by Carian Cole
“Yes. I think I can manage that.”
He ruffles my hair like I’m a little dog or a small child. “Good. I’ll be back in about two hours. I’d like it if you have dinner ready when I get back. That’s something I’d like to happen a lot, actually, as part of our arrangement, so if you need any cookbooks or groceries, let me know and I’ll get what you need.”
“Okay. Can you get me a charger for my cell phone?”
“Sure. Anything you need, just let me know.” He takes a few more steps towards the door that leads to the garage and then turns back. “Part of this is me giving you things to do so you don’t fall into a rut. You understand that, right? I’m not just trying to be a dick.”
“Yes. I understand that.”
“And I’m glad you’re interested enough to do some research on a D/s relationship. That means a lot to me. I know we haven’t really talked much about all of it, and that’s my fault. I just want you to be careful about what you read online. Like I said, people have their own reasons for getting involved in this kind of relationship, and I don’t judge what they do if it’s something I’m not into, but a lot of what you see and read could be . . .” He looks up, as if he’s searching for the right words “. . . scary for you, for lack of a better word. I don’t want you to get freaked out thinking I’m going to hang you from the rafters for days, or share you with other men.”
My stomach lurches. “Wait, what?”
“No, I’m not into that. Relax. I’m more into the submission, restraints, emotional boundaries, power, trust . . . that stuff.” He closes the distance between us and puts his hand on the side of my neck, under my hair. The warmth of his fingers feels comforting to me, and eases my fears. “I want us to explore it all together and find what works for us. If you read about something that you want to try, tell me. Or, if you read about something that is a definite no fucking way for you, make a list of those, too. How’s that?”
Nodding, I try to dredge up my voice. “Yes . . . that would be good I think.”
He gives my neck a gentle squeeze. “I guess I wanted to make sure you were going to stick around for a while before we really talked about everything, which is ass-backwards, right?”
Letting out a little laugh, I agree. “Yes, but I understand. This whole situation has been a little unconventional.”
“Do you regret coming here?” A shadow of worry shrouds his face, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that whatever this is between us is important to him. But why do this with me? Surely he has no shortage of women, with his looks and sexual talents. What the hell is he after?
I don’t answer right away because I want him to sweat it out a little. “No, not yet,” I finally say.
“Well, here’s a warning, baby. My goal is to make sure you never regret it. So if you’re gonna run, you better run now.” He pulls me to him, forcing me to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him, then he lets me go and walks away.
“Don’t forget dinner and don’t go through my things,” he reminds me. “And feed the furry, sightless one.”
I’m still standing in the hallway when his motorcycle starts and then roars off out of the driveway, the sound fading as he drives further down the mountain road.
My first impulse is to go to sleep until he comes back. That’s what I’ve been doing for months: sleeping my life away. Waiting for Nick to come back when he never will. Waiting for my own life to just end. But first I wander around the house. I’ve been in such a fog that I haven’t noticed how gorgeous and unique this place is. It’s small, but modern, with an open-concept layout, vaulted ceilings with exposed raw wooden beams like I saw in the bedroom, skylights, and floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, dining room, and master bedroom. Everything is clean and in its place, hinting at his control-freak nature. Native American decor fills almost every room with wolf statues, Indian pottery, dream catchers, wall paintings, and the focal point of the living room—a huge colorful headdress mounted above the fireplace. I’m sure it’s authentic, and I wonder where he got it and if it’s a family heirloom. A huge tapestry hangs from the wall in the foyer with an image of an Native American family on it, real feathers hanging from the corners of the frame. The wraparound couch and accent chair are deep chocolate brown suede with cream throw pillows. A white, thick, faux-fur blanket is folded along the back of the couch. I wish I had noticed that when I was napping the other day because it looks extremely cozy.
Hanging on the wall above his bed is a huge charcoal sketch of a wolf in the snow that is absolutely breathtaking. A sense of peace and comfort envelopes me in this house, and I wish I could stay here forever and never go back to my real life.
I slide open the cabinet in the credenza by the front door, curious to see what may be in there. Inside is an envelope of photos of him holding a baby. As I flip through the photos the baby is getting older, growing into a little girl. She had his eyes, and was incredibly adorable, always smiling. The love that is evident in his eyes around her surprises me and tears my heart to shreds. For some reason, I assumed him to be an uncaring, cold father. My heart hurts for him, now, even more than it did before. I carefully put the pictures back where they were, almost wishing I had never seen them.
“Come on, Sterling,” I say, heading for the kitchen with him at my feet. “Let’s see what kind of dinner I can make.”
CHAPTER 14
VANDAL
THE ROAD IS long and void of many cars, with sprawling views over the various lakes that scatter the mountain. This has always been my favorite road to ride. The turns are perfect, like the curves of a woman, and spaced out just right. The air is clean and crisp and feels good in my lungs. When Gram suggested I buy a “mental vacation house,” I knew this was where I wanted that house to be. As luck would have it, the house I now own had just gone on the market when I started house hunting. Built ten years ago and barely lived in, it had everything I wanted.
