Striking a Balance (Thalia Book 2) (The Thalia Series)

by Jennifer Bene

  So here it is: I will never, ever want to be with you.

  I hate you, Marcus. I hate you and your psychopath brother. There is nothing you could do that would make me forgive you. I can’t believe you even think that’s possible. I can’t believe you would even compare yourself to him, to my Master, to the man I chose to leave with, to the man who gave me the choice to be with him. He takes care of me, he’s good to me.

  You raped, beat, and tortured me. I’m glad you haven’t taken another girl, I’m glad you’re not torturing someone like you did with me. I hope you and your brother never do this again.

  You can offer all the money in the world. You can offer a safe word, and whatever other false promises you want to make. But I will never come back to you. I’m spending too much energy already trying to forget you.

  So stop writing to him. Stop trying to reach me. The answer is no, and if anything in your email was true maybe you’ll respect my answer this time.

  - Thalia

  Marcus felt the heat in his face build as he read through the email. She’d used his name, she’d called James her Master. The bitch had used his name. The bitch had the nerve to tell him what to do.

  He roared and grabbed the monitor her email was on and ripped it off the desk. The screen exploded into plastic and smoking wires as he slammed it into the floor, effectively scattering piles of papers. All the papers were about her. That fucking slut.

  He swept his hands across his desk sending papers tumbling into the air and across the floor. “You stupid cunt!” Marcus’ shout tore out of his throat as he kicked another stack of papers, and thrust his hands into his hair. She thought James was taking care of her? James was good to her?

  How many times had she come for him? How many times had she begged for his cock? He had been the one to see her submissive nature, he had been the one to free her from her boring, miserable, vanilla life and show her what she was capable of. Every girl he’d trained had submitted perfectly, and if Anthony hadn’t taken her so damn fast then Thalia would have been no exception. She would have been an obedient little cock slut who would have never dared to write his name, to write to him like that at all, and like hell she would have ever told him to do anything.

  Stop writing to them? Stop trying to reach her?

  If she were in his house he’d whip her bloody for giving commands like that. The fact that James allowed her to speak to another Master in that manner was all the evidence Marcus needed on his weakness.

  He found himself in front of the wall of photos. Thalia’s wide hazel eyes stared out at him, her light brown hair covering her face, then her pushing it back. Her smiling. Her in a dress going to dinner. Her long legs. The curve of her hips. Her delicate shoulders.

  Marcus started tearing them all down. Ripping her traitorous image in half over and over and over.

  He’d given her this life. He had made it possible. He didn’t know how long it would take, but he’d get her back so he could finish her training. Then she’d never forget to show him respect again.

  Chapter Five

  Four Months After the Auction

  James slammed the front door after Thalia walked inside ahead of him. The navy dress clung to her curves in ways that had heads turning all night. Her pale skin was glowing in the can lights in the living area and what he wanted more than anything was to bend her over the table in the kitchen and lose himself in her.

  He couldn’t do that though, he couldn’t keep ignoring their issues. They were going to talk.

  She turned and looked at him for a second. Wide, hazel eyes filled with anxiety, and positively radiating her urge to submit to him. But he didn’t need the submissive Thalia right now, he needed the real her, he needed to talk to her and get real answers. She started to unzip the dress and dropped her eyes from his.

  “Stop. Leave it on, Thalia.” He wasn’t going to think straight if she undressed.

  “But... Master?” Her eyes were up again. Amazing; she could apparently look at him at home, but at dinner she’d been performing a deep investigation of the damn tablecloth. It only irritated him further.

  “Take a seat, I’ll be right back.” He pointed at the sofa and walked away from her before she could respond. He knew her head had to be spinning at the number of rules he’d just told her to ignore. He’d told her to keep the dress on and told her to sit, which meant that if she knelt she was defying him. Testing her obedience was helping him as he walked to the bedroom, taking the edge off his anger. He knew Thalia wanted to sink into her submissive mindset to escape the tension from dinner, but he wasn’t going to let her avoid the discussion they needed to have.

  He stepped into the bedroom and shut the door, starting to pull off the suit he’d been in all day. James kept replaying the miserable dinner they’d had, another spectacular failure in a long string of attempts to have Thalia act normally with him in public. He had thought as she healed physically that she would heal mentally, that he’d finally get to know the feisty girl that had slapped Marcus, broken the back door, screamed and cursed at the bastard to let her go. He had been patient, really, he had been for four months. But he had never wanted a full time sub and Thalia was so close to that – too close for him.

  He groaned as he dropped the shirt onto the floor, stripping off the undershirt. Then he removed the belt and slid his pants over his uncomfortable erection. His cock clearly did not get the memo on his brain’s plans for the evening. He adjusted himself and turned to the stash of comfortable, black, hip-hugging pants he preferred to be in for sessions. He knew it was sending a mixed signal, but he wanted Thalia to know which version of himself was asking the questions.

