by P Nelson
“Hello, beautiful.” Dillon wanted to touch her, but Calla had told him to take things slowly with her. Even though it was hard to think of Thea as a victim that was exactly what she had been. A victim. Now he would make sure Thea was also a survivor. She breathed out heavily.
“Yes, you are still beautiful to me. Always in my eyes,” Dillon spoke softly. Another longer humph. He glanced over at the doorway to see Mrs Demopoulos watching the exchange intently. “When can she talk again?”
“There was significant damage to her trachea.” Mrs Demopoulos moved closer to the bed. “And they had to stick a tube down her throat to help her breath.” She choked on the last words. “It created more damage, but Dr Selkirk is confident her loss of voice is not permanent. She needs to rest, let the damage heal on its own.”
“Hear that, beautiful?” He imagined the frown on Thea’s face as he continued to use the term of endearment. “No ordering me around for a while yet.” He smiled and reached out instinctively to brush a lock of her hair away. Thea’s whole body locked, and Dillon caught his hand back. “Sorry, love. I forgot. It’s just so damn good to see you alive. I thought I’d lost you.” He took a deep breath and forced a smile.
“I know you’re made of sterner stuff than most. You don’t have to argue with me.” Dillon continued his one-sided conversation, saw the effort it was taking her to keep her one eye open. “Everyone has sent messages and flowers.” He surveyed the room. “You can’t have flowers in here, but there’s a florist in the waiting room.” He held his breath before continuing. “The subs have started to talk about a revolution since you’ve been gone. We need you back at The Cage.” He paused. “I need you back.” Thea closed her eye, Dillon wasn’t sure if it was a trick of light, but he thought he saw Thea’s muscles relax further.
“Sleep, my gorgeous girl. When you wake up, you’ll be that much better.” Dillon refrained from touching her even though it burned his hands to keep them from her skin.
“You love her.” Mrs Demopoulos’s words filtered to Dillon as his brain worked over everything Thea was going to need to make a full recovery.
“More than my own life,” he revealed to the woman who had effectively obstructed his access to Thea for the past four days.
“How can you love only her when you have sex with all of those other girls?” The direct question hit Dillon in the guts, and he shifted his gaze back to Thea.
This was definitely not a conversation he was comfortable having with the mother of the woman he loved who didn’t accept her kink side let alone a person acting in pornographic films. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to make the effort. This was important, and he couldn’t resolve it with a flippant remark or two.
“It’s hard for people outside of the business to understand the separation between love and sex.” Dillon continued to stare at Thea. “Sex is a physical act. Yes, it can be tied to love. For me with Thea.” He paused for a minute searching for the words. “I would give her anything she wanted. My mind, my soul, and my body.” The statement was inadequate, unable to encompass everything he held inside for the woman in front of him, but he had never been a poet. He was a Dom. And a Dom showed love for their subs through an array of different actions. So how did one Dom go about showing his love for another Domme?
Chapter Eleven
Two Weeks Later…
“And I told you I don’t want any more!” Thea yelled from her hospital bed in the surgical ward. She had been pleased when Dr Selkirk moved her from the ICU a week after opening her eye for the first time. The medical staff led by Dr Selkirk were still worried about infection. She could only speak for a few days, but she was more than making up for her previous enforced silence. Dillon stood just outside the door to her room and listened to the often-repeated argument inside.
“Dr Selkirk says you must stay in bed at the hospital to aid your recovery. Your back. Your…” Thea’s mother trailed off. Maria and Dillon had formed a delicate alliance after she had allowed him into Thea’s sickroom. One of her brothers or her father still stood guard in the waiting room along with some of the police force who were not on duty protecting Thea from Esposito who Thea had identified as her abductor. Unfortunately, Esposito had run to ground and even Linkin’s expertise hadn’t been able to track the fucker down. Dillon would put money on Esposito lying low for now and waiting until his chances were better before attacking Thea again. The asshole was just as smart as he was sadistic.
