down then and there. He’d closed himself off from everyone for months. Just having that simple human contact did something to him. His eyes filled with tears, but no fucking way would he cry, even if he did hover on the edge of exhaustion.
Marc leaned back in the seat, breaking contact, and Adam returned to his seat behind the desk. Perhaps they both needed the desk as a buffer. Marc breathed a little easier again.
“If your real mother died when you were three, your mind had no way of processing reality at that age. Being abandoned by your mother that young would fuck up any kid. Doesn’t take a fucking magician to figure that one out.”
“How can it be repressed if I know it happened?”
“You said yourself you didn’t know about another mother until recently. It’s information you have lying on the surface now, but until you can face that moment of ultimate separation head on, developmentally you’ll remain that little boy who’s afraid to love again for fear of losing another person in your life.”
Marc narrowed his gaze before he looked away, scowling. This conversation had gotten deeper than anything he and Adam had ever discussed.
Adam leaned on his elbows on the desktop. “You know as well as I do nothing we try is going to guarantee any accuracy in retrieving repressed memories. With both types of interrogations, in the club and those using SERE School tactics, you get more reliable results if the subject is at least cognizant on a conscious level of the information the interrogator is trying to obtain. And mind games are most effective on someone who isn’t expecting one.”
“I feel like the information is right there, I just can’t retrieve it. I wasn’t so young that I’d have zero memory of it. My biological father dropped a few hints about what happened.”
“May I talk with your parents?”
“Which ones?”
“As far as I’m concerned, your real ones—Mama and Papa D’Alessio. They’re the only parents you’ve known most of your life.”
Marc wasn’t sure why Adam talking with them bothered him. He didn’t want them to know how fucked-up he was about his past. They’d tried their best and, if not for Melissa dropping the bombshell about him being adopted, he’d probably have gone to his grave believing they were his biological parents. According to Solari, one of them was.
“I don’t want to appear ungrateful for all they’d done for me. Somehow digging into the past seems disloyal. I’m not sure I want them to know what’s going on.”
“Soft limit then.”
Soft? Well, he had said he wasn’t sure, rather than give Adam an adamant “No.”
Adam leaned back in his swivel chair and rubbed the back of his neck. “How about talking to Angelina?”
As long as Adam kept her out of the scene. Marc would be in an extremely vulnerable state if Adam went anywhere near SERE training techniques. Did he want her to see him that way? Yet, wasn’t that the fucking problem? If he couldn’t let her in on something this crucial, how would he be able to give himself to her in a serious, life-long commitment?
No, he didn’t want her there. “She may be able to fill in some of the blanks to help jar my memory, but use her as a last resort.” Why was he being such a chickenshit?
“What does she know so far?”
Marc explained what they’d learned from the conversation back in February, after the anniversary dinner, and what Marc had told her about the visit with his father the other night. “I’m sure she doesn’t know anything more.”
“Haven’t you talked with Angelina about this since your reunion the other night?”
“No. We aren’t talking again.”
“You sleep together the night of Luke’s accident?”
“Yeah—we slept. No sex.” He’d honored her limits, just hadn’t been able to give her what she needed, other than that tiny glimpse into the inner workings of his soul.
“Good. You two need to figure out some shit before you jump into bed again.”
Adam had never given Marc dating advice before. Perhaps he should have come to him sooner. Marc had blown any chance of reconciliation because of his boundless insecurities when he shut down on her again.
“Sounds as though he’s out of the woods medically. Not sure when we’ll get him down off the mountain, though. Angelina’s brothers are helping with the horses out at his ranch.”
Adam shook his head. “They were both damned lucky. That avalanche could have killed them both. Thank God I didn’t let Karla go up there for a visit.”
If anything happened to Karla or the baby…Marc didn’t think Adam would survive. He’d suffered so many losses already. This time, his overprotectiveness paid off and Karla had been safe. The man had been hypervigilant all these months worrying about every potential threat to his pregnant wife’s health and safety. Being responsible for others took a lot out of a person.