  The Dominant was asking so she would give the answers, but it was James who needed to hear them because he cared about her. He wanted her, he really did, but he couldn’t have a slave.

  He growled to himself.

  He wanted to kill Marcus. To beat him down for crushing whoever Thalia had been before he ripped her out of her life, and he wanted to shake Thalia until she stepped out of the submissive side for just one night out! One night where they could be a normal couple, one night where he could have her on his arm and treat her like a god damn princess.

  He suppressed a frustrated shout as he thought of how after four months with him she could argue with him at the flat if it came to finishing a chapter in a book, or having her damn coffee in the morning, but if he took her out in public all that fire just went out like he’d dumped water over her.

  He silently hoped that having her at home, keeping her dressed, and on even footing, would be the trick to finally understanding if they were compatible or not.

  Better to rip off the band-aid sooner than later.

  He stepped into the bathroom and noted the flush in his cheeks from his temper. He’d spent most of dinner filling the awkward silence and trying to talk to her. James had repeatedly watched her open her mouth to speak. Then he would watch the thoughts and the frustration and the anxiety flicker over her expressive face, and then she’d stay quiet. She’d managed a few watery smiles, but by the end of the meal his mood was stormy and it had only shut her down further. It didn’t matter if they were at a dive, a nice restaurant, or a local favorite – the results were always the same.

  He looked at himself in the mirror and took a deep, steadying breath. As irritated as he was with her, as much as he wanted to shout at her, he knew it wouldn’t help. He had to let go of his anger so he could figure out why this kept happening. James felt the shift internally before he saw it reflected in the mirror.

  Control. Rigid, self control.

  Trademark of a Dom, and something he’d worked at and developed over the years. He’d never had to use it so much until he met Thalia. She submitted so completely, she wanted him to tell her everything, to give her guidance for every rule and every decision. And he’d done it, for her. He’d done it for months.

  But he couldn’t do it anymore.

  With that resolve in mind he
pushed his hand through his hair, blond strands angling across his forehead as it lay back down. He knew that it wasn’t just his money, his family, or his job, that had women hitting on him at work, at events, and when he traveled. They found him attractive, and he did make the effort to be appealing. He worked out, he took care of himself, he dressed well. But those women didn’t know what he was, what he wanted, what he needed. Thalia did. Thalia could be perfect for him, if he could just get her to find a balance within herself.

  He pushed away from the bathroom counter and walked back to the living room. He found her perched on the very edge of the sofa, her hands gripping the cushion like it was a life raft. He could see the tension in her from the lines of her shoulders to the expanse of skin revealed by the open back of the dress that closed just above her waist.

  “Thalia.” He kept his voice low and direct, the tone that always made her snap to attention. Her face turned to him quickly, her honey brown waves tumbling back over her shoulder. Light caught the intricate platinum necklace that lay close to her neck, resting on the line of her collarbones. To anyone else when they were out it was just a beautiful necklace, but to Thalia it was her reminder that she belonged to him. She’d been the one to ask for something she could wear out with him, the thin leather one she had kept didn’t work with every outfit. Instead of telling her to just leave it off, it was another thing he had relented on.

  For the hundredth time he thought about taking it off her and telling her she was free, that he’d date her but he wasn’t going to be her Master every minute of the damn day.

  Screw the rest of the six months.

  He almost laughed at the absurdity of that. The only way she was leaving was if she chose to leave at the end of the period. He was addicted to her, hopelessly addicted. As much as he thought about sending her off... he couldn’t bring himself to actually do it. Even thinking of it brought up too many conflicting emotions – because he still wanted her, craved her every time he saw her. Even standing in front of her, resolved to have this discussion on her behavior in public, he imagined winding his hand in her silky hair and burying his cock in her sweet mouth. Where he could look down and watch her entire body tense as he thrust hard into her throat and held her there. Hear and feel her moan against his flesh, feel the way she always traced her hands down his thighs. Thalia was his – and that thought alone made him want to keep a collar on her, whether it was the platinum one or the soft, silk lined leather one. To mark her as his. And he’d never wanted that until Thalia.

  Brilliant.

  If he’d thought he was hard before, his little daydream had him aching, and it hadn’t escaped Thalia’s notice. Her eyes were locked at his hips, her cheeks flushed in arousal. The hardest part of this conversation was going to be not caving and fucking her. He drew on his control and pushed back his lust. This was about figuring out what they both needed.

  “Master?” She breathed the word, moving her gaze up his body in a way that made him swallow a groan in his throat. She had no idea how incredibly sexy she was, how her wide eyes and her urge to please and her rare hints of sass undid him under the surface of his control.

  Lock it down, James.

  “What happened tonight?” He asked, not moving towards her. He studied her as she struggled to respond, her hands clenching harder on the cushion, her head bowing.