Thea had given her former partner and the police chief an excellent description of Esposito. The dick had also left his DNA and fingerprints all over her in his flight to escape Linkin and his team. Keith Selkirk had made plain Thea’s extensive injuries not long after Dillon had gotten in to see her.
The skin on her back was healing but would bear the scars of the horsewhip Esposito had used on her. There would be trace scars on her belly, thighs, and breasts from the whipping, but they were not as extensive. Her physical wounds were healing, but no one could tell how deep the psychological wounds ran in Thea’s psyche. That Thea was unwilling or perhaps just unable to speak of the horrors she suffered and witnessed in the basement was telling enough.
“I’m an adult, and I want to go home. I don’t need to be here.” Thea’s Domme persona came out on Maria, and Dillon winced. Time for the cavalry.
“Good morning, beautiful.” Dillon stepped into the room carrying a bag of donuts and carrier with three cups of coffee. Thea’s eyes narrowed on Dillon’s face, but she wisely said nothing. The food in the hospital was getting to her, and she was putty in his hands for a maple cream donut. Another thing they had in common despite all the other shit keeping them apart. “Is that your sexy voice everyone can hear down the hall?”
“I want to go home.” Thea sulked as she stared at the bag of goodies he brought with him. Dillon walked to the side of the bed and leaned down to give Thea a kiss on the cheek. She accepted the affection even though any hands near her face made her freeze in panic.
“Your eyes are looking much better today,” Dillon remarked. He handed over the paper bag, studying her still-swollen face, skin discoloured by bruises. She had been lucky her jaw remained intact. The dental surgeon had been through a couple of days ago and declared Thea’s smile would be as good as new as soon as she healed enough to work on her missing teeth. For now, she wore bridge with a couple of false ones so she could eat and speak properly.
“I could forgive you for calling me beautiful.” Thea reached inside and pulled out a maple cream.
“Is this how I taught you to behave?” Maria asked in a huff. Dillon passed her one of the coffees from the tray, and the older woman smiled. When she did that, Dillon could see where Thea had inherited her charm.
“Maybe I’d be less grumpy if I had my own things here,” Thea remarked. Dillon’s heart seized as her tongue came out and licked cream off her mouth. He was a bastard for even thinking she was the hottest thing since sliced bread as she sat in a hospital bed recovering from torture.
“You can’t go back to your place even if you were released right now,” Dillon sat down in one of the chairs alongside Thea’s bed. He removed the lid from his own coffee cup and blew on the hot liquid waiting for the explosion from the bed. It wasn’t long in coming.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Dillon. You are not my…” Thea peered over her donut at her mom and quickly changed the end of her statement. “Boyfriend. Despite what everyone thinks, you,” she pointed at him, “and me...” She pointed at herself. “Are not an item of any sort.” Wriggling back into the plastic chair and doing his best to appear relaxed and comfortable, Dillon shook his head at her.
“That’s where you’re wrong. We’re together, and I’m not the one telling you that you can’t go home.” It was the only thing he agreed with her father about. He and the police chief had spoken to Thea about the measures put in place to ensure her safety. One measure was her apartment. The media had gotten hold of her personal address and camped out there dur
ing Thea’s capture. It was not a safe place for her to stay even if Esposito hadn’t already known where she lived.
Even though the police along with Linkin had made great strides in the case thanks to Thea’s identification and other evidence gathered from the three residences Linkin’s team raided, they were no closer to catching him. It was as if he disappeared right out of the city. Dillon set his frustration at the stall in the case aside. Right now, he needed to focus on Thea and what was best for her.
“Listen to Mr Ross, Thea.” Dillon grimaced taking a sip of his coffee. Maria still hadn’t consented to using his first name even though he had told her she was welcome a dozen times.
“His name is Dillon, Mama.” Thea pulled another donut from the bag.
