by Mayburn, Ann
From the foyer she heard Yuki talking to someone on the phone and caught snippets of a conversation about Yuki not giving a shit if someone was ready, that he was needed here, now. Michelle vaguely wondered if Yuki was calling her dad like she’d threatened, but she found she really didn’t care. It didn’t matter what happened to her anymore. She’d deceived the man she loved and deserved every moment of agony she got. No matter how hard she tried, she was never good enough, perfect enough. First with Owen, then with all the people she hadn’t been able to save during the war, and now with Wyatt. She found herself thinking a lot lately about the men and women she’d lost during surgery over in Afghanistan, wondering if she’d been just a little more skilled, tried just a little bit harder, could she have saved them?
The scent of blood filled her nose and she was transported back in time, up to her elbows inside a wounded Marine’s guts while she tried to frantically find where the bleeding was coming from. It was the Marine who had looked like Owen. In her mind that man became Owen and she was caught up again in a vision of such realism, such intensity that she wasn’t sitting in her kitchen in Austin anymore, she was back on the battlefield. She could smell the operating room, smell the blood and her own fear as she tried with everything she had to keep that man alive. On his finger had been a gold wedding band and she couldn’t help but think of the family who now grieved because she couldn’t find and repair his artery in time, couldn’t stop the bleeding, couldn’t save him. She failed, over and over again, no matter how hard she tried, no matter what she did to try and make things right, she failed.
“Michelle!”
Startled, she jerked hard enough that the soup went spilling over the table and onto her lap, soaking into the towel she still wore. The dogs scrambled away, then gave the spilled soup dripping onto the floor an interested sniff before looking at her.
Her voice came thick with unshed tears as she said, “Go ahead, Tuba and Mud, have at it.”
Yuki turned her and made Michelle look into her eyes. “You’re scaring the fuck out of me.”
“What?”
“I’ve been talking to you for like the past three minutes and you haven’t heard a damn word I said. You just kept staring off into space like a fucking zombie. Michelle, you have to snap out of this.” Yuki’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, honey, please just hold on.”
She reached up and brushed a tear from Yuki’s face. “Poor Yuki, you always have to try to put me back together again, don’t you? I’m sorry I can never stay whole. You should stop trying.”
“I will never, ever give up on you.” She shook Michelle hard enough that her teeth clacked together. “I love you, you stupid bitch.”
Michelle bit her tongue and the pain helped clear through the fog of her depression like a beam of light from a lighthouse piercing through the fog. “Ow. Take it easy.”
“No, I’m done taking it easy. I’ve let you have your space, let you wallow in your own filth, but that shit is done. You are going to go upstairs and get dressed, then you’re coming with me to the stables and we are going for a ride together.”
The thought of going to all that effort drained Michelle’s energy. “I’m tired, Yuki, can we do this after I take a nap?”
“No, no more naps. Your horses miss you, and god knows, your dogs need to do something other than watch you cry.”
She shot a guilty look at Mud and Tuba who were indeed watching her closely. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Yuki’s phone rang and she tugged it out of the hidden pocket of her dress and glanced at the screen. “Hold on a second.”
“I’m going to go upstairs and change.”
Yuki gave her a distracted nod and Michelle left the kitchen, her thoughts disconnected from her body as she trudged up to her room and went through the motions of getting dressed. When she put on her jeans she frowned at how loose they were. Looking in the mirror she was shocked to see how almost skeletal she appeared. While she’d never been curvy, now she was frail looking, starved even, and Yuki was right, she could count her ribs.
Looking away from the damning evidence of her self-destruction in the mirror she pulled on a t-shirt and some boots before returning to the kitchen. It took everything she had not to crawl into her bed, hide beneath the covers, and fall back asleep so she could dream of Wyatt. Tears filled her eyes and she had to stop on the stairs and take a seat before she fell down them. Wrapping her arms around herself she tried to muffle the sounds of her crying, but soon Yuki’s familiar scent filled her as the other woman hugged her.
“Oh, Yuki, I miss him so much.”
“I know you do, but you can’t keep punishing yourself like this. If Wyatt saw you like this how do you think that would make him feel?”
“He wouldn’t like it, but it doesn’t matter. He’s with Daniella now.”
“You don’t know that. So you saw a fucking picture of them together, big deal. You and I both know how the media likes to spin a good story without an ounce of truth to back it up. Remember when I was allegedly dating my dad’s business rival because we had our clothes cleaned at the same dry cleaner? Or how about that time your mom was convinced you got married in Vegas after some tabloid published pictures of a chick that looked nothing like you, in grainy photos, getting married to some athlete by Elvis. You weren’t even in the country when that happened.”
She looked up at Yuki. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, but we both know Daniella is better for Wyatt. I’m…I’m glad he’s with her. She’ll treat him better than I ever could.”
“Oh give me a fucking break.” Yuki abruptly stood. “Come on. We’re going riding, then you’re coming home with me. You’re going to stay the night at my place, eat dinner with James and I, then tomorrow we’re going to the BDSM club.”