  “I’m sor-”

  “That’s not an answer, Thalia. Answer me.” He could see the effect his voice was having on her, her urge to please him colliding with whatever the hell was keeping her from acting normally.

  “Master, pl-”

  “Stop it. If I wanted you to beg me, I’d tell you to beg me. Answer me. What happened at the restaurant tonight?” The control slid over him like a favorite jumper. Warm, reassuring, comfortable. A shiver went through her and he knew he’d made the right choice. James wouldn’t get the answers, her Dominant would though.

  “I don’t know, it just happens,” she whispered. Finally, something he could work with.

  “What is ‘it’, Thalia?” he asked calmly. Her hands left the sofa and twisted in her lap, twining and gripping and untangling against the navy fabric that had risen high on her thighs. He didn’t speak. He let the silence stretch. He’d already ordered her to answer him, and he knew she would eventually.

  “It’s... it’s just this panic, Master. All the people, the intensity of being out, and I try so hard to act - to -” she whined, the tension in her voice revealing the difficulty of what she was trying to say, “- to act right for you.”

  “What do you mean to act right for me?” He knew his brows were pulling together in confusion at her answer, and he tried to wipe the expression off his face.

  She was crying when she looked up at him and it felt like a punch in the stomach and made his cock jump at the same time. She was beautiful as her nose turned red and her cheeks flushed, “I know you want me to be - to be normal - to act like myself. And I know I’m failing you, but I am trying.”

  He opened his mouth to talk and turned away from her to re-gather his thoughts. Maybe he’d been asking her to do something she didn’t want to do. He steadied his voice so he wouldn’t color the question with his opinion, “Thalia, does it make you happy to be a slave? Do you want to submit 24/7?”

  Silence stretched again and he turned around to see her in distress, panic rising in her. He could see her breaths growing more rapid, her hands clenching at the hem of her dress and releasing. She was chewing her lower lip so hard he was surprised she hadn’t drawn blood.

  “Thalia. All I ever ask for is honesty, is that what you want? Do you want to be a full-time submissive?” His stomach twisted as he asked. James needed the answer. Even if it meant he lost her, and it became instantly clear that losing her would hurt a lot more than he originally thought. It was by sheer will power he stayed standing and didn’t drop down in front of her to beg her to say no.

  Tears slid down her cheeks as she looked up at him across the room, “Master, I -...” her eyes dropped, and she sounded so submissive again, “I like submitting to you. Please...”

  He wasn’t sure what that answer meant or what she was pleading for. “Answer me.”

  A little frustrated scream came out of her and he almost smiled – almost. That was the Thalia he needed, but that version slipped back under the surface of her submission. “If it’s with you... if it’s you...” She growled a little, balling her fists up next to her thighs, “You know I want to be with you, Master!”

  “That’s not an answer, Thalia.” He took a few steps towards her, making sure to stand far enough back that his urge to touch her wasn’t impossible to ignore. “Look at me.”

  Her hazel eyes met his, and he was so frustrated. All he could see in there was her overwhelming urge to please him. “Please...” She pleaded again and he could feel his temper underneath the control. He pushed it down again.

  “Thalia... bloody hell, I have always been able to read my subs, to know what they want or need... but you’re like a mirror!” He stepped back from her as her mouth dropped open. “You’re trying so hard to want what I want that I can’t even figure out what you need!” James’ voice had started out so calm, but he’d raised it. He took a breath to calm down again.

  “I just, I want you, Master. That’s what I want!” She said it through the start of a sob, and he heard her breathing hitch as he turned away to regroup. He wanted her as well, he really did. But people didn’t always get what they wanted.

  “Then tell me. Do you want to be a full-time submissive?”

  “Master -”

  “Tell me.” He turned to face her and the anxiety in her was reaching the level that always made him worry. Rapid breathing, flushed from the neckline of her dress to her cheekbones, her hands clenched tight into fists. She was going to hyperventilate if he wasn’t careful.

  “Please -”

  James stepped up to her and she leaned back to look up at him. His hands landed on either side of her
on the back of the sofa until his face was only a few inches from hers. She sank into the cushion, instantly submitting to him and he wanted to take her when she looked at him like that. Accepting, and trusting, even as her own mind was likely telling her to run, that he was a predator and she was his prey.

  She never ran.

  “Tell me your answer. Now.” His voice held the edge of his anger, but he was in full control. A tremor went through her and he could see her pulse at her throat, and he wanted to put his mouth there, nip her skin and pin her down.

  Answer first.

  Her mouth opened, and his eyes traced her lips. He said a silent prayer, and then she spoke on a whisper, “I want to be with you, and I want to submit to you. And -” her breathing was quick, and she bit down on her lip again. Before he thought about it he’d cupped her chin and pulled her lip from between her teeth with his thumb.