by Alyssa Aaron
"Honey, I know you're better, but you're not really free of it even now,” he said softly. He held her, loving her, wanting what was best for her. He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb wishing he could forget the haunted expression in her eyes as she'd looked up at him in the first moments after she'd woken.
A dull sadness filled him as he gazed at her. He wanted to take away the past with its ugly memories and see her happy and carefree.
"I'm not completely free of the memories and probably never will be, but I'm okay,” Kara said softly. “I am happy for the first time in a long time."
"You're having bad dreams three or four nights a week, honey. That's not exactly my idea of everything being okay.” He stroked the hair away from her face, hating the shadows and sadness that had crept in to replace the joy and serenity that had been there just after their lovemaking.
Kara dipped her chin, her gaze studiously avoiding his as she chewed her lower lip. He could feel her sadness. It emanated from her like an invisible cloud that surrounded her. Helplessness unfurled within him. He didn't know what to do to dismantle the memories or to erase the sadness though everything in him wanted to do both.
He sighed. He needed some help, even if Kara didn't believe she did. “I've done some checking and have found a very highly respected psychiatrist that specializes in adult survivors of childhood trauma. I think it might be a good idea for you to see her honey."
The words struck her, stinging like an unexpected slap to the face. Shock, hurt, anger and fear crashed over her leaving a sharp pain where just moments before bliss had dwelled. She turned her face from him, dark emotions tripping over each other as they ripped through her soul leaving a gaping emptiness where her heart had been.
Her lungs seemed to constrict. Her chest ached. She wanted space. She needed space. She needed to be away from Slade.
"Are you hungry?” She pushed the question past the tightness in her chest, desperate to put space between them.
"Yeah, I am actually,” he said smiling down at her, seemingly oblivious to the emotions that churned within her. He kissed her slowly, gently, his mouth caressing hers. She kissed him back but inside she felt desperately alone. Her belief that he was strong enough to deal with the ramifications of her past was shattered.
They got up and she fixed supper, though what she really wanted to do was curl into a tight ball until the ugly, dark, feelings that filled her faded.
She sliced onions and mushrooms and cut sirloin into pieces, feeling disconnected from the task and lost within the emotions that surrounded her.
She felt as if she'd been plunged into an icy cold darkness, where no light could reach her and where only fear and anger resided. The ugly, bleak, desolate feeling surrounded her, closing out everything else. She wanted to believe in the love Slade had shown her, but it was as if his suggestion that she see a psychiatrist had poisoned everything that had come before, making her feel disconnected from the feelings of love and security that had once been so strong.
She wanted to forget his words, ignore the fact that he saw her as damaged, but she couldn't push the words out of her mind. The more his words tumbled through her mind the more tangled her feelings became until all that was left was a wall of distrust and hurt that closed in on her, trapping her in a desolate space where she was alone with the memories of abandonment that filled her soul, taunting her with the knowledge that no one had ever been able to stick it out in the face of the terror she had faced. Slade had been her champion, her beacon. She had believed in him in an almost worshipful way, seeing him as her knight in shining armor. She'd seen him as the one person whose love was strong enough to stand against the memories of the past. She'd believed that he had the power to restore her, to show her how to be whole again.
Darkness filled her soul as she realized he was no knight, no superhero with the superhuman capability to stand by her, protecting her from the ugliness of the past. No matter how much she wished she didn't, she knew the pattern of abandonment. She'd experienced it too many times not to recognize the signs, not to see it coming way before it arrived. The suggestion that she see a therapist always came before the abandonment. It had happened over and over again in her life with her family, her teachers, her mentors. No one she knew had ever been able to accept her the way she was, accept that the things that had been done to her were hellacious, that though she went on with life there wasn't a way to wipe them from her memory.
Everyone wanted to fix her. When she remained unfixed, because she remained impacted by the things that had happened during her eight days of hell they abandoned her.
Even more than she ached because Slade's words themselves hurt, she ached because she recognized the pattern. She saw the beginning of the end as she'd seen it so many times before. She didn't want it to end. She couldn't imagine life without his love, his power, his direction.
No matter what else happened around her his abandonment loomed on the horizon turning her world a deep, inescapable gray that remained, day after day, enclosing her in ever deepening layers of grief as the days passed one into the next in slow, sad cadence.
She cleaned the house, cooked the meals, made love with Slade, but there was no pleasure in any of it. There was always the knowledge that anything they shared was temporary and that when it ended she would be without him.
Her sadness deepened so far that when one of Slade's projects got off track and required him to work late into the evenings she felt nothing but relief. His absence in the evenings relieved her of the task of pretending that everything was okay while despair closed in on her like a giant tidal wave that she couldn't escape.
She released a deep breath, the hollowness within her threatening to swallow her. Even the reprieve his late nights had provided was destined to end. Slade had called early in the afternoon to let her know he would be home from work at the normal time.
