by Jenna Black
I listened to Adam’s version of what happened and decided that even with my meager lying skills, I could pull it off. It was close enough to the truth not to make me squirm too badly. But what I really wanted to know was who the hell the woman with the gun had been. Luckily, Adam was in an expansive mood and was happy to tell me.
“Her name is Susan Harvey,” he said. “She’s an actress. A pretty good one, too, with aspirations of Broadway. She’s also a single mom, and Abraham kidnapped her son. She was ordered to put on the show of a lifetime, and if she failed to convince you, then she’d never see her son again. Ms. Harvey was contrite enough that she needed little persuasion to remember things the way we wanted her to.”
I remembered the nearly hysterical look in her eyes when Lugh had been about to stab Jessica. At the time, I’d interpreted it as Abraham’s excitement at seeing his revenge come to fruition, but the truth was it was unadulterated horror. Despite the fact that she’d held a gun to my head, I felt sorry for her.
“Is her son okay?” I asked, my voice weak and raspy from disuse.
Adam’s lips tightened with displeasure. “For the most part. Jessica had tied him up in her basement. She hadn’t exactly been gentle with him, and she hadn’t bothered to feed him or give him any water while she held him, but the doctors say he’ll make a full recovery.”
I shuddered, thinking that, with Abraham’s callous disregard for human life, the boy was lucky to be alive. Certainly he wouldn’t have survived once his mother had completed her mission. Nor would his mother, for that matter. I remembered how “Abraham” had held onto Jessica’s ankle, supposedly to keep her from getting away. I should have realized how strange that was at the time, seeing as Jessica was pretending to be so out of it she could barely move, much less make a run for it. If Lugh had gone through with it and stabbed Jessica, Abraham would have used that physical contact to transfer into Susan.
“Jessica had a child, too!” I gasped as I suddenly remembered.
Adam nodded. “But luckily she was visiting her grandparents for the week, so Jessica didn’t have to deal with her.” Because we both knew exactly how she would have dealt with such an inconvenience.
And now for the biggest question of all. “I assume Jessica was exorcized while I was out of it?” I shouldn’t have cared what happened to her. After all, she was a killer herself, or at least she thought she was. But no matter what the human host was like, I couldn’t help feeling sympathy for someone who’d had Abraham rampaging around in her head. “Is she one of the lucky ones?”
Adam’s face was hard, his expression stony. “Three different exorcists tried to cast Abraham out, but he was too strong for them.”
Horror stabbed through me. “Oh, no.”
His lips tipped into a smile, but his face retained that feeling of hardness. “It was poetic justice, Morgan. The only exorcist in the country—possibly even in the world—who could have cast him out is under suspension by the U.S. Exorcism Board because of the lawsuit Abraham himself put into motion.”
“Was poetic justice?”
He nodded. “Yeah. He was executed this morning at around eight, when the third exorcist failed to cast him out.”
“And so was Jessica,” I murmured, feeling cold.
Adam shrugged. “I can’t get too worked up about that,” he said. “She was no innocent bystander.”
Even though I saw his point, even though she’d kinda had it coming, in an Old Testament, eye-for-an-eye way, I still wished I’d been available to do the exorcism myself. I hated the idea of anyone being incinerated to destroy a demon.
My eyes slid closed, and I realized I had used up my meager strength. “I’m going to go back to sleep now.” Maybe when I woke up, things would look brighter.
I had the vague feeling that Adam stayed at my side until I fell asleep, but that was probably just my imagination.
I managed to fight my way out of the hospital the next day, against medical advice. Although I was feeling much better, my doctor still wanted me to stay for observation, because she had no idea what was wrong with me. She never would, either.
Dominic picked me up at the hospital to take me home, but since it was around lunchtime, and I was eating again, he took me to his and Adam’s place instead so he could set me up with some nourishing Italian food. Adam wasn’t home.
“It’s just leftovers,” Dominic said apologetically as he seated me at the kitchen table.
“After you were nice enough to come pick me up and to feed me, I can hardly complain about leftovers. Especially not if you made them.”
As usual, the praise made him blush. I lavished more on him when he served me the most delicious stuffed shells I’d ever eaten. I almost cried in gratitude when he put together a care package to take home with me.
When I say I almost cried, I mean it literally. Now that the crisis was over, the emotions I’d been holding at bay with a vengeance were eroding away my shields. I felt like there was an aching hole in my chest where Brian had once been. Even when I tried to summon some anger to bolster my defenses, I failed miserably. I couldn’t blame him for finally giving up on me. I just wished with all my being that he hadn’t. Or that I could go back in time and force myself to open up to him, to tell him the truth. To trust him, because he was right, and I’d often withheld my trust even when I knew in my heart he deserved it.
“Do you realize you’ve been staring off into space for almost ten minutes?” Dominic asked, startling me out of my reverie.
I blinked, then glanced at my watch. However, since I hadn’t thought to check the time when I spaced out, it didn’t do much good. “You’re shitting me.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Nope. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
I can’t count how many times in my life I’ve answered the “what’s wrong” question with “nothing,” even when the sky was falling. I almost did the same now by sheer reflex, but the words died in my throat.
