“I know, grandfather. But thanks for saying it. I love you.”
“And I love you, grandson. I hope you find peace.”
Knife ended the call and stood in the quiet kitchen for a long time, staring out at the valley below.
- - -?- - -
Tuesday drove slowly out of the driveway, and the Maserati’s suspension found every imperfection on the way out. She wanted to fly away, but she didn’t want to make it look like she did.
So she breathed through the impulse with her hands loose on the wheel, letting the car find the way with her foot on the brake for the steep downhill slope.
The gate closed in her rearview mirror, and she pulled onto the road, where she went a little faster.
Her clit pulsed with every bump. Her nipples, still tender and about a thousand degrees, sent sharp jolts of complaint with every shift of fabric. Her asshole throbbed and burned, a deep ache that felt absolutely right.
All of it did, actually, and she held onto every pain he’d inflicted on her body with choice. Uncountable throbbing memories she wanted to hold onto as long as possible.
She turned onto Lee Highway, and she pushed the pedal hard enough the car’s horsepower pressed her into the back of herseat.
And she let herself think.
The day and the night were fighting for space in her head, and neither was winning.
The hiking trail. The waterfalls. The vanishing creek. Raven’s point. The trail mix. Silicone bags. Chicken livers and chicken hearts. Magic on a motorcycle — long sweeping curves Knife leaned the bike nearly sideways on, the wind whipping her clothes.
And then such a simple scene, but he’d taken her apart with nothing but rope, twine, a spreader bar, his belt, and his mind. His voice.
He’d taken her all the way down to nothing. No thoughts. No Tuesday. No wolf. Just sensation, surrender, and the overwhelming relief of not having to be anything at all.
It wasn’t like he was the first Dom who could do that. She’d been in countless scenes that had taken her deep, wrung her out, and left her floating.
But she’d never had both the whole man and then the Dom in the same day. Not like that.
She didn’t know what to do with a man who could do both. Whowasboth. Who apparently hadn’t even had to choose between them, just moved from one to the other like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her wolf was quiet. Not subdued, not sulking, just full. Sated in a way that went beyond the physical. The bitch had surrendered everything last night, completely and without reservation, and she’d woken up this morning still willing.
That’d never happened before. Her wolf trusted people slowly and conditionally, andalwaysheld pieces of herself back. Always watched, always assessed.
Last night, she’d watched him put a needle-toothed clamp on Tuesday’s clit and rolled over to show her belly in submission.
Usually, Tuesday had to shut her wolf up before she could submit, but her wolf was leading the charge with this man.
She made a left turn onto the backroads toward her apartment rather than taking a right turn to the grocery store. Collard greens could wait.
She wasn’t ready to face people yet.
Today, she’d enjoy every pain, big and little. The throbbing, the tenderness of a body that’d been thoroughly used and abused in all the best ways.
She carefully made her way through a circle, watching for idiots to be idiots, and she thought about how strange it was that the world looked exactly the same as it had yesterday morning when she’d driven the other direction, because she felt like an entirely different person.
Chapter 23
Late Wednesday morning, Tuesday stood at her stove, wooden spoon in hand, stirring a big pot of collard greens complete with a large hambone. The kitchen smelled like sautéed onions and garlic, smoky bacon, and the faint bite of red pepper. She put the Worcestershire sauce and apple cider vinegar back in the fridge, and the brown sugar container back on its shelf.
While she loaded the prep dishes into the dishwasher, she decided Knife needed to see this, to know she only had a few hours until she’d find out if she’d made them as good as the restaurant. She’d made careful notes while she cooked, thinking this might be a good recipe to put on her channel, but she really wanted to show it to Knife right now.
She wiped her hands, retrieved her phone, and initiated a video call. Seconds later, she saw his smiling face, hair stilldamp from a shower, wearing a black Rolling Thunder T-shirt that stretched across his chest.
