by Black, Lena
“Oh, Elle, you really can be quite difficult sometimes. If you had waited a moment more, you would have realized that’s not where I was going with my speech…well, not exactly.”
He pulls out the iconic blue jewelry box from Tiffany and Co., and hands it to me, examining me as I open it hesitantly, floored by what I find.
Chapter Seven
Collar Me Yours
The inch wide, solid platinum collar glistens in the golden flicker of the firelight, hypnotizing me. I notice there is a delicately engraved word on the side when the light plays across it. I pick it up to take a closer look, Hunt filching the box from my hand, and I’m able to read the intricate writing.
Hunt’s
There are no more words necessary. This one word, this name says it all. I stare down at the symbol of servitude, the symbol for Master and slave. There are a million thoughts flying through my head.
They must show on my face because Damian chimes in, “As I was trying to say, I want to be your Master, and I want you to be my sub. No more testing the waters or figuring out what works for us. Yes, we will continue to experiment and explore limits, however, I want to make this official...I want you to belong to me, totally.”
Holy fucking Jeez. What the hell am I supposed to do with this information? How do I even begin to process this?
Then, my head fixes on one question and I go with it. “Do you expect me to wear this in public?”
“This is for when we play,” he explains, “or when I deem it fitting whether in or out of our home. I do not expect you to wear it twenty-four/seven, though you would be my sub all day, every day.”
I glimpse at him with narrowed eyes. “I thought we had agreed that we wouldn’t be doing that.”
“We did before you decided to lie, break my heart, and run off. I realized that I needed to take you in hand and these rules will do you good.”
“Well, you should’ve also realized that I am not one to be tied down,” I state, realizing my choice in words may not have been the wisest, “uh, you get what I mean. We’ve gone over this.”
“I don’t want to limit you like I did the others.” He clarifies. “I told you, you aren’t what they were and you never will be. I don’t intend to put you on a leash with no freedoms to live a life outside of us. My demands and expectations are simple.”
He runs his hands through his hair, appearing as if he were trying to find the right words to express his meaning, finally getting a look of clarity.
“Yes, we discussed this all before, and I told you, I don’t want you to change that feisty, opinionated nature of yours…I don’t want to put you in a cage, Gabrielle. I want to set you free.”
While I watch him blankly, I remember what Brooke had said to me about never knowing if you’ll like it until you try. I’d enjoyed what we had before, even his dominant behavior, and it probably wouldn’t change much from that…It seems what he’s actually asking for is commitment, some reassurance that I am his and I won’t be leaving again.
“You just want a commitment,” I affirm. “Things won’t change, correct?”
“No, things will change. Once you place that collar about your neck, you will begin your training, and I will hold you to a higher standard of subservience. If you break the rules, such as you did when you broke it off, I will punish you. I expect you to follow my rules without question, as they are there to benefit us both. However, the dynamics of our relationship and your right to an opinion will not be affected by this.”
“Bullshit!” I exclaim. “The dynamics would change completely…”
“How?” he interrupts.
“What do you mean, how? How do you think?”
“Let me ask you a question…” he says then places a finger over his lips, tapping on them gently.
“Shoot, slick.”
“How do you see me?” he queries. “Do you see me differently then you did before you left?”
“That’s a ridiculous question,” I huff, rolling my eyes. “You’re Damian, now, then, tomorrow.”
“I know who I am, Elle. I meant, what was I to you? Was I your friend?” I stare at him awkwardly. “Well?”
“Yes,” I reply.
“Was I your lover?”
What is he getting at?
“Yes,” I answer again.
“Was I your protector, your companion, your boyfriend?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I say repeatedly, slightly annoyed.
“Was I your Dominant? Was I your Master?” He continues.
“Yes,” I whisper with my face tilted down, finally realizing where he’s going with this. He pinches my chin between his finger and thumb, gently forcing me to glance up at him.
“Do you still see me as all those things?” he asks in a tender, loving voice, setting his hand on the side of my face, and I nuzzle into it.
“Yes, of course.” I place my hand over his. “You know I do.”
“Then, how would the dynamic change? I don’t intend to stop being all those things to you. In fact, if I did, I couldn’t call myself your Dom, not a good one anyway…I told you, angel, the relationship between a Dom and his sub have many levels of commitment and dedication. Not everyone’s relationship is like ours, but we are not the minority either.”
“But, you want me to follow all those rules without question, and I don’t think I can,” I state.
“I don’t understand why.” He removes his hand from my face and wraps his arms about my waist. “I don’t think my rules were too farfetched, and you agreed to each one when we went over them in Seattle. You’re just frightened because I used the word ‘official’.”
“Yes, well, it’s just so…”
“Finite,” he adds, and I nod my head in agreement. “Yes, well, I am asking for a commitment from you, and not one you should take lightly…Which is why I will give you time to think about it and properly weigh out the choices.”
“What if I decide not to, will you end our relationship completely?” I ask, realizing the stupidity of the question too late.”
The look of appalled horror on his face speaks volumes, but he verbalizes anyway, “How the fuck could you ask me that? Did I suggest that it was all or nothing, one or the other?”
