Лорел Гамильтон - The Harlequin

«So did Raina,» Richard said, «though not her body, not for the worst of it.»

«I'm told a good dominant in the bondage and submission scene never asks of their sub what they aren't willing to do to their own body.»

«That's the rule,» Richard said, «but we both know that Raina wasn't a good dominant.»

«No,» I said, «she wasn't.»

«The cramping easing?» He made it a question.

«Yeah, how did you know?»

«Your face is smoothing out. You're not clutching as much at your stomach. And I watched Raina work through the same kind of pain, a lot. She said one of the things she liked about me was that I could be as rough as she wanted in exactly the way she wanted it.»

«For future reference, don't ever fuck me this hard in that position again, okay?»

He nodded. «What position do you like?»

I opened my mouth, closed it. Tried to think of how to phrase it. «I don't like it this rough on a nightly basis. After a session even close to this rough, it takes a day or two to feel like doing it again.»

«You'll have to feed the ardeur in a few hours.»

«There are gentler ways to feed it, Richard.»

«Not with Micah there isn't.»

«Well-endowed doesn't mean you can't be gentle, Richard.»

He nodded. «You're right.»

We stared at each other a moment. Something on his face made me say, «Raina really fucked you up, didn't she?»

He nodded. «Yes, she did. When she found out I enjoyed it rough, she wanted to make sure I'd never be able to get my needs met anywhere but with her. She meant to keep me, Anita, and if she hadn't tried to include Gabriel, I might have stayed with her.»

«No, you wouldn't have,» I said.

He gave me sad eyes. «How can you be so sure?»

«Because you're a good person, and if it hadn't been Gabriel it would have been someone or something else. Raina couldn't resist pushing people past their boundaries. She'd have kept pushing until she broke you; it's what she did.»

He nodded and took in a breath deep enough that it rocked his broad shoulders. «I'll clean up in the group showers.»

I wanted him to go, but… He'd tried so hard. He'd actually saved me from Marmee Noir. «You can clean up here.»

He shook his head. «No, I can't.»

The way he said it seemed odd. «Why not?»

«Because I like the idea I hurt you. I like it a lot. I don't trust myself not to hurt you again.»

«I'd say no, Richard. You respect no ?»

He nodded. «But I also know the effect we have on each other. I don't trust myself not to try to seduce you again, so that I can push myself inside you while you're still bleeding from the first time.» He closed his eyes and a shudder ran down him from head to feet. I didn't think it was because he was repulsed by what he wanted to do; no, it was a shudder of anticipation. He was being honest with me, with himself, about what he wanted.

«I like it rough sometimes, Richard, but not that rough. Sorry.»

He nodded and gave me a sad smile. «Raina helped me enjoy intercourse too rough for anyone else. She made Nathaniel like pain in a way that most people wouldn't even survive.»

«I know.»

He shook his head. «No, you don't. You think you know, but you can't imagine it. I saw some of what she taught him to enjoy.»

«He doesn't talk like you ever saw him with her,» I said.

«Blindfolds, earplugs, nose plugs; you can't see, hear, or smell who's in the room. She invited me over once, tried to get me to help her, but torturing was never anything I liked. Raina found that disappointing.»

I swallowed and tried to think of something useful to say; nothing came to mind. «I don't know what to say to that.»

«I don't know why I told you that. Did I want to shock you? Did I want you to think less of Nathaniel? Less of me?» He shook his head and started for the door again.

I was ready for him to leave because I didn't know what to do with the mood he was in, and I really didn't want more sex. The hard cramps had passed, but I was hurting, and would be for a while.

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. «Do you realize that most of the men in your bed are ones that she was with?»

«I hadn't thought about it.»

He turned and looked over his shoulder at me. «Jean-Claude was with her and Gabriel; it was the price she demanded from him. You know she made Jason a werewolf?»

«Yeah.» I'd actually shared that memory with Jason. She'd tied him to a bed and cut him up while she fucked him. She hadn't cared whether he lived or died. I'd been inside her head on the memory, and she hadn't cared. She really was serial-killer material, because her pleasure had meant more to her than Jason's life.

I got a whisper through my head. «Think harder, Anita.»

I shivered, and that made my lower body hurt. «Go, Richard, go, okay?»

«What's wrong?»

«I think I need not to think about her so hard.»

«She talked to you?»

I nodded.

«You think you have her under control, and maybe you do, but you might just think on this. Jean-Claude, me, Jason, Nathaniel, all of us were hers first. Maybe there's a reason you're attracted to her old lovers.» With that very unsettling thought, he left, closing the door behind him. I was happy that Richard was doing therapy; it was helping, honest. The trouble was, he seemed to want me to do therapy with him, and that I wasn't ready for.

I DID A quick cleanup, and then realized I had no clothes in the bathroom. My robe was lying in a heap beside the bed. Great. I wrapped the towel more securely around my hair, then wrapped one of the bigger towels around my body. One of the good things about being short was that the towel covered me from armpits to ankles. The funny thing was that almost no matter who was in the other room, they'd probably seen me nude at least once. I should have just walked out and gotten my clothes out of the armoire and ignored everybody. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. I wasn't that comfortable around my own nudity. There were days when I was pretty sure I'd never be that comfortable.

Worse yet, my gun was outside in the bedroom. My clothes I could live without, but that I'd left my gun in the other room said just how much Richard affected me. He made me forget myself, even the parts of me that almost no one else could drive from my mind. For some reason I just couldn't go out there unarmed, I don't know why. I just couldn't do it. I was still aching all the way up to almost my belly button. The cramping had mostly stopped, but I was feeling stupid and vulnerable. I wanted a gun. It would make me feel better. There, that was the truth. I'd started hiding guns in the places where I spent a lot of time. They were for emergencies. This wasn't an emergency, but… hell with it, it was my gun. If I felt the need, screw it.

I knelt down by the sink and opened the cabinet doors. I had to reach back and up into the plumbing to find it, but there was my Firestar duct-taped among the pipes. There'd been a couple of times when I'd been separated from my carry guns and needed a gun. So I'd given into my paranoia and hidden a few around. The Firestar wasn't my main backup gun anymore, so it lived here as the ultimate hideaway. I brought the gun out into the light and laughed. There was writing on the tape. It read, «Anita's gun,» in Nathaniel's handwriting. He'd been with me the day I did it. Apparently he'd added his own little touch when I wasn't looking. He'd handed me the pieces of tape. Had he written on it then, and I just hadn't noticed, or had he come back later? I'd ask him.

It left me smiling and shaking my head as I took the tape off the gun. I'd have put it in my pocket, if I'd had one. The gun was very visible against the white towel. I tried the grip in my hand, squeezed it a little. A tightness in the center of my body eased. What does it say about your life when a gun makes you feel this much safer?