“I need help trying to figure out how to win Brian back,” I blurted, and I don’t know who was more surprised, me or Dom.
He blinked at me like I had to be an imposter. “What kind of drugs do they have you on?”
I tried to laugh, but it was a pathetic effort. “If desperation is a drug, then I’m overdosing on it.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I love him too much to give up on us yet, but I don’t have a clue what to do.”
Dom looked at me long and hard. I couldn’t read the expression on his usually open book of a face. “I’m pretty sure I know what the problem is between you, but will you put it into words for me anyway?”
It was so unlike me to talk about my feelings that I almost wondered if I’d been brainwashed or put under hypnosis. But I kept talking anyway. “The problem is that I have major trust issues, and I’ve given Brian every reason to believe I don’t trust him to look out for me, to look out for himself, to make the right decisions …” My eyes blurred with tears. What an unholy mess I’d made of everything!
“So to have a hope to win him back, you’re going to have to prove that you trust him after all.”
“Just like that, huh? How can I prove it? I tried promising him I’d—”
Dominic cut me off, meeting my eyes and capturing me with an intense gaze. “Ask yourself why you’re asking me how to win Brian back.”
“Because you’re the only one I know who wouldn’t laugh at me, or patronize me, or tell me I was reaping what I sowed.”
He shook his head. “That’s not it, Morgan,” he said in a gently chiding voice.
“What do you mean? Of course that’s it!”
“I’m not going to do all the work for you. If you can’t dig the real reason out of your subconscious, then I can’t help you.”
I swallowed the next denial that wanted to spring to my lips. I had a funny feeling a part of me knew exactly what Dom was talking about—a part of me that wasn’t always on speaking terms with my conscious mind. A part of me I wasn’t sure I was
willing, or even able to acknowledge. A part of me that had some inkling of what gesture I could make to symbolize my trust.
Despite the sudden panic that screamed through me, I started putting the pieces of my own thoughts together. Brian had dropped me for my lack of trust. The only way I could hope to get him back was by proving that I did trust him. And the person I was asking advice from was the M half of an S&M relationship, a man who routinely made himself completely helpless before his lover and liked it.
“Oh shit,” I said in a near whisper as the tumblers in my mind lined up and the safe opened.
Dominic smiled. “I believe you’re beginning to get the picture.”
My only response was a loud gulp of fear. Brian and I had danced around the edges of some fairly kinky sex—thanks to Lugh giving Brian some pointers—but what I was thinking of now wasn’t dancing around the edge anymore.
“When you submit to someone you trust completely,” Dominic said softly, still smiling, “you open yourself up more fully than you can possibly imagine. Every part of you becomes vulnerable. It’s not just an act of the body. You’re opening up your emotions, the very essence of yourself.” The smile turned a bit sheepish. “Of course, I’m speaking specifically of myself. Not everyone experiences it the same way.”
I took a slow, deep breath and tried to push my panic out when I released it. “But if I’m looking for a metaphorical way to symbolize my trust …”
“Only if you think Brian is open to it,” Dom hedged. “It’s possible he’d be too weirded out to even realize there’s a message, much less understand it.”
But instinct told me he wouldn’t be weirded out. He’d shown no hint of discomfort when things had gotten a bit kinky between us—hell, he’d been a lot more comfortable about it than I was—and he’d clearly enjoyed himself.
“He’d get the message,” I said. Assuming I was willing to deliver said message, and he was willing to receive it.
Dom nodded. “I can’t guarantee it will be enough,” he reminded me. “But it would say a hell of a lot more than a bunch of words ever could.”
I had to agree with him there. I cleared my throat. “So what would I, uh, do?”
There was what I could only describe as an evil glint in Dominic’s eye.
“One of the reasons falling in love can be so scary is that you’re basically giving the other person your heart, along with all the weapons he needs to destroy it. You’re giving him the means to hurt you terribly, and trusting him not to do it even though you have no tangible guarantee. So, think about how you can symbolize that to Brian.”
I squirmed. “I have no experience with this S&M stuff.” My face burned. If you’d asked me a couple of weeks ago if there was a chance in hell I’d ever have a conversation like this, I’d have laughed.
Dom shook his head. “This isn’t really about SM. SM is about the giving and receiving of pleasure, just in unconventional ways. You can work out a lot of trust issues during SM play, but it’s still about pleasure for everyone involved. I’m not sure you’re ready to do it for pleasure yet.”
I bristled. “What do you mean, yet?”
His smile was both placid and disgustingly knowing. “You know how some of the most vehement homophobes sometimes turn out to be gays who’ve refused to come out of the closet?”
My cheeks were so hot I feared I might spontaneously combust. The harder I tried not to, the more I found myself thinking about the fantasies Lugh had created for me—and about some of my more … adventurous sexual forays with Brian. I decided my wisest course of action was to pretend I hadn’t heard what Dom had just said.
“This asking-an-expert-for-help thing isn’t working too well,” I muttered.
