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Once again, I let my mind roll around the last two days. Jaden's been strangely distant—either out early or holed up in his room. He's insisting I stay put, declaring it's for my own protection now that Viper is no longer a threat. He's convinced there’s a contract on my head, which I find hard to swallow—I’m hardly a priority target. Part of me rebels against the idea of being confined, but if I’m being honest, a larger part is strangely at peace with it. This growing impulse to please him is unsettling and throwing me for a loop. I've got enough on my plate, what with my new role on the Pandemonium Eruptus team and all the tech toys I get to play with. My life's a well-oiled machine now, except for the Jaden-shaped wrench thrown in.
He's not too keen on my packed schedule and makes snide remarks about wanting me at his beck and call. I blast them apart as fast as he shoots them at me—I'm nobody's plaything. But still, there's this pull, this infuriating attraction that I can't shake off.
I rummage through my closet, seeking the perfect outfit for tonight's dinner. This bizarre connection we have, it's whispering that he's been doing some soul-searching too, come to some crossroads about me. With Viper gone, I'm half expecting Jaden to show me the door. But then there's the other half—the unknown, the unpredictable.
I can't figure him out. He's a puzzle and my usually reliable instincts are at a loss with him. It's like trying to grasp a shadow—whenever I think I've got a hold of something solid, it slips right through my fingers. The vagueness of details is maddening, yet I've learned that digging deeper only makes them slip further away. He exudes this overpowering Edward Cullen vibe—overprotective, controlling, yet ridiculously better-looking. I pause to muse on the absurdity of comparing a flesh-and-angel to a fictional vampire, but then again, what part of my life isn't bordering on the bizarre now?
Part of me wants to scream at Jaden for his Edward Cullen-like high-handedness, but I'm inexplicably drawn to him, like some character in a twisted fairy tale. Beneath his cool exterior, I sense layers of damage. I've dreamt about it, even dropped into his dreams, I'm sure of it. He's become an all-consuming presence in my thoughts, a tapestry I can't unravel.
We're both observers of life, yet he does it with such subtlety, constantly suggesting I could learn a thing or two from him. One moment, I'm seething, ready to lash out at him, the next, his intensity and command have me dissolving into a puddle of desire and confusion. Grrr, it's as if he holds some mysterious power over my emotions, flipping them on and off at will.
I choose a sleek navy blue kimono dress that flatters my athletic build. I've always been proud of my lean, agile body—perfect for track and dance. But around guys, my confidence wavers. I remember the cruel jibes in high school, the 'Twiggy' taunts, and worse, the derogatory remarks about how much I looked and acted like a boy. They were a warm-up for what would follow as I entered young adulthood when men labeled me a 'dead fish' or an 'ice queen.' But Jaden's different. He doesn't want me to move, to touch. Just to be still while he plays. It leaves me tense and unsure. Does he even like me? Our link offers more riddles than answers. Grrr, why can't he just be straightforward?
I slide into the dress, appreciating how it gives the illusion of curves. I tug on black silk stockings, glancing at my slender legs. I allow myself a brief moment of self-pity, wishing nature had been more generous in certain areas. But then, I shrug it off. Can't change what I am. Jaden claims he doesn't have a 'type,' but I suspect he's a boob man. Yet, when I called him out, he just brushed it off. "I don’t have a type." Typical Jaden, always keeping me guessing. When I call him out on that particular behavior pattern, he grins like he’s just won an Oscar.
I let out another sigh, examining myself with a mix of reluctant acceptance and growing confidence. The reflection shows a woman who's not a conventional beauty, but there's a unique allure in the symmetry of her features, something my therapist drilled into me until I believed it. Reflecting on Jaden's words, I recall our conversations about my self-image. He's consistently challenging the negative narrative I've internalized over the years.
Jaden, in his uniquely cryptic way, insists that I'm far from ugly, pushing against the detrimental beliefs I've held about myself. It's a rare moment when he steps out of his usual guarded demeanor to offer genuine reassurance. It's not a direct compliment, but the clinical analysis coming from Jaden is as close as it gets. His words linger in my mind, a contrast to the usual silence and mystery that shroud his interactions. This acknowledgment from him, subtle as it may be, is a significant departure from the indifference he often projects.
My gaze lingers on my reflection. Curly black hair falls around an ambiguous oval or round face, set with wide, expressive chestnut brown eyes filled with a blend of anxiety and excitement. Everything's proportionate, right down to my cute nose. But it's my full lips that deviate from conventional beauty standards, setting me apart. Lips that led to more jeering in high school about “flapper” lips.
