His Perfect Submissive

by Alyssa Aaron

  Allowing her to leave their marriage was the only way he knew to give her the peace she deserved. Much as he hated the thought he knew that what he needed to do was back slowly out of her life and release her without inflicting any more damage than he'd already inflicted.

  He heard her moving around in the bathroom and wished for the thousandth time that he knew how to heal the emotional injuries the bastard who had raped her had inflicted. He wished he could make himself believe it was even possible for her to be free of the memories. The knowledge that she was still so wounded she needed to sleep with a light on sucked any remnants of hope out of him.

  "Did you have a good sleep?” he asked when she finally emerged from the bedroom looking rumpled and bed tousled a few minutes later.

  "I slept like a rock,” she answered. “Did you sleep?"

  He shook his head. “No, I watched football and watched the snow fall."

  "It snowed?” she asked her face brightening for a split second before the twinkle in her eyes flickered and died.

  "It was still snowing the last time I looked,” he answered. “Are you hungry? Want to go get some dinner?"

  She nodded. “Will you give me a minute to get presentable?"

  "You're well past presentable. You're beautiful Kara, inside and out. You always have been.” He said the words softly, more to himself than her.

  She raised her gaze to his, as her heart gave a painful shudder. Beautiful no. I'm used, injured, permanently fearful. She was confused. Why would he call her beautiful when he knew about the rape, when he was sending her home because he no longer wanted her?

  She felt his impending absence acutely. Bleakness swelled and overwhelmed her as she contemplated her life without him.

  I like him. I like being with him. I like the way he makes me feel safe, protected, honored. Maybe I even love him. The knowledge that there wasn't any maybe about it hit her hard and heavy, stealing her breath like a sudden unexpected jab to the chest.

  Overwhelmed by the sudden knowledge that she loved him she turned and fled toward the bathroom before she lost control and gave in to the helpless tears that still clogged her throat in spite of an afternoon spent trying to push them aside.

  She ran a comb through her hair and changed her mussed clothes before rejoining Slade.

  "Ready?” he asked?

  She nodded, and took the hand he offered. Her heart clenched at the warmth that shot through her as his large hand engulfed her smaller one.

  The knowledge that she would miss him tightened the noose around her heart intensifying the ache that filled her chest.

  * * * *

  Slade hated the awkwardness and distance between them.

  He had tried several times to start a conversation but Kara was quiet and withdrawn. She was more withdrawn than she'd been even after their wedding when she'd been terrified of him. At least then she'd been willing to let him in, willing to talk about why she was so afraid.

  Tonight she kept to her side of the vehicle, responding only when she had to. She had left him and mentally was already back home with her mother, he supposed.

  Dinner was a nearly silent affair and he wished for the warm conversation they had enjoyed the night before. Then he had been cognizant that they were both engaged in trying to build something. Tonight he was aware only of the crumbling of even the barest of friendship and the weight of impending loss.

  He sighed as he paid for their dinners, wishing he hadn't promised Kara they would stay in town for the Christmas festival. The prospect of Christmas carols, and jostling amongst a crowd of excited shoppers and animated children only served to remind him of the future he'd envisioned sharing with Kara, and the profound knowledge that she was leaving and he would miss her.

  He did his best to push thoughts of missing her out of his mind as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket and wished the waitress a happy holiday.

  He couldn't heal Kara's past. He couldn't take away the memories that caused her panic attacks, but he could damn well let her enjoy the Christmas festival without allowing his bleak mood to ruin it for her.

  He offered his hand, his body heating when she slid her smaller hand trustingly into his. Once on the sidewalk, they were greeted by the familiar strains of “Silent Night” being sung by a band of roving carolers.

  He and Kara wandered hand in hand up the brick sidewalk. He noticed a smiling couple peering into a display of engagement rings in the window of the jewelry store and felt a stab of regret. He wished he'd taken time to take Kara shopping for an engagement ring before their marriage instead of settling for a simple wedding band with a single diamond. He wished he'd taken enough time to make her happy about their engagement instead of forcing her into it. If he had had more time to date her she might have told him about the rape and he might have been able to avoid hurting her.

  Another couple passed, their eyes bright, their voices low as they whispered conspiratorially over the heads of two blonde haired little girls who danced along the sidewalk in front of them.

  A younger couple shuffled by them. The husband labored under an armload of packages and the woman waddled, her pregnant tummy shifting from side to side as she trudged through the snow. Their evident happiness cut at Slade. He'd hoped he and Kara would have children together someday.

  The breath shuddered in his chest. It was possible that they could still have a child together. They hadn't taken precautions that morning. Kara could have become pregnant.

  The thought jarred him. He had wanted a baby with her, had even fantasized about watching her tummy grow large and going to the doctor with her, listening to their baby's heartbeat together.

  The images in his mind died a slow death. Although a pregnancy would tie her to him, and perhaps give him another chance to make their marriage work he did not want her to be pregnant. He could not think of anything that would be worse for her than to be tied to him and to their marriage because she was carrying his baby.

