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I rub my jaw. I wish I could attribute Mia’s complete one-eighty on the note alone, but I’m partially to blame, and there’s no denying it. “The day after she received the note, she got it in her head that she was—” I pause, hating the word that’s about to roll off my tongue because it’s not fucking true. “She thought she was broken because she can’t reach climax.” It’s fucking weird talking to someone about this shit, much less a woman, but if there’s anyone that can help, it has to be her. “I tried to help her, but I think it just made it worse.”
Shock covers her face, and she doesn’t respond immediately, taking a few moments to process what I’ve just told her. “I’m surprised she would want to try those kinds of things so soon.” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she thinks through the issue. “Maybe I shouldn’t be though. The two of you were close before she was taken, and she may be wanting to take back the power over her own body.” She nods as if she thinks she’s onto something, and I hang on to every goddamn word she says. “As for her being unable to get there, without speaking to her and knowing more about her experiences, I can’t pinpoint what may be the root of the issue, but from the little bits and pieces I do know, her body may have been reprogrammed, for lack of a better word, to only be able to find release when she’s in pain or afraid. I’ve read about instances of it, and I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if that were the case.”
“You think she can only come if she’s afraid?” I balk at her, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. “Fuck.”
Emerson’s eyes meet mine. “What?”
“She said something last week, but emotions were running high, and I forgot about it until now. Cyrus used to force her to orgasm while he did all kinds of fucked up things.” I don’t know that I ever want to find out the extent of those things because I already want to tear the motherfucker limb from limb. I can’t imagine more information would make my need for blood any less.
Emerson’s eyes fall closed for a moment as she takes a deep breath. I guess even in her line of work, it’s not any easier to hear. “Without speaking to her about it, I can’t give you a one hundred percent sure answer, but if I had to hazard a guess, this would be it.”
Before I can respond, the elevator dings, and Rayne strolls in like he owns the place, his suit as immaculate as it was before he left. I can’t help but wonder how the guy stays so clean considering the shit he and Tommy get up to, but then I suppose his thirst for blood isn’t as strong as my foster brother’s is.
Emerson gives me a kind smile as they leave, but her eyes are just as haunted as I feel. Every time I think we’re making progress, we take three steps backward.
The idea of scaring Mia both makes me sick to my fucking stomach and makes my cock harder than I think it’s ever been. In the years we spent apart, the kind of sex I had was rough, it was brutal, and although it was always consensual, the fear in a woman’s eye when you’re choking them while your cock slams into them and they’re seconds from losing consciousness is fucking intoxicating.
I was more than happy to give all that up for her, but what if I could help her?
I rub my jaw and think through the plan that’s brewing in my mind. I’m fucking hesitant to go through with it, but what if it’s the only way to make her see that she’s not broken?
It only takes a few more seconds for me to make up my mind. This could go terribly wrong, but I have to try.
I won’t have my woman walking around thinking she’s broken, and there’s nothing I won’t try if it means helping her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
MIA
The closer I get to having to leave, the less I’m able to sleep.
I went years without a solid night of rest, and I guess my body is preparing for that eventuality again.
But the balcony has become my sanctuary.
Watching the city below me wake up and start their days, the gradual pick up of traffic, and the voices that carry up the high-rise building.
It’s calming and something I’m going to miss when I’m gone.
I haven’t decided on a day yet, partially because I want to live in blissful ignorance for as long as I can, and partially because I’m not sure when I’ll have the opportunity to slip past security and Ace. I can’t imagine it’s going to be that easy, but Kyle keeps calling, and each time has nausea rolling in my stomach.
Each day he calls but never says anything. It’s got to the point now where I don’t bother with a greeting. It defeats the purpose. He doesn’t want to talk, he wants to scare me into showing myself. I guess he doesn’t realize that I’ve already made up my mind, I’m just biding my time.
I tug the blanket tighter around me and fight against the surge of regret that slams into me whenever I think about how limited my time is.
The thought of leaving Ace breaks my already shattered heart, but I’m not what he needs. He needs someone whole, someone who can give him everything he deserves, because God knows he’s given me so much over the years.
I hope that my leaving can set him free.
A tear falls against my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away. I need to shut off my emotions again. They won’t do me any good when I’m back in hell. I have no idea what Kyle has planned for me or what he wants from me, but I can’t imagine it’s good.
The sound of the door opening startles me, but Ace walks through it wearing nothing but a pair of low-rise sweatpants, his abs and tattoos on display. Not that I’m complaining. The man is ripped. But it does remind me of all the things I can’t have.
Mainly him.
All I’ve ever wanted is him. From the moment I walked into that foster home, he was my everything, and I think that’s the worst part. I got so close. So fucking close. And now I’m going to walk away.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye, but I try not to turn my attention to him.
