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Thane hit the pause button on the screen, cutting off the narrator before he could finish the sentence. “In my defense, the plotline is actually quite riveting. It seems to make Connie rest better when she's sick, so I won't complain.”
“Hmmm. Does she know you're going to cuff and collar her?”
“No.”
Reaching in his back pocket, Atticus drew out a swath of material, dangling it over the desk. “And this? Does she know you want to use this? Because her hard limit list states no—”
“Blindfolds, yes. Drop it, Att. Just let me do what I feel is best—I haven't let her down yet, have I?”
“No. Honestly, you've gotten further with her than I expected. She's lost some of those rough edges. She almost resembles the woman we lost months ago, which is miraculous in itself. I was giving up hope we'd ever get her back.” Atticus sighed and laid the blindfold on top of the cuffs. “Braun made the announcement for you and Saul, welcoming you both as Masters. He made your excuses, but I think most of the club saw the incident with Connie, so they understand. You might get mobbed when you leave here—there are more than a few members who want to congratulate you.”
“I'm not sure how long we'll be in here. The last time she had a migraine, she was down for hours. Of course, she was hungover then, which probably didn't help matters.” Thane picked up the blindfold, ran the silky material through his fingers. “I hate that she suffers with the fucking things. I thought I might drag her to the doctor, see if there's anything more they can do. Something preventative?”
Atticus slid his eyes over to the couch, his face softening. “Do you know, I've had the pleasure of having her in my life for a decade? Ten years. In all that time, she's grown from a timid, fledgling Domme into the tiger she is now. I've watched the journey, lived it with her. She's remarkable, Thane. Doesn't matter how much shit gets thrown at her, she doesn't let it stick—or so I thought. Turns out, she's been hoarding it. Bodie getting hurt was the beginning of the downward spiral. The clusterfuck with Archie was the nail in the coffin, I think. She's strong, she just needs someone to lean on and care for her when she'd rather hide the shit away. If you want her to go to the doctor, I'll back you.”
Thane held his hand out, pleased when it was clasped firmly. “I'll hold you to that, Atticus, when she's kicking and screaming all the way there.”
***
Chapter Fifteen
Ugh.
Connie hated the sore throat the meds left her with, every damn time. She hated the heaviness and the low-grade nausea. Lifting her hands to her face, she rubbed her eyes and took several long moments to appreciate the absence of pain. Blessed silence. No pounding, no throbbing, no desire to drill holes in her skull to relieve the pressure.
“Here, sugar. Drink this.”
When she opened her eyes, Thane smiled at her indulgently and wiggled a bottle of water in front of her. She'd almost expected the sexy asshole to have washed his hands of her after she'd all but spit in his face. Oh, and run. Couldn't forget the running, could she? She reached for it, then stared at her wrist in confusion. No wonder her arm felt heavy, there was a goddamn cuff circling her wrist.
And a matching one on the opposite limb.
“Thane? What the hell is this?”
“That's Master Thane from here on out, sugar. And these,” he ran a finger over one of the cuffs, “are a symbol that you're mine. After tonight's disaster, I want to give you definite boundaries. When you submit to me outside of the private playroom, you'll wear these.” He gave her a long, steady look. “You'll wear my cuffs and my collar, Constance. Reminders that you're in my hands, and you're safe. No more fucking running.”
She swallowed hard, her mouth drier than the Sahara. Taking the bottle from his hand, she drank deeply. “I'm sorry.”
“You said that more than once,” he said with a shake of his head. “When did the migraine start, Connie?”
Drinking again, she took her time answering, testing the ground before she walked on it. She didn't want to take a wrong step and plummet into a pit. Her eyes found where her teeth had bitten into her arm, feeling loved when she saw the neat square of white gauze taped over the self-inflicted wound. “About the time I apologized. My arm was stinging, and I…I don't know what happened. I just needed to get away. The migraine came out of nowhere, blindsided me.”
He nodded and stroked the hair away from her face. “So, stress and alcohol are two triggers.”
God, she hated that word. Trigger. Like a loaded gun was pointed at her head with someone else's finger just waiting to fire a bullet into her brain and send it haywire. With a moan, she pushed herself into a sitting position and looked around the room. It took a few seconds for her to remember she was in Liam's office. Much like Braun's, only on a smaller scale and a lot less opulent—Liam liked to keep things basic and efficient.
Filing cabinets, desk and chair, couch. Security monitors on the desktop, mini fridge in the corner.
Her dress was tossed over the back of the couch and her boots were placed neatly by the desk, which meant… “Jesus, I'm still naked?” She moved her legs, felt the same tight weight around her ankles as there was on her wrists. “Ankle cuffs?”
“Reminders,” Thane told her. “Think of them as my hands, sugar.”
Connie waved that off. Rubbing her forehead, she jerked as she remembered why they were at Avalon in the first place. She groaned and wiggled her way off the couch, swaying as she stood and reached for her dress. They were going to be late for the announcement if she didn't drag herself out of this post-pain funk.
“Where are you going? Sit down before you fall on your ass.”
“It's the Master's announcement tonight. If I hurry up, we can—”
With a patient smile, Thane rose and set his hands on her shoulders, guiding her to sit back down. He plucked the dress from her uncoordinated fingers, then draped the blanket over her again, making sure she was covered before he spoke. “It's nearly oh-two hundred hours, sugar. The announcement was made hours ago.”