Yet, Marc knew he’d be the same way in Adam’s shoes. The thought of seeing Angelina carrying his baby warmed something deep inside him and was something he hoped to experience one day for himself.
“I need Angelina in my life, but I can’t go back to her unless I know who the fuck I am and get past this block that’s keeping me from being able to commit myself to her completely.”
Adam nodded. “Anyone off-limits for being an active participant in this scene?”
Marc thought for a while. Angelina.
“What was that thought?”
Observant man. He had to be if he was going to get Marc through this scene successfully.
“Just wondering if Angelina has to be involved other than feeding you some information up front.”
“Can’t say until we get started. She on your hard limits list?”
Was she? Did it matter if she was? Marc had no idea if Adam planned to honor or push him on his limits. The goal of this scene was all about reuniting with her and working out their problems that seemed insurmountable. Would seeing him in such a vulnerable state make that outcome more or less likely? Making himself vulnerable to her would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but wasn’t that the reason she’d left—twice—because he wouldn’t let down his guard or let her get that close? Having her there might not be a bad thing.
Marc sighed. “Soft limit. If you can do it without her, I’d prefer that, but if you think she can help, I don’t want to tie your hands.”
“Speaking of which, any types of restraints on the hard-limit list?”
Angelina had restrained him when she tried to top him, and he hadn’t freaked out. “Don’t think so.”
“Do I need to uphold the Geneva Convention and avoid torture tactics?”
Marc’s heart pounded with a new ferocity. Torture? Just what did Adam have in mind? Obviously he wasn’t planning on a military interrogation scene, but would Marc be considered the enemy?
Trust him.
Marc called his bluff. “Do whatever you need to do.”
The grin on Adam’s face didn’t bode well for him. “What’s your biggest fear?”
Fear? “Losing Angelina.”
“More primal that that. Something that’s been with you longer—maybe your whole fucking life.”
Marc thought, but drew a blank.
“What makes you break out in a cold sweat?”
As if on cue, his skin became clammy.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Tell me.”
“Feeling trapped.”
“Like in a hole?”
Marc shook his head. “Not exactly. I don’t know how to explain it. Trapped. Cooped up. Unable to breathe. Smothered.”
“Alone?”
Marc’s throat closed off and he croaked, “Yes. Well, I think so, anyway.”
Adam scrutinized him a while longer across the desk and then noted something on the pad. He leaned forward on his elbows, staring at Marc across the desk. “Just to clarify, you’re giving me full control without restrictions. Any hard limits are mere suggestions. You’re giving up your use of a safeword. That’s the only way this will have a chance of working. While you trust me to do no harm, there are some inherent risks in doing what I have in mind. I can’t predict or control all outcomes. You going to allow me to proceed and relinquish your safeword?”
Marc’s chest ached from either holding his breath, or the beating of his heart. If he allowed himself to safeword, it would give him an easy out again, enabling him to continue to run from whatever had kept him in fear mode his whole life.
Marc cleared his throat. “I am giving you full control in the scene. No restrictions. No hard limits. No safeword. I’m aware of the inherent risks, but I want you to proceed as you see fit. Do whatever it takes.” He paused a moment before adding, “I’d prefer not to have an audience unless absolutely necessary. Just you and me.”
“Are you already trying to control the parameters of my scene, Marc?”
Marc felt a moment’s dread, but he really did need to turn himself over completely to Adam in order for this to work.
With no small amount of trepidation, he responded, “No, Top. You do what you have to do.”
“Let’s finish this discussion in the interrogation room. Grant’s got a video camera set up there. I want to tape your consent before we start. No doubt some of those I’d ask to participate in the scene will balk before they’ll join me unless they see you giving full consent, no safeword. I’ll also want you to sign a statement of consent for the RACK conditions and giving up your safeword, in case I need further proof I didn’t go batshit crazy on you.”
“That’s fine.”
They walked upstairs to theme room four and Marc entered wondering if this is where Adam would conduct the scene, as well. Interrogation scenes could be effective in getting at triggers and buried memories.