“No,” I reply softly, “but you didn’t exactly say it wasn’t either.”
He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “Touché,” he retorts, seemingly defeated for the moment.
“Yes, but you shouldn’t have to specify that.” I quickly add. “I should know you would never leave me.”
“No, never.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me into his arms, sweeping his finger over my cheek. “Will this factor make your decision easier?”
“Yes.” I nod my head.
“Good,” he murmurs, tilting his face in and pecking me softly of the temple. “I eagerly anticipate your answer.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing in his arms. “Well, you weren’t kidding when you said you had a surprise for me.”
He chuckles. “That was only the beginning. I have more in store for you this evening.”
He kisses me on the tip of my nose, releases me, and walks over to the couch, picking up a black wool coat and throwing it on. I watch him curiously, as he snatches up something else and walks over to me, tossing it over my shoulders. It’s a black satin shawl with white lining on the reverse side.
While I admire the smooth, cool fabric with my fingertips, Hunt walks over to the table and blows out the candles, snatching my clutch before heading back over to me. I take it from him, and he guides us over to the elevator. He presses the touchscreen a few times, killing the fire and the lights, leaving only the glow of the city to give us sight. I gaze at Hunt, noticing the outline of his face gently etched by the soft light, the corners of his lips curving up slightly as he smiles to himself.
“What’s so amusing?” I ask, smirking up at him.
The elevator arrives and the doors slide open. Hunt doesn’t look at me; he just stares into
the elevator with that omniscient smirk plastered on his face. Before he steps inside, he casually says, “You may want to put that away.”
I realize what that mockingly smug look was for when I glimpse down at my hand clasping onto the collar. I open my clutch, slip it in, and snap the clasp closed, inhaling a large breath before taking my place next to Damian in the cab.
“Do you like it?” he inquires, still refusing to make eye contact with me.
“It’s…interesting,” I reply, glancing out the corner of my eye, and I spot the laughing smirk broadening his cheeks.
“Interesting,” he repeats with a shrug.
“It’s stunning…I love it,” I answer honestly.
“Just not what it stands for,” he retorts.
“I’m not sure what to feel about it.”
He finally turns to me, looking me in the eyes with an intense stare. “Do you hate the idea of being my sub full-time?”
“No.” I shake my head weakly.
“Do you like the idea?”
I turn to him. “I love being your sub. I love pleasing you, but…”
“But?” he asks with eager curiosity, though he tries to hide it.
“But, there’s a part of me that wonders if I’ve seen just how dominant you can be,” I admit candidly. “I know you won’t hurt me, but your need to control is so overwhelming. If this is how you are now, what will you be like when I give into you?”
“Once again, you’re seeing this as a cage, not a way out of the one you’re already in.” I can see the frustration on his face, but his voice remains collected.
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. He turns away from me and grabs my hand, yanking me out into the underground garage.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he states, hauling me toward the waiting black Land Rover.
Hunt remains silent as Banks drives us down Van Ness, staring contemplatively out the window with his chin resting in his palm. I take the time to think and run through everything that just happened in my head. I open my clutch and glide my fingers over the cool, smooth metal, feeling Hunt’s name etched in its hard surface.
Hunt’s does have a nice ring to it. His to do with as he pleases. Mmmm.
My thoughts are suddenly on our last night together, at the dungeon, bound and helpless, his to possess. My reveries are abruptly ripped through by Hunt’s voice. “Are you afraid of me?”
I stare at him with a perplexed expression on my face, though the car is dark, so he doesn’t seem to notice. “Are you serious?”
“Of course, I am.”
“No, Hunt, I’m not afraid of you,” I answer. “I’m afraid that I won’t be a good sub, I won’t please you the way the others did. What if I can’t do it?”
“Then, we go back to the way things were before,” he states in a nonchalant tone. “You did enjoy that, correct?”
“Yes, greatly.”
“That’s what I thought,” he replies, turning his head to stare back out the window. The headlight’s of passing cars occasionally flash across his wounded face.
How could he be upset that I didn’t accept his proposal of submission? He must’ve known I would need time…Maybe he was hoping it would be different this time, hoping our time apart would affect my decision and how quickly I gave it. I want to keep some sense of independence, but I also want to give him all of me, give him everything he desires.
“We’ve arrived, sir,” Banks announces, interrupting my dazed state. I actually forgot he was there.
“Thank you, Banks.” Hunt exits the vehicle, never glancing at me. He walks around to let me out, offering me a hand. I step out and smell the clean, sweet scent of the city after a long rain. I glance up at the massive white Beaux-Arts structure before me and realize we are at the War Memorial Opera House.
I stare at Hunt with a huge grin plastered to my face once I spot the large banner hanging above us.
A Night with Tchaikovsky
He smiles back at me, pleased with himself.
“How did you know I love Tchaikovsky?” I inquire with delighted wonder.
“When I want information,” he says with a seductive tone, “I have my ways of obtaining it.”
“Once again, Hunt, you’ve managed to amaze me. Well played.”
He chortles. “Thank you, gorgeous.”
