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With a confused glance around the seats, Thane maneuvered himself off the floor, dropping heavily into her empty space. He patted his thigh in question, still playing the role of submissive to her Domme.
Connie sank gracefully to her knees, masking her discomfort as muscles pulled and bruises sang. She pressed her body against his calf, curling her hand around the muscle hidden beneath his pants, and rested her head against his knee with a contented sigh.
“Seems J isn’t the only one with a kitten happy to be on his knee,” Atticus said with obvious satisfaction.
“I’m not entirely sure what’s happening here, sugar,” Thane murmured from above her, his hand naturally falling on her head, his fingers playing with her hair until she almost purred like that happy kitten Att mentioned. “Want to fill me in?”
This was the respite. This was her safe place.
“We do a lot of talking, Thane. I listen to people, I talk to them, and sometimes when I need the words, I can’t find them.” She tilted her head slightly, leaning into those skilled fingers. “When I can’t find my words, it’s easier to let my actions talk for me.”
“What are they saying now?”
Scowling up at him, she ignored the chuckles of her friends. When Liam brought over the drinks she’d ordered, she realized she had everyone she loved—save one—right here where everything had first started.
Braun and Bodie. Jasper and Anarchy. Atticus, Liam, Loki, and now Thane.
Her family, however dysfunctional.
Smiling despite the ache in her cheekbone, she closed her eyes and let the truth surround her. Like Thane’s hand on her hair, it was warm and supportive, a blessing instead of a curse.
“I’m not afraid anymore.”
The End