“Don’t take the fact you’re pissed off out on your mom.” The words shot out of Dillon’s mouth before he could recall them.
“Stop trying to top me.” Thea stared at him, the donut forgotten halfway to her mouth.
“Not everything is about power, Thea. This is common sense.” Dillon inhaled deeply.
“Everything is about sex, and sex is about power.” Thea reminded him of an often repeated saying about sex and power by a literary giant.
“You staying safe isn’t about sex to me,” Dillon pointed out. Thea opened her mouth to argue, but Maria cut her off.
“Stop being so difficult. You were always the most difficult of all my children. Why couldn’t you be like the rest of them? Your brothers were so easy.” Maria’s words cracked at the end of the sentence. The last few weeks had taken their toll on Maria Demopoulos. First, her daughter’s secret BDSM identity was outed to the media, and then someone kidnapped her. And none of that could put to rest the familial discord that already existed between mother and daughter as well as at times father and daughter.
“Get out.” Thea’s face had turned stony. A rage most subs at the club would have been astonished to see on the face of the Domme in Residence surfacing. “You don’t get to bring up how I’m not the perfect daughter right now. Accept me for who I am.”
“Don’t talk to your mother in that tone,” Alexander Demopoulos, Thea’s father stood in the doorway. “You’re an ungrateful child. We gave you everything, and this is how you treat us?” Dillon had recognised Alexander as a man with traditional patriarchal views on the world. Given Thea’s more aggressive personality, she would have found it extremely difficult to flourish under strict rules for outdated female behaviour.
“I don’t think this is the time or place for this discussion,” Dillon stood up and set his coffee cup aside.
“Yes, it is, for family only.” Alexander put extra emphasis on the words sounding like a hardened police detective.
“He’s more my family than you,” Thea accused and even though Dillon relished those words from Thea’s mouth. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe they meant anything more than to hurt her parents.
“If you want to leave the hospital, then you can come home with me and your mother,” Alexander continued, ignoring the barb.
“Over my dead body,” Thea protested.
“You came close to making sure of that.” Alexander didn’t contain his fury. “This lifestyle, as you call it.” He swiped a hand through the air. “It has ruined your career, your life. Now you spend your time with men like him.” He pointed at Dillon. His temper rising to the surface, Dillon was about to speak when Thea interrupted.
“He’s twice the man you ever were.” Thea sat up straight in the bed even though Dillon realised her stitched skin must be painful under duress. “I tried to do everything you ever wanted, but nothing was ever good enough. I joined the force, hoping you’d look at me differently, and you never did. If I ever had a father, it was the chief.” Thea took a deep breath, tears falling down her battered face. “Get out. I need some space from all of you.” She hiccupped, and Dillon made to move towards the door. “Stay, Dillon. You stay.” The words were hushed, but Dillon allowed hope to rise in his chest where just before an empty pit had been torn open by her command to leave.
Dillon and Thea waited as her parents left the room in silence. Maria with her shoulders slumped and Alexander with an expression that told Dillon this was far from over. The door clicked shut.
“Come to me, please.” Thea’s green gaze bored into him as he glanced at her, startled.
“Thea, this is not a good idea.” Dillon had to force his body not to take a step back.
“If you can’t even face me the way I look now, how long do you think you can put up with me when the bandages come off.” Thea’s tone was razor-sharp, meant to cut him, lacerate her further.
“Don’t make stupid assumptions.” Dillon stepped closer to the bed. The plastic railing pressed into his thighs. It was lowered for Thea to get in and out of bed. “I don’t want to scare you or cause you more pain.” Dillon swept his gaze over her. “Christ. There isn’t a single part of you that’s unbruised.” He swallowed. “What about what he did to you?”