Tears hovered but she pushed them down refusing to shed them. She couldn't allow them now. If she did she'd be all blotchy by the time Slade got home. He'd demand to know what was wrong and she'd have no answer, at least not one she wanted to share.
Chapter 23
Slade parked the SUV in the garage and cut the engine. He lifted his hand and massaged the tension and the ache at the base of his neck.
Things at work had been jammed up for the past week and a half and he'd worked late every night. He was tired and looking forward to a good night's sleep and a relaxing weekend, though both were out of the question till he sorted things out with Kara.
Things with her were in as big a mess as things at work had been. She had been listless and distant for the better part of two weeks. He didn't know whether she was angry about the fact that he'd had to work a lot of late nights or whether there was something else that was eating at her. He had asked her several times what was wrong but had only received a glum, “Nothing's the matter,” in response to his questions.
He would have set matters right sooner except that he'd worked late and had come home most nights to find her already asleep.
On the nights she was awake when he got home he hadn't wanted to push her about her moodiness. He'd been bushed himself and in no frame of mind to deal rationally with issues she didn't want to talk about. He'd hoped that given a little time and space she would process whatever was upsetting her and bring it up herself.
Nearly two weeks had passed and she hadn't brought anything up and her mood hadn't improved with time. Instead she had grown more and more melancholy, her moods seeming darker and bleaker with each passing day.
He sighed. At least the project at work was finally back on track. It was Friday, and he was home on time. He had the whole night, and the weekend if necessary, to put things back on the right track with Kara.
He thought back, trying to remember exactly when things had begun to go wrong. It had seemed like everything had been perfect between them. He smiled to himself as he remembered the night she had met him at the door in nothing but pink l
ace. He remembered the sweet way she'd told him she wanted him to master her and the tender way he had claimed her. They had been so close, so intimate that night.
He frowned, wondering how things had turned so quickly from the warmth and intimacy they'd shared that night to the cold and distance that dominated their relationship now. He thought back over the things that had been going on at around the time things had begun to go south, trying to pinpoint something that might have caused Kara's bleak mood. He wondered briefly if he had started it by mentioning the psychiatrist.
That was the only thing he could remember that might have caused trouble between them. He thought back. She hadn't said much about it at the time he'd brought it up, and he'd let it drop. He did remember that she'd been a little distant when they'd eaten dinner. She'd claimed at the time that she was just tired and he'd had no reason to doubt her.
In thinking about it, it didn't seem likely his suggestion that she see the psychiatrist was the cause of her moodiness. Her reaction to the suggestion had been almost non-existent.
His mind turned the events of the past week and a half over in his mind. Kara wasn't any less obedient or any less submissive. She always did the things he asked her to do and always tended to his wants and needs. The problem was that there was an edge to her actions, a sense that she was just going through the motions, doing what she needed to do to get by. There was none of the pleasure she had once taken in pleasing him.
She seemed to respond physically to his lovemaking, but the closeness, the intimacy, the joy she had once taken in it was missing.
He tunneled his fingers through his hair. He knew she was deeply unhappy and as long as she was miserable he could not be happy.
He turned the key in the lock and turned the knob pushing the door open and stepping into the kitchen. His gut tightened when he noticed Kara at the counter, her back to him as she sliced carrots into small round discs. He missed the excitement that used to race through him when she would meet him at the door, wrapping her arms around him and lifting her mouth for his kiss. Her greetings had always made him feel like he was important, like she couldn't wait for him to get home from work. Now it felt like she didn't care whether he came home at all.
He wanted the old Kara back, wanted their old relationship back. He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her against him, his hands lightly skimming her tummy and her breasts as he nuzzled her neck. She stood placidly within his embrace, neither encouraging nor overtly discouraging his touch.
He felt for a moment like he was trying to make out with a cold, impersonal, statue and he didn't like the feeling. Frustration swelled. His temper was controlled but it flared inside him. He'd had enough of the bleak mood and he wasn't in any frame of mind to hear again that nothing was the matter when clearly something was wrong.
"Alright. Enough Already,” he said softly as he reached past her to take the knife she was using to massacre the carrots and slamming it onto the counter. He turned her towards him, and stood looking down at her, his jaw tight.
"Alright, what gives? You've groused around here like you'd like to take my leg off for the better part of two weeks.” She looked up at him and he noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way her brown eyes darted away from his. “What is the matter Kara?” he asked softly.
She dipped her head, her eyes drifting to the floor in a way that reminded him of a puppy that had just been swatted with a rolled up newspaper.
"N-nothing.” She answered backing away until her bottom bumped into the counter.
His frustration swelled. “I'm not buying that.” His voice was soft, but he advanced on her, closing the space between them. He lifted her chin so that she had no alternative but to meet his gaze. “Whatever it is, you know I love you. You know we'll work it out. It's clear you're unhappy, now what gives?"
She jerked her face from his grasp and turned away from him, her back held ramrod straight.
"Nothing. Nothing is the matter.” Her voice was tense, sharp.