Panic raced through Michelle at the thought of leaving the house. “No, no I have to stay here.”
“Why?”
“What if…” she licked her lips, realizing how stupid it sounded when she was about it say it out loud, “What if Wyatt comes back while I’m not here and I miss the chance to get him back.”
“Darling, if Wyatt comes back do you really think he’d leave again just because you weren’t home?”
“I can’t take that chance.”
“Walk with me.”
Michelle followed Yuki out of the house, blinking at the bright sunlight. It had been over a week since she’d been outdoors and the fresh air smelled strange to her after being indoors for so long. Mud and Tuba followed them outside, both keeping close to the women and going on guard.
“Mud, Tuba, go play.”
The dogs instantly started to run around them in circles and she normally would have laughed at their antics, but it felt like any type of emotions relating to happiness were missing from her soul. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the muscles of her legs warming as she walked and looked around. When they reached the barn she couldn’t help the tears that gathered in her eyes as she remembered being in here with Wyatt, riding with him to the lake and how damn good it had felt to be with him.
Her black and white piebald horse, Fancy Pants, stuck his nose out of his stall then let out a shrill whinny of greeting when he saw her. Goddess soon popped out from the other side, her creamy white coat gleaming like she’d just been brushed. Michelle had hired a couple of local teens to help her with the horses and it did her heart good to know that her big four legged babies had been well cared for. She went to Goddess first, kissing the mare on her nose and wishing she didn’t feel so dead inside.
“I knew getting you out of the house would help,” Yuki said in a soft voice as she stroked Pant’s forehead.
Michelle nodded and continued to cuddle Goddess. “Thanks, for everything.”
“So are you going to come to the club with me tomorrow?”
“I really don’t want to.”
“I didn’t ask if you wanted to, I asked if you were going to.”
“Why is it s
o important to you that I go?” Anger tightened her voice and Goddess made an uneasy noise. “Do you think I’ll just find some sub to fuck and this will all go away? That I could ever feel for another man what I feel for Wyatt?”
“No, bitch, I don’t think you’re going to go there and fuck some random submissive, though I think it would do you a world of good. I want you to come with me and James so you can remember that you’re still alive.”
Michelle stroked the velvety soft skin of Goddess’ muzzle. “I know I’m alive. If I wasn’t alive I wouldn’t hurt this much. Sometimes I think death would be better than this…this constant agony.”
For a long time Yuki was silent before she finally sighed and said, “Come on, saddle up. If we’re going to have a pity part might as well do it while we exercising the horses. But I don’t want to hear any more bullshit about dying, got me? And you are going to eat, and you are going to come to the club with me even if I have to tie you up and drag you kicking and screaming. Got it?”
“Fine,” Michelle murmured, her thoughts already returning to Wyatt and the never ending cycle of sorrow that consumed her soul.
Chapter 10
Michelle followed Yuki into the club with James at her back. Tonight her friend wore a form fitting red latex dress with her hair slicked back into a bun. James wore a pair of brown leather pants and a shirt that would be gone as soon as they hit the main doors of the club. He followed closely at her heels, almost herding her through the front doors of the BDSM Club. The way he was acting one would think he expected Michelle to bolt at any second. Then again, after the fight she’d put up at being made to leave the house she couldn’t really blame him. She’d been okay up until the point that they wanted her to get into the car, then she’d had a full on panic attack. In her heart she knew it didn’t make any sense, but her mind had insisted that if she left with Yuki and James, Wyatt would come, and since Michelle wasn’t there he’d leave and she would never see him again. Even now her heart raced at the thought that she was missing her chance to see Wyatt again, that she was somehow dooming herself to living forever without him by being weak enough to let Yuki and James talk her into this.
As they went through the security checkpoint and Michelle handed over her purse, she caught the guard staring at her as if there was something puzzling about her. True, she wasn’t wearing any makeup and the black leather dress Yuki had shoved her into was loose – Michelle had lost a lot more weight than she realized – but that didn’t explain the guard’s expression. When she caught his eye and raised an eyebrow he merely smiled and wished her a good night.
“Come on,” Yuki said and grabbed Michelle’s hand, hauling her into the club.
Since it was a Thursday night there was a decent crowd, but it wasn’t packed. When Michelle had come here in the past, before Wyatt had come back into her life, she’d always come on the weekends where she could lose herself in the crowd. Now she felt like she stuck out and she gazed longingly at the bar that ran along the wall to her right, but Yuki had made her promise that she wouldn’t drink. Not that she needed to. Michelle had absolutely no interest in touching a drop of alcohol and this club only allowed one alcoholic drink per person. Even as screwed up as she was she knew that if she started drinking she’d never stop.
The familiar scent of sex, perfume, and a smell she could only describe as humanity filled her, and she waited for that surge of adrenaline that she got whenever she entered a club, but instead she found herself barely able to summon any interest in her surroundings. All she could think about was Wyatt and her last time in a club. The memory of his face as she’d slapped him played over and over in her mind like a broken record.