Hanging out and playing my acoustic this morning with Tabi fucked me up. Bad. The way she half-closed her eyes and swayed to my music, becoming one with the song and feeling it course through her veins as I do spoke volumes to me. She would be an amazing muse. Hell, she is an amazing muse. That melody I played this morning was everything she’s made me feel pouring out of my soul. Music has always been how I best express myself and she totally felt it. This chick might really get me.
Her willingness to give in scares the shit out of me because the more she lets me do, the more I will want to do, and I want to do a lot. She brats out and resists a little, but I can see in her eyes and feel in her body that she wants everything I’m unleashing upon her. She melts beneath me like butter.
I ride into one of the nearby towns and buy a charger for her cell phone, feeling like an asshole that I basically kidnapped her and took her without any regard to anything she might need. Like clothes, which worked in my favor, but it was still an epic douche maneuver. On my way to the register, I see a display of little angel statues and one is holding a cat, so on a whim I buy it for her. I grab a box of cookies, too.
Pulling out my phone, I log into the portal of my indoor surveillance cameras and find Tabi in the kitchen, holding Sterling, staring into the open refrigerator. Her mouth is moving so I turn up the volume on my cell phone.
“Let’s just order some take-out and tell him we cooked it. Do you think he’ll know?” she’s saying.
I laugh, watching and listening to her. She’s having an entire conversation with the kitten and pretending he’s answering her. A big smile spreads across my face, and I shake my head in amusement as I watch her moving around the room, opening and closing cabinets while having a conversation with my cat. She’s fuckin’ adorable.
I ignore all the emails in the inbox of my phone and log out. I’ll deal with all that shit later.
As I’m putting the stuff I bought into my saddlebag, a pretty girl walks by and tries to get my attention. When I ignore her, she comes over to me.
“Oh my fucking God, are
n’t you Vandal Valentine? From Ashes and Embers?”
“Yup.” I try not to make eye contact with her because female fans can be like psychotic vultures sometimes.
“Holy shit! I love you guys!”
“Thanks.”
“Is this your bike?”
No, I’m stealing it.
“It is.”
“Motorcycles are so fucking sexy. Will you take me for a ride? I would so love that!”
I lower my sunglasses over my eyes before standing to look at her. “Sorry, I’m heading home.”
“Do you live up here? I live right down the road.”
“No, I’m just visiting a friend.”
She forms her big red-lipsticked mouth into a fake pout. “Well, that sucks!”
I mount the bike and nod at her. “I’ll see ya around.”
I ride away quickly before she tries to jump on the back or some other crazy-ass shit. That scene was a harsh reminder that I can’t take Tabi for a ride with me because the same thing could happen if we stopped to get a cold drink or to use the restroom, and I’m not ready for her to know who I am or to subject her to women like the one in the parking lot.
Will I ever be?
I’ve fucked myself into a corner, good. Once our month is up, I have to take her home and I have to get back to my life. Since Asher’s got me on fucking band probation, I’m definitely going to work at the tat shop with Lukas because sitting around doing nothing is just going to invite me to start drinking and partying all over again. There will be no way for me to continue with Tabi in my day-to-day life and not have her find out who I am, and eventually find out that I’m the one who caused the accident, and then she’ll leave.
Unless . . .
Unless I take this to a higher level, and let her live with me and keep her entirely secluded from everyone. Never let her meet my friends or family. Or maybe just let her meet Lukas and Ivy but make them keep their mouths shut about the band and the accident. I would hide her from my public persona and not subject her to the fans, the prying eyes, the photographers, and the rumors. She might actually like that since she acts as if she wants nothing to do with the outside world. She hasn’t mentioned any friends or family that she wants to talk to. I don’t think she has any interest in going back to work or living in that house she shared with her husband.
That could work. She would have to stay willingly, of course. I could sell my house and buy a new one for us, something she likes and that has a lot of theme rooms for us to play in.
The thought of selling my house has crossed my mind several times to escape the memories of living there with Katie. The constant pain of that will continue to eat me alive. In a new house, I could keep Tabi and give her everything she wants and needs, and have her safe and content. I would cherish her like the little doll that she is and she would never want to leave. I could see those big eyes staring up at me every single day, hear her orgasmic screams of pleasure, let her dig her nails into me. We could explore so much of each other. She could be totally mine and I wouldn’t mind being totally hers. At all. My heart pounds against my ribs and my cock grows harder the more I think of how amazing life could be with her. She could make my fantasy a reality.
I’ve basically just devised a plan to keep this woman as a pet.
I’m a sick fuck.
As I walk through the garage door into the kitchen, I’m greeted by her bouncing over to me, a big smile on her face, clapping her hands.
“You’re just in time. Dinner is ready. And I didn’t ruin it!”
Her giddy excitement over non-ruined dinner is cute but also serves as a warning for meals to come. Too bad I can’t get her into a cooking boot camp with Gram.
I kick off my boots and throw them onto the shoe mat by the door. “Is this a new accomplishment for you?” I ask, grinning.
“It is. Nick worked a lot and always came home at odd hours so we kinda lived on frozen dinners most of the time because they were quick and easy to make without any planning.”