Frustration surged through him.
He grasped her shoulders and spun her back around to face him, his patience spent. “I'm neither blind nor stupid. A blind man could see that you are unhappy, honey,” he sighed trying to rein in his frustration. “I'm out of patience with beating around the block. Either you stop avoiding me and tell me what is the matter or I'm going to assume that you just need an attitude adjustment and paddle your ass like I should have done two weeks ago, when this sullen, moody, shit first started."
Kara's gaze flew up to meet his, her features cloaked in a combination of wariness and fear. He felt a wave of guilt work through him as he remembered how fearful she'd been of being spanked when they'd talked about it on their honeymoon.
She looked to each side, clearly looking for an escape route. His heart stuttered as he realized that this was the first time he'd ever spoken roughly to her. It was the first time he'd ever been even marginally angry with her.
He sucked in a deep breath. He was frustrated as almighty hell with the sullen, moodiness and her refusal to tell him what was the matter but his frustration didn't stop him from loving her or from caring that she was unhappy. It made him want to understand what was wrong so he could make it better.
He shoved his hand roughly through his hair, feeling ashamed of himself for using the threat of something he knew she was afraid of to make her talk. He didn't want to be short or harsh with her. He didn't want to hurt her. When it came right down to it, he didn't want to do anything but hold her and make everything alright again. The problem was he saw no way of getting to the point where he could do that without knowing what was bothering her.
Kara looked up at him, a shiver coursing through her. He was intimidating as he loomed above her, his jaw tight. There was a tired, edgy, frustrated look around his eyes that made her feel nervous and unsettled. If she could have, she would have backed away.
He had never looked at her with frustration or anger before and it caused a deep stab of pain that he was frustrated and angry with her now. The thought that he might actually carry through on his threat to spank her unfurled within her as her gaze ran up his length, pausing to take in the black wool coat that hung open at the front allowing her a glimpse of his crisp white shirt and the navy and black striped tie that was still knotted at his neck.
His threat, his expression, and the formal work attire all intimidated her. She longed to back away, to put space between them, but there was nowhere she could go. She was trapped between him and the counter.
"Which is it going to be?” His voice was soft, coaxing, but it felt menacing to Kara as the blood hammered in her ears. She pressed against the counter in a vain attempt to move further away from him.
"Slade, I don't want to do this."
"Tough. I don't remember giving you a choice."
She wanted to shrink out of sight. She didn't want to give voice to the terrible empty feeling that gnawed at her insides. She dipped her head and bit her lip, willing him to go away, willing the whole ugly situation to go away.
She wanted to avoid both him and the anguish that filled her. She wanted to avoid the pent up tears that made her chest and throat ache.
She sucked a deep breath. All she knew for sure was that she hurt, that the pain was a deep gaping hole she didn't know how to fill.
She felt betrayed, and angry. The trust she'd once felt was shattered. She no longer believed he wanted her or her submission. She didn't believe he wanted to care for her. She couldn't even think of any reason why he'd want to. She was damaged, broken. He deserved better.
She was consumed with grief, certain it was only a matter of time before he walked away and left her with her scarred and battered soul the same way everyone else had.
She swallowed hard, fighting back the unshed tears that had shadowed her for the better part of two weeks. She couldn't talk about it, but she knew it was time she accept the reality. There had never been anyone she could truly co
unt on, and there never would be.
Slade's deep sigh drew her attention. Her gaze climbed slowly up his chest to his face. “Which is it going to be Kara?"
She bit her lip, trembling, the tears she'd vowed she wouldn't shed battering against her control. She'd once thought that him spanking her was the worst thing he could do to her, she now knew that that wasn't even close to the pain of him leaving her.
Her heart pounded in her chest as he stood looking down at her, his eyes dark, his jaw tight and inflexible. She didn't want him to spank her. The violence of the act frightened her and brought up bad memories. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears.
"You promised you wouldn't spank me unless it was right for me.” She squeezed the words past the lump in her throat as she shrank against the counter.
He moved closer, his body almost touching hers, the closeness intimidating in spite of the softness of his voice when he spoke. “In part of that same conversation, when I took the spanking off the table, I said I wouldn't spank you unless you deliberately ignored an order, which is exactly what you're doing. But even so, the promise was before you gave yourself to me, before you asked me to be your master.” He tipped her chin up and peered into her eyes. “Are you telling me you no longer want to submit to me?"
She shook her head slowly and blinked back tears as she met his steely gaze. She swallowed hard. She couldn't tell him she didn't want him to be her master, when she wanted his power, his stability so much. If only she could believe that he would be her master, that he'd stay her master, that he wouldn't tire of the impact of the nightmares and panic attacks and leave her when seeing a psychiatrist didn't cure her.
"You promised submission and obedience when we got married and you repeated that promise when you gave yourself to me. You knew what the consequences of disobedience would be then.” He stroked her cheek, his slate colored eyes studying her intently.