The red light flickered, but Adam quickly grabbed Marc’s attention.
“Give a statement about what you’ve asked me to do.”
Marc repeated much of what they’d talked about in Adam’s office.
Adam added, “Once the scene starts, safeword or not, you will tell me immediately if there’s any numbness in extremities or muscle cramps so I can determine if they warrant a change of position or tactics.”
Marc nodded.
“This is a video, Doc. The proper response is ‘I understand, Top.’”
“I understand, Top.”
“You’re aware I won’t be telling you anything about what I’m planning to do ahead of time or during this scene.”
“Yes, Top.”
Marc couldn’t know which tactics were real and which were mind games once they began. He’d have to believe it was all real as Adam took him through the scene and broke him down to a level psychologically, somewhere beyond losing his ego and full-on sleep-deprived psychosis, where Adam could pick at those buried memories.
“I need to get my life back, Adam…” he turned to the camera, “…and whoever else is watching this.” He focused on Adam again. “I need to know why the hell I keep screwing things up with Angelina. I need to know what happened to make me like this. Simply hearing it from Mama won’t cut it. There have been too many lies. I need to experience those early feelings again. It’s no different than what Damián does with his bottoms, only I need catharsis of a different kind.”
“Well, if it will help get your head out of your ass, then you’ve got my full support. I’ll close the club down for a week when we do this and send out e-mail notices to members so they can plan accordingly.”
A week? What the hell had he just committed himself to? How long did Adam think he’d need? Marc had figured on two days tops. Perhaps Adam was including aftercare in that assessment, the time he would need to process whatever happened during the scene. Unless Adam expected him to need time to reintegrate after a full mental break. Hell, that would take more than a week.
Marc hoped this worked.
“Just remember, Doc, you’ve agreed to a RACK scene. I won’t stop when you hit the emotional wall that’s blocking you. There’s every possibility of you experiencing an emotional break that can’t be mended. You sure you want to go through with this?”
&
nbsp; He’d never participated in a Risk Aware Consensual Kink scene before, as Top or bottom. This definitely wasn’t going to be a military interrogation adhering to the Geneva Convention bans on torture either. In a RACK scene, Marc would be broken down, mentally and physically. If his mind wasn’t able to reintegrate, he might lose Angelina anyway. He might even lose the ability to function physically and not be able to relate to her in the only way he knew how—sexually and as her Dom.
But if he didn’t try, he would lose her anyway—and his very soul. “I have no choice. I can’t keep running.”
Adam proceeded to get him to repeat that he’d forego a safeword, as well as the Geneva Convention, and agree to whatever Adam decided he needed in the scene.
“Consider it done.” Adam stood and walked around the desk to shut off the camera. “Oh, and on your way home, hit the surplus or thrift store for clothes you won’t mind losing. Wear them when you come over for the scene. Don’t want to mess up any of those high-priced civvies of yours.”
Marc swallowed hard as he rose from the chair. He didn’t know what Adam had planned but had no choice but to comply.
“I’m going to ask you again before we start to ensure your willingness to proceed, so if you have any second thoughts, or even fourth or fifth ones, you’ll be given one more time to opt out. After that, your ass is mine.”
“I understand and appreciate that, but I won’t be backing down.”
“I’ll still ask.”
Lord, don’t let me chicken out.
“Any blackout dates you can’t do, Marc?”
Marc pulled out his phone and pulled up the calendar app. “Let me check and see if I can find a few free days in a row.” Things were slowing down at the outfitter store with the snowmelt and instability of the remaining snow and ice. “The remainder of this week looks pretty clear, actually.”
“We’ll probably need two full weeks before you’ll be able to work again—inside the store, at least. You won’t be in any shape for a nature trek for about a month.”
The man hadn’t been kidding. He might lose a few clients in the process if he couldn’t find other outdoor enthusiasts to lead any already-booked treks but to hell with clients. Angelina was all that mattered.
Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) Page 38