  The loss of their future and everything he'd hoped to build with her filled him with heavy grief. He sighed, and cleared his throat; eager to be away from the glitter of Christmas and the joyous atmosphere that was so at odds with his own bleak mood.

  "Did you say something?” Kara asked, her eyes lifting.

  Slade stared down at her, mesmerized as big fluffy snowflakes kissed her cheeks and clung to her eyelashes. Her eyes twinkled in the light cast from the street lamps that lined the street. She was beautiful; so damned soft, so gentle, so seductively submissive. Just looking at her made him want to take her in his arms and make slow passionate love to her.

  But something about her expression stopped his wayward thoughts. Something wasn't right. What he'd at first thought was merriment making her eyes sparkle couldn't be merriment because she didn't look happy. In fact when he looked closely everything about her seemed stiff and tight.

  Kara turned away quickly, as she felt her control over her emotions begin to crumble. She did not want to cry. She didn't want Slade to know how much his rejection hurt, nor did she want him to feel as if he had to stay married to her out of some misplaced sense of integrity.

  I am not going to cry, she told herself as she stared unseeing into the window of the dime store. She willed the sobs to stay lodged in her throat and prayed Slade would remain oblivious to the dampness that moistened her cheeks.

  She felt his hands on her shoulders, felt him turning her toward him and gulped back a sob. “Are you crying?” he asked suspiciously.

  "No, I have something in my eye.” She choked out the lie.

  Slade's eyes narrowed as he peered down at her. “No you're crying,” he said softly as he continued to stare down at her.

  She remained silent, the band around her chest tightening as she struggled to keep her sobs from breaking loose.

  "Talk to me honey, what's wrong? Are you that eager to be home?"

  She bit her lip, swallowing a new tide of tears that swelled in her chest. She shook her head side-to
-side and wished she could melt into the snow near their feet.

  Chapter 17

  Slade backed her into the alley and moved so that his body shielded her from the curious stares of passers by. “Kara? Honey? Tell me what's wrong.” His voice was gentle, beseeching.

  She kept her gaze pinned to the ground as she shook her head, and bit her lip in an effort to hold back the tide of emotion that had been building all day. How could she tell him she didn't want to go home, that she wanted to stay married to him when their entire marriage had been a farce? What kind of person was she to want to be with someone that didn't want to be with her?

  "Bad memories?"

  She shook her head.

  "Then what?"

  She turned her face away from his searching gaze as fresh tears leaked from her eyes and trickled in icy rivulets down her cheeks. He reached out, his hand gentle on her cheek as he turned her face back toward him, not allowing her to avoid his gaze as her misery choked her. “Talk to me baby. What's going on? Why are you so unhappy?"

  She drew a deep breath, wanting more than anything else to be wrapped in the comforting warmth of his arms, and to have that reassuring warmth mean that he still wanted her.

  "I won't touch you tonight. I'll sleep on the couch if that's what you're afraid of.” His voice was gentle as he wiped his palms gently over her damp cheeks then wiped her tears on his jeans.

  She swallowed back a tide of fresh pain. “N-no, that's not it.” She sighed.

  "Then what is?"

  She stared at the ground, feeling trapped by his unwavering scrutiny and his persistent questioning. The knowledge that he wasn't going to stop badgering her until she told him why she was upset settled into her. She drew a deep breath and said, “You're sending me—h-home.” The pain she'd wanted to hide from him was thick in her voice.

  He stared at her, his expression perplexed. “I thought—-” He sighed, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Don't you want to go home Kara?"

  She burrowed deeper into her coat but found the layers of wool poor protection against the shame that swept her. “I should be happy to go b-back to my own life b-but I'm not.” She choked back a strangled sob and dashed at her tears with the back of her hand.

  "Are you trying to say you want to stay—married?"

  Fresh tears trickled down her face. She shook her head helplessly. She wanted to stay married, but not if he didn't want it too.

  "Kara?” His voice was gentle but had taken on that edge that said he wouldn't be dissuaded.

  She swallowed hard, her chest aching with despair. “Not when you don't want me."

  "Not want you?” His sigh was deep and harsh but when he spoke again his voice was so soft it made her heart catch. “Honey it's not like that. I want you more than I've ever wanted any woman in my life.” He sighed and reached out to stroke a tender hand over her damp cheek.

  "I don't understand—then why?” The words exited on a shaky breath as she raised her gaze, searching his expression in order to make sense of the confusion in her mind.

  He sighed deeply. “Because, being married to me is painful for you, Kara.” His voice was hard. “I hurt you—I knew there would be a period of adjustment. I didn't expect you to be happy right away but I didn't expect to make you miserable. I didn't expect to hurt you at every turn.” He sighed. “I won't keep torturing you while I hope it gets better."

  "Slade,” she sighed raising her gaze to meet his. “I'm okay. I'm emotionally fried but it's not your fault."

  "The hell its not.” His voice was little more than a soft hiss. “I took advantage of your brother's situation to force you into a marriage any idiot should have been able to see you were terrified of. I thought that if I gave you enough time it would work out."

  She kept her gaze focused on him, her heart thudding heavily in her chest.