“Trust me, I’ve eaten my fair share of frozen pizzas and fast food drive-thrus, but I’d much prefer a real meal whenever possible.”
“You better order some cookbooks then, or else I’ll be making you grilled cheese and soup every day.”
“Is that what I’m eating tonight?”
“No! There was a big package of ground beef in the fridge, some eggs, and bread. And I found all your spices, so I made a meatloaf. I cut up some potatoes and made mash with a little bit of sour cream.”
Smiling at her but with a look of suspicion, I peer into the oven expecting to see a misshapen mass of meat, but it looks perfect.
“I’m impressed, baby. It even smells good. I’m gonna go wash the road off me—why don’t you set the table? I’ll be back in ten.” Realizing I’m still holding the bag of things I bought for her, I hand it over. “These are for you.”
“Oh, my charger? Thank you! My phone finally died last night. I’m going to have to call my mother and best friend to let them know where I am.” She goes to the oven and checks on the meatloaf. “I’ll do that after dinner . . . I don’t want to hear all the lecturing right now.”
I’m a little worried about how those conversations will go and how she’s going to react to them. Is she the type to cave if someone else gets on her shit about something she’s doing? What the hell would she tell them about me? Or, maybe she won’t mention me at all and will lie about her whereabouts.
After a quick shower, I find her at the table, holding the little angel statue with a faraway, almost sad, reflective look on her face.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”
She has tears in her eyes when she looks up at me. Shit. What the fuck did I do wrong now?
“I love it. I kinda collect little things like this . . . but you wouldn’t know that.”
Yes, I do.
“I love the little cat with her. This will always remind me of being here with you and Sterling. Thank you.” She wipes her eyes with her napkin. “And you got me cookies! Are you one of those rare men that actually listen?”
Taking my seat at the table, I grin over at her and slice the meatloaf, place the first slice on my own plate and the second on hers. “I never used to be. I guess I didn’t want you to go into cookie withdrawal.”
Her meatloaf turned out excellent and her mood is considerably better than it’s been before. Her eyes are brighter and she looks more alive. She’s much more animated when she talks to me, too. My own mood is better as well now that I have her to look forward to.
“Can we watch a movie tonight?” she blurts out as she’s clearing the table after dinner.
“A movie?”
“Yeah. I thought we could just sit on the couch together and watch a movie. Don’t you do that?”
“Not usually with a chick. I fuck them and then they go.”
She stops and stares at me as if I’ve grown five heads. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m dead serious.”
I watch her load the dishwasher, clanking the dishes together, glaring daggers at me. “How did you manage to have a child with someone? Were you married? Living together? You must have had some kind of relationship, right?”
Rage boils inside me. Is she seriously judging me? And bringing up my dead daughter?
“That shit is off-limits.” I stand up quickly in anger, banging into the table.
“Why? It’s a normal thing to be talking about.” She slams the door of the dishwasher and crosses her arms, waiting for me to say something.
“Not for me. It was a big clusterfuck, if you have to know. She was just some stripper I met and partied with. I was wasted and sloppy. I never wanted anything else to do with her, and I sure as shit didn’t want to have a kid.” I take a deep breath, hating what I just said. I don’t regret Katie. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. “After the baby was born, I wasn’t allowed to see her, but that bitch dragged me to court to get child support a
nd made sure I didn’t have any visitation because I was too fucked up on drugs and alcohol. It took me three years to get straight and pass enough tests to see my own kid. I had zero relationship with her mother. I hate that bitch.”
Tabi cringes away from me. “I’m sorry I asked,” she says. “I’m just trying to get to know a little about you.”
“Trust me, baby, it ain’t pretty. The more you know, the less you’re gonna like. Be glad you’re in the dark.”
I leave her in the kitchen and sink into the couch, wondering how shit can go so bad so fast. What the fuck?
“Are you going to do that to me, too? Fuck and go? Spank and go?” she asks, stalking into the living room.
That is not a question I can easily answer right now, but I have to or she’ll keep digging at me. She wants to know where she stands, which is only natural. Women like labels, titles, and definition. Unfortunately, I’m so messed up in the head that I really don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’ve acted on crazy impulses, one after the other after the other, and now I’ve got this girl in my life that I know I shouldn’t have, but all I can think about is keeping her. And she’s fucking clueless, getting mind-fucked left and right, giving into dark desires, giving me permission to dominate her in the hope that she’ll get out of the hole of grief she’s in, and find what? What is she hoping for? I don’t know. But let’s be fucking honest here: I’m digging her out of one hole and putting her into another one.
“You can’t even answer me. Fuck you.” She stomps down the hallway and slams the bedroom door. I let her. Going after her is just going to fuel the fire that's burning in both of us right now.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and focus on calming my breathing. I need to regain control of our relationship, and stay in control at all times. She keeps skewing me off, distracting me from my role, and that’s my fault. I took responsibility of her when I brought her here and invited her into this with me. It’s my responsibility to teach her and guide her, protect her. I lean back against the couch and meditate, calmly making a mental list of everything I have learned and need to adhere to. Cherish her. Respect her. Be patient. Stay in control.