“All I have had are the hands of strangers on me.” Thea’s eyes urged him to understand. “Don’t touch my face, my forehead. Just wrap your arms around me. Hold me like you love me, please.” The soft request had Dillon slipping carefully onto the bed, gently to not to disturb the tubes and wires connecting her the machines around the bed. Dillon lifted her onto his lap. She had lost weight in the days since her capture, but Dillon was going to help her get her curves back. She pressed her face into his neck as he carefully wrapped his arms around her. She sighed, and more tears wet the front of his shirt. “I feel like I’m broken inside.”
Chapter Twelve
In her head, Thea comprehended she was being stupid. Unfortunately, her heart and her tear ducts were another matter entirely. A sadistic killer had punctured the walls she had built over the years, only to have her family bring her down completely. Thea had always known the line she walked between Mistress Thea, Detective Demopoulos, and daughter/sister was damn thin. Now, to witness the rejection first hand was even more devastating than she could imagine.
She listened to Dillon’s words of comfort. At first, the confines of his arms had been unpleasant. The only thing keeping her from the edge of panic was the mantra in her head repeating itself. This is Dillon. Dillon is safe. A minute or two later, she could breathe. The action allowing her senses to recognise Dillon’s aftershave and his hard, lean body pressed against her own. It was nothing like Esposito’s soft body. Cursing the weakness forcing her to crave comfort, she pulled away.
“I’m an idiot.” Thea wiped her face carefully with her shaking hands. The skin around her wrists was raw and bruised, covered by bandages.
“Why?” Dillon wore a confused expression.
“This.” She gestured around the room and immediately regretted the action. Her skin pulling taut had been painful and uncomfortable before, now it itched like the devil as it healed. Uncomfortable was an understatement. “I don’t have breakdowns.” The room was silent for a long time, and Thea wondered what Dillon was thinking. Did he think she was having a breakdown? That she needed to have a breakdown? She wasn’t going to lose her shit. Not over any of this.
“You need to speak with Calla,” were his first words. All the air rushed out of her lungs, and the tension when her mother tried to force her to do stuff she didn’t want came to the forefront.
“No.” Thea was adamant. Calla was an amazing psychologist, and the work she did at The Cage and in her own private practice was nothing short of a miracle. Besides, Calla was an amazing friend to her. Thea couldn’t bring herself to speak to her or anyone else for that matter. The hospitals assigned psychologist came by every day since Thea became conscious again. Every day, Thea either ignored her or told her she was wasting her time. She should go and help patients who couldn’t deal with their shit. Thea could deal with her own shit. She had been doing it for a long time.
“This I am an island stuff is bullshit. You know that, right?” Dillon didn’t yell or recriminate
. He was merely pointing out what he thought of Thea’s not needing help. Thinking about it, Thea wasn’t sure whether she had ever heard Dillon yell or get angry over anything since she had known him. “Occasionally, you have to let go of your shit to just move on.”
“Inspiring advice.” Thea shifted further out of Dillon’s arms. Sensing the moment was over; Dillon gently shuffled out from underneath her. He settled in the chair he had occupied before the fight with her dad, taking up his coffee cup once again.
“It’s fucking life changing.” He drank down some of the coffee. Thea recognised he was referring to the help he received from Calla when his ex-sub had accused him of being abusive. Dillon had lost his Dom mojo, and Calla had guided him back into his dominance.
“My situation is unconditionally different,” she started, and he interrupted her. Dillon swiped a hand through the air upsetting the paper cup he had left to stand on one of the armchairs. He grabbed it before the contents could spill over the floor.
“No, your situation is not different. Someone abducted you and held you in a fucking basement for twenty hours. He tortured you, and you witnessed the murder of another human being. Keith told me the damage to your throat was from you screaming it raw.” Thea flinched at every word he said. “Does any of this sound like a person who just gets over it without help?” She didn’t bother to answer. “You don’t get to try and be a hero with any of this, Thea. I get it. I do.” He shook his head. “I see your dad, your mom. I get you were never going to be the daughter they wanted. But you have so much to offer, and I want to see you offering it again. People accept you no matter what, Thea. I accept you no matter how all of this turns out.”