I trace a finger down my arm, mimicking Jaden's touch, acknowledging my skin's rich brown tone. It's a part of me Jaden seems fascinated with, a stark contrast to the societal biases I've encountered. Angel Bob's advice resonates in my head, reminding me to focus on Jaden's actions rather than his words. Despite the struggles of accepting my skin color in a world that often favors lighter shades, I'm learning to see its beauty, thanks to Jaden's unspoken admiration.
I shake off the introspection. I have to hurry. Jaden's impatience is evident through our connection. He's summoned me for dinner, mentioning that we have important matters to discuss. His usual impatience is evident, and I can almost feel him on the brink of coming to fetch me himself.
As I enter the dining room, Jaden's mouth quirks up slightly—the only clue I have that he's either happy to see me or approves of what I'm wearing. It's a subtle expression, easy to miss if I weren't so attuned to his every move. These little things, these rare glimpses into his guarded persona, keep me intrigued and tethered to him despite the whirlwind of emotions he stirs within me.
I stride into the private dining room, heart pounding with anticipation and dread. Jaden's presence dominates the space. He offers me a glass of wine, and I take it, my hand trembling slightly.
Every single signal coming through our link screams of being uptight, laced with desire. His gaze is intense and unyielding as he studies me. "Let's discuss how we will make our time together work." No small talk. He leaps directly to the point. His voice is steady, but there's an undercurrent of something more, a depth I can't quite discern through our bond.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "Where do you see this thing happening between us going?" His question catches me off guard, and for a moment, I'm lost in the depth of his bronze eyes. Is he talking about the other night?
"I . . . I haven't really thought about it." My voice is barely above a whisper, uncharacteristically. Something about this man, in these moments, hinders my ability to articulate.
He leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin. "Little Dragon.” A warning edge to his voice sends shivers down my spine.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. I can feel his eyes on me, searching, probing. "Okay, that's not entirely true.” I finally concede and meet his gaze head-on. "I think we can be friends."
Jaden's expression shifts, a flicker of something like hope crossing his face. "Friends," he echoes, and for a moment, I see a vulnerability in his eyes that he quickly masks.
The tension in the room is apparent, and I’m drawn to him despite my better judgment. "You'll teach me how to have amazing sex." The words drop from my mouth, surprising me with their boldness.
Jaden's eyes light up, a spark of excitement igniting within him. "I'll show you how to have exceptional sex." He corrects me, his voice laced with a promise that sends a thrill through my body. “Where do you want to start?” No hesitation. He’s been thinking about this.
I bite my lip, unsure of what comes next. Wishing like hell I had more experience with men. “What do you mean, where?" More words tumble out before I can stop them.
He leans in, his gaze intense and unwavering. "I mean, where do you want to begin exploring?" His question hangs in the air, loaded with possibilities. "Physically, emotionally, the places you've always wanted to go but never dared. I can take you there, but only if you're willing to trust me."
My heart races at his proposition, a mix of fear and curiosity. "I . . . I don't know. I've never thought about it like that.” I hate it when his questions show my lack of experience but stutter the words out. My gaze drifts momentarily to “Cuffed, Tied and Satisfied,” a book on BDSM that I've been studying, trying to understand this world I’m working in.
His smile is a challenge and an invitation all in one. "We'll start wherever you're comfortable,” he says. I can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of discovering this new side of myself with him. Letting go and exploring the unknown with Jaden terrifies and exhilarates me. It’s one thing to read about it in a book, quite another to live it.
Jaden's approach to sex is like navigating the maze in the movie “The Shining,” each turn revealing a new layer of complexity. I've read enough to know that his behavior deviates from the typical male bravado. He's cautious, needs time to prepare, and dislikes surprises in the bedroom. But what's more perplexing is the sense of a deeper wound in him, a shadow lurking in his past. I'm haunted by dreams that hint at his trauma, yet the details elude me. Maybe it's a mercy that I can't remember; Jaden is nowhere near ready to confront his demons. He's like a fortress, resilient in his own way, but unlike me—who dives in once I find solid ground—he treads carefully, always testing the waters.
His throat-clearing snaps me back to the present. I realize how important it is for Jaden to feel seen, to know that I'm here with him, even when he pushes me away. "Well, I suppose we can start with some bondage and light flogging. Sort of dip my toe in the water.” I try to gauge his reaction. His expression shifts, so I quickly add, "After signing the contract and all that."
"There won't be a contract, and we'll use the stoplight safe words recommended by the club. Keeps things simple.” His tone is edged with steel, leaving no room for argument.