He bends an arm, offering it to me, and I take it willingly. We walk inside to the enormous lobby with an intricately carved, arched ceiling. The space is packed full of people dressed in their finest. Men in tuxedos and women in long evening gowns, their makeup perfect, every hair in place. The conversation about the vast hall is a dull roar, just loud enough to have to speak directly into each other’s ear.
Hunt leans in and remarks, “I can’t believe how absolutely ravishing you are, tonight.”
I smirk up at him, and he returns the gesture and grabs two flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing server, handing one to me. He holds out his flute and lightly clinks it against mine. I take a sip, scanning the room, when I notice a tall fiery-haired beauty, early thirties perhaps, with alert steel-hued eyes, watching us in a way that makes me feel as if I’m being judged.
She is dressed in a blood red strapless gown with tall black pumps. Her hair is down and swept over one shoulder. She is walking sex with an air of confidence and control that leaves me feeling green.
She smirks this seductive lopsided grin in Hunt’s direction, and I look up to him, expecting the customary ignorant haze that comes over him with other women, but that’s not the case. His eyes are glued to hers with an intense awareness that makes me squirm. He doesn’t smile back or wave, even though it’s evident they know one another. He simply stares with an uncertain look I’ve never seen before. It’s almost as if it were a struggle of power.
After a minute or two of awkward silence, he breaks their staring session and puts his half-hearted focus back on me.
“Gabrielle, will you excuse me for a moment? I’ll be right back.” He sounds distracted, distant.
I peer back over at the flaming red-haired beauty who stares right back with an almost teasing smirk.
“Sure, of course,” I reply, turning my attention back onto Hunt.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, but he’s already walking over to her with purpose. They greet one another, kissing on each cheek, and I feel my blood boil.
Who the hell is she? Why is she kissing my man?
They speak for a few moments, laughing and touching, little touches like the graze of his hand over her bicep, her adjusting Hunt’s tie and gently placing a hand on his broad shoulder. She links her arm with his as they speak, standing a little too close. She giggles flirtatiously at something he says, playing with her necklace, and tucks a loose chunk of ruby hair out of her face.
They turn to me abruptly, smiling and talking, clearly about me, but her fake smile doesn’t reach her bright gray eyes. Then, they begin to walk over to me, weaving through the noisy, well-dressed crowd as they drink champagne and mingle.
Are they coming toward me? Oh, no, I don’t think so. I don’t need to meet this woman to know that she is a part of Hunt’s past.
A group of patrons crosses their path, blocking their view of me and causing them to pause and wait. I take the opportunity to make my escape, swiftly meandering about until I can’t see them anymore. I make it to the other side of the large hall when I hear a perplexed female voice. “Ellie?”
I turn around and find Brooke, blue eyes wide with disbelief, standing beside a tall, stunning man with chestnut hair and blue eyes like hers.
“Hey!” I reply, going in for a hug, and sigh with relief. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“Me too,” she replies as we pull away. “Ellie, this is Wade.”
She doesn’t have to say anymore. She had told me all about him during our drunken movie parties. Wade is her Master.
“Hello, Wade, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I extend a hand, and he takes it, shaking firmly.
/> “It’s a pleasure, Ellie.” He smiles at me with a warm, welcoming grin. He really is very attractive, especially when he smiles.
“Who are you here with, sweetie?” Just as she asks this, her eyes drift behind me, widening. I glimpse over my shoulder, spotting Hunt as he scans the room for me, the mystery woman still on his arm. I look back at Brooke who is staring at me with worry on her face.
“Hide me,” I plead. “I don’t want them to see me.”
She shakes her head slowly. “It’s too late.”
I turn and spot them walking toward us. Hunt has a scowl on his face, clearly upset with my disappearing act, or perhaps it’s whom I reappeared next to.
“Ellie, do you know who that is?” Brooke inquires, giving me a worried look.
“No, I ran before he could introduce me, but I know she’s someone from his past.”
“Sweetie, that’s Vanessa, his ex-girlfriend.” What?! “Smile and act like you aren’t bothered by this.”
I muster a grin just as they make it over to us, but I can’t bring myself to turn and face them. Brooke must notice because she pulls me in between her and Wade, placing an arm through mine, showing her support.
“Brooke,” Hunt greets her, politely nodding his head.
“Damian,” she replies with a tone and noticeable annoyance on her face. He seems taken aback by this, his eyes popping open for an instant then returning to a cool gaze that turns on me. “Gabrielle, where have you been?”
I’m not sure if it’s Brooke or the fact that Vanessa’s arm is still locked with his, but I get a surge of courage, and I go with it. I stare down at their entwined limbs, understandably hurt by the sight of them intimately linked.
“I’ve been here with my friends,” I reply with a slightly irritated tone.
He doesn’t seem to like my ‘tude. But, what is he going to do about it? He can’t do anything, and by the time we get back home, he will have cooled.
Damian glances over at Wade, giving him the once-over. He must not know who he is, because he appears unsure of this tall, dark, and handsome man beside me. Jealousy. I do something a tad over the line and shove my arm through Wade’s to get my point across. I glance up at him, and he’s smiling down at me with approval. I think he feels bad for me.