“Michelle,” James said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the music. “Come on, let’s go sit down.”
She nodded and followed him, aware of people watching them as they made their way through the room to the groupings of couches near the open dungeon area. They got lucky enough to find an empty couch right near the front, but as she looked over the equipment and the people playing on it she felt like she was watching a boring TV show and unable to change the channel. After she sat down, she glanced around for Yuki and realized she wasn’t with them.
“Where’s Yuki?”
James shrugged. “She’s around here somewhere.”
He took a seat on the couch and she sat back, vaguely noting that even the small amount of walking she’d done tonight had sapped her strength. Yuki and James had forced her to eat half a sandwich and some apple slices before they left but instead of digesting the food it almost felt as if her body was rejecting it. She swore she could feel her meal sitting in her stomach like a stone. Lights flashed over her, streams of blue, purple, and red, from the dance floor to their left and she stared down at her hands, watching the patterns the lights made, becoming mesmerized by their path over her flesh.
She had no idea how much time had passed, she’d been too entranced by the lights, but when Yuki took a seat next to her she had to drag her attention away from her hands to look at her friend.
When their eyes met she saw a nervousness in Yuki’s gaze that managed to pierce the fog surrounding her brain.
“Yuki, are you all right?”
“No, but I will be.”
Blinking, Michelle tried to make sense of her friend’s words, but Yuki was looking out at the area in front of the couch with a slightly stunned expression.
Michelle followed the other woman’s line of sight, and when she saw what had caught Yuki’s attention the world crumbled around her, leaving her alone with a man who looked like Wyatt dressed in a pair of black leather pants and a black leather vest with a familiar patch on it.
But it couldn’t be Wyatt. And it certainly couldn’t be Wyatt wearing what looked an awful lot like Petrov’s training patch, a symbol that denoted the wearer had trained with the Master Dom and had received the seal of approval from the House of the Russian Wolf. It was impossible, yet there he stood.
She dragged a deep breath of air into her oxygen-starved lungs.
Then another.
Staggering to her feet, vaguely aware that Yuki and James were helping her stand on her suddenly weak legs, she took a hesitant step forward.
The lights moved over the hard planes of his body, the familiar curve of his lips, and she drank in every inch of him as her heart raced hard enough that she was worried she might pass out before she reached him.
If he was even really here.
She glanced over at Yuki. “Is…is that…?”
“Yes. Go to him, sweetheart. He’s waiting for you.”
“But…how?”
James gave her a gentle push. “Go to him.”
The world took on a surreal feel as she took her first hesitant step towards Wyatt. Deep bass pounded from the speakers of the dance floor, matching the beat of her racing pulse. Her gaze locked on Wyatt, like he was the only point of light in a world filled with darkness. She’d dreamed about this moment, had prayed for it with every ounce of her damaged soul, but now that he was standing before her, wearing Petrov’s patch, her mind tried to make sense of it and just couldn’t.
And he watched her. Oh, God, how he watched her – just like the Alpha male predator he was. As his gaze ran up and down her body his expression remained impassive and she was suddenly ashamed of her physical state, of how much weight she’d lost, and of the lack of effort she’d put into herself. She tried to draw on the core of strength that made her a Mistress, tried to regain the upper hand, tried to be what he wanted her to be, but it was all she could do to take another unsteady step towards him.
He never moved, watching her walk to him on legs as shaky as a newborn colt’s. The narrow heels of her boots wobbled with her next step and she had to pause to steady herself. Wyatt never moved, never stopped watching her, and she wondered if he was even happy to see her, if he even wanted to see her. A horrible thought came to her, that Yuki and James had brought her here to say goodbye to Wyatt. A hot
, stinging sweat broke out over her body and as she closed the distance between them Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest, the impressive bulge of his biceps making her yearn to have that strength wrapped around her again. If she’d withered during their time apart he’d thrived, putting on a good five pounds of muscle, making his already impressive physique now a thing of raw masculine beauty.
She needed to smell him, touch him, taste him, know that he was real and cover herself with him in every way possible.
When she stood about a pace away he held up his hand and what he said next shocked her.
“Kneel.”
Blinking, she took a step forward and he took a step back.
“Wyatt?”
“You do not have my permission to speak. Kneel.”
She was sure she looked ridiculous with her jaw hanging open, but she couldn’t help it. Every inch of Wyatt’s body screamed Dominant, and the way he watched her so carefully, the way he exuded confidence, made her look again at the patch on his vest. When she did, her shock deepened to the point where she could barely remain standing. Petrov had indeed trained Wyatt as a Dom.
The questions almost poured from her lips, but when she looked back into his eyes and found no mercy, no hint of the man she loved, all she could do was drop to her knees in an ungainly move that would have hurt if Wyatt hadn’t reached out at the last moment grab her arms and eased her to the floor.
At the first touch of his hands she wept, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she choked on a broken sob.
For one brief, wonderful moment he caressed her cheek before stepping back, leaving her crying, on her knees, one breath away from begging him to touch her again, to forgive her, to tell her he didn’t hate her.