  "I hadn't intended to initiate sex until you were comfortable with me but you seemed resigned. I thought if I made it good for you it would help.” He sighed. “If I'd known about the rape then—” He sighed his brow furrowing.

  "I should have told you about—about what happened sooner—"

  "Yes, you should have.” His gaze met hers with unflinching candor. “Telling would have saved you an awful lot of distress. But I understand why you didn't. You didn't have any reason to trust me at that point."

  She dipped her head. “I was terrified it would be like being raped again."

  "I'm sorry honey.” His words were soft, like a caress that swirled over her. “It shouldn't have been like that. I would give anything if I could go back and make it better."

  "I couldn't tell you.” She took a deep breath. “I was afraid if I told you—you wouldn't want me and you'd go to the police about Ted."

  "Honey, there is nothing, nothing at all, about what happened to you that makes me want you any less,” he said meeting her gaze with unwavering seriousness.

  "Even the panic attack?"

  He shook his head as he met her gaze. “Did I treat you like I wanted to get rid of you?"

  Slade watched the emotions that played across her face and the softening of her features as she considered his question. “No,” she answered slowly, “you didn't treat me like you wanted to be rid of me.” She drew a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “I'm sorry about—um—” her gaze shied away from his. “I'm sorry about—the way—um—the panic attack happened. I didn't know it was going to happen when it did. I expected it—early—when you first started——” She looked up, her gaze skittish and shy. “I didn't feel the fear and revulsion I'd expected to feel."

  The jagged edges of guilt he'd felt since she'd told him the details of the rape began to smooth. He swallowed feeling the lessening of tension that had been balled in his chest since early that afternoon. “I'm glad honey."

  He stroked her hair back away from her damp cheeks and drew a deep breath. It was important that she understand why he had offered to let her go. “After you told me about the rape this afternoon—I—” he shook his head and took a deep breath. “I kept imagining how it must have been for you—how every time I touched you it must have reminded you of being raped. I couldn't stop imagining how that must have felt. I couldn't justify continuing to do something that would hurt you that much."

  She shook her head fixing him with her gaze. “It wasn't anything like—-” He watched her, his gaze taking in the nuances of emotion that flitted across her face as she moistened her lips. “I wasn't afraid once you started talking to me. I trusted you and what you were doing felt—good. It was nothing like being raped, Slade. Nothing at all."

  "But—something happened to cause the panic attack—” He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  She dipped her head, unable to meet his gaze as remembered shame washed over her. “When you—when you—held my head.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and shook her head as if to dislodge the memory. “He did th-that—when—when—he made me—” She swallowed back her revulsion and shame and the rising nausea that came with it. “Wh-When you held my head like that there was no warning. It—it was like falling into a slow motion flashback and not being able to get out. By the time I knew where I was it was too late. I was already in the bathroom being sick and you were there."

  He took her hands, drawing her toward him and easing her against his length. “I'm sorry honey,” he said pulling her head against the hollow of his shoulder and cradling it there.

  She relaxed against him, thankful to be in the safe harbor of his arms again. She didn't want to think about anything except how safe she felt as he folded her against him.

  Slade loved the soft sigh of contentment that eased from her body as she pressed her face against his chest and relaxed in his arms.

  "It wasn't your fault. You had no way to know it would trigger anything,” she whispered.

  The deep remorse that had filled him when he'd listened to her describe her victimization that afternoon began to ease. Tendrils of hope began to work through him.

 
He closed his eyes, savoring the simple pleasure of having her safe and snug in his arms. He inhaled the delicate musky scent that wafted upward, taking pleasure in the way her curves pressed against him.

  Her softness sent his mind spiraling with visions of making the slowest, sweetest, most gentle love to her. He wanted to show her with his mouth, his hands, and his body how much he loved her, how much he desired and wanted her. He ached with the need to make her feel safe. He wanted to see her smile without there being any unhappiness to mar her beauty.

  He didn't want to let her go, not now, not ever. “Kara honey,” he sighed as he stroked her cheek and rocked her gently. “I know our marriage got off to a rocky start. I know it has been painful for you, but I believe that if we both want to we can make it work. Will you stay with me and let me try to make things right between us?"

  Her head lifted and she gazed at him, her expression soft as she met his gaze. “There won't be any pressure. We'll take whatever time you need."

  The warmth in her eyes touched him, filling him with tenderness and the need to give her everything she needed to be happy in their marriage.

  "There are no strings. I won't go to the police if you say no. You don't have to submit or have sex or do anything else you don't want to do. I just want to start over, to see if we can make our marriage work. I want to make you happy honey."

  She sighed. “You don't need another chance, you haven't done anything wrong. You gave me a chance to keep my brother out of jail, and I appreciated that. You told me what you wanted. If anyone's at fault it's me. I'm the one that's having trouble living up to my end of the bargain."

  "Agreement or not, you've been miserable honey. Making you unhappy wasn't ever part of the bargain."

  "Me not being happy—it's—” she drew a deep breath and started again. “Me not being happy—,” she sighed. “It's not your fault. I haven't been really happy since before—the rape."