“If you want my advice on how to dip your toes into the BDSM pool, I’m happy to help. But if you’re just looking to make a grand symbolic gesture, then I think the ideas have to come from you or the gesture loses a lot of its power. That doesn’t mean I can’t help out—it just means I can’t tell you what you should do.”
Dom’s words resonated somehow, and I knew he was right. This was my gesture to make. The idea had to come from me.
My heart fluttered erratically in my chest as an idea began to form. Dom had described falling in love as giving the other person the means to hurt you and trusting them not to. And that was just what I was going to do.
I dug my courage out of hiding and met Dom’s eyes. “I’d like you to pack me up another care package, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to know what’s in it, but it shouldn’t be wimpy stuff.” I’m not sure there is such a thing as wimpy S&M gear, but that’s beside the point. “I’ll take it to Brian’s, and if he doesn’t slam the door in my face, I’ll give him carte blanche to use whatever’s in the package.”
For the first time, Dom looked dubious. “I’m not sure—”
“Brian wouldn’t hurt me. Even if you put something awful in the package, he wouldn’t use it. In fact, you should put something awful in there.”
Dom bit his lip. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to know.” I forced a seriously nervous smile. “It’s a demonstration of blind trust.”
He was silent for so long I thought for sure he was going to refuse.
“I can always go buy the crap, but you know I can’t afford it. I’ll do it if I have to, but—”
“All right, all right. At least if I choose the toys, I’ll know it’s the good stuff.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Dom.”
He grimaced. “I hope you’ll still be thanking me later.” He pushed away from the table.
“Don’t wimp out on me, okay?”
He met my eyes steadily. “I won’t,” he promised, and I knew it was the truth.
CHAPTER 30
I’ve faced a lynch mob that tried to burn me at the stake; a sociopathic demon who had every intention of torturing and then killing me; and a psycho demon who wanted to make the entire rest of my life a living hell. And yet I swear I was more frightened now, as I stood outside Brian’s door with Dominic’s “care package” at my feet, than I’d ever been in the face of true physical danger.
It had taken me more than three hours to get ready, as I’d considered and discarded about thirty different outfits, and at least another hour to nerve myself up to set foot outside my own apartment. Not that anyone would know how embarrassing my outfit was, since I’d covered all the sexy stuff with a mundane khaki shirtdress. No, the only sign that there was anything out of the ordinary was the pair of fuck-me pumps that had me teetering slightly with every step.
Everything I was wearing was brand-new, purchased specially for this occasion. The only reason it had taken me so long to get dressed was because I tried so many times to chicken out of my selections. But hell, if I was going to do this at all, I was going to do this right. If that meant adding a dash of humiliation to the experience, then so be it.
The people in Brian’s building know me by sight, and there was no sign they knew we had broken up. When I asked the front desk clerk not to call up to Brian’s apartment to let him know I was coming, he smiled at me and gave me a conspiratorial wink. It was almost enough to make me flee in terror, but once again I gave myself a mental kick in the ass.
Now there was only one thing left to do. I took a deep breath, wiped my sweaty palms on my dress, and rang the doorbell.
It was always possible I was getting myself all worked up for nothing. Maybe Brian would open the door, see me standing there, and shut it again without saying another word. Or I might tell him what I had in mind, and he would laugh at me. But in all honesty, that wasn’t how I expected this to go.
My heart was going at about a thousand beats per minute. When Brian opened the door, my heart went for a thousand and one.
The fact that he didn’t slam the door was both a relief and a source of terror. He cocked his head to one side, taking in my outfit from head to toe. His eyebrows arched when
he saw the shoes, and he looked even more taken aback when he saw the suitcase that contained the “toys,” as Dominic called them.
“May I come in?” I asked in a scratchy whisper.
I would have liked to look sexy for Brian, but all I could manage right now was not to look too much like a deer in the headlights. He couldn’t possibly miss how nervous I was.
“This ought to be interesting,” he murmured, a wry smile on his lips, as he opened the door wide enough to let me in.
I gulped. Step one was successfully completed: he hadn’t slammed the door in my face. As a bonus, he didn’t even look at me like I was the last person on earth he wanted to see. I hesitated only a moment before picking up the suitcase and going inside. Then I kinda ran out of steam and stood there in the entryway wondering how the hell to begin.
Brian came to stand in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest. “I have to admit, I’m insanely curious as to what you’re doing here and what’s in that mysterious suitcase,” he told me. He finished up with, “Nice shoes, by the way.”
I stiffened my spine to the best of my abilities, then met Brian’s eyes. “I’m here to beg you to take me back,” I said.
His eyes widened at that. I wasn’t one to beg, and he knew it. But after that moment of surprise, I could see him starting to shut down, closing his heart to me. I hurried on before he could finish that process.
“The reason you dumped me is because I’ve given you every reason to believe I don’t fully trust you. But the truth is, it’s not you I don’t trust, it’s me. I can’t get over the feeling that you’re just too damn good for me, and I’ve spent most of the time we’ve been together tensed and ready for the moment you’d wise up to what a lousy catch I was.” I took a deep, steadying breath. Not that it helped a whole lot. “I came here tonight to prove to you that I do trust you, with all my heart.”