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it out and banish it and really get on with her life.
The rush of excitement, of sheer relief, of utter…everything
she’d felt when Coralyn barged through her door wasn’t her
and it wasn’t going to do to keep feeling that way. She needed
to stop this. And for that, she needed to study it. She needed to
know her enemy to know how to defeat her enemy, except that
the adversary wasn’t Coralyn herself. It was Giana’s own
body, her mind, and that cold spot in her chest.
“I know you’re into weird, kinky shit,” Coralyn threw at
her. “When I was looking for that necklace, I saw what was in
your dresser drawers. You want me to take off my pants so you
can freaking belt me across your desk or something? You’re a
sick person, Giana Thompson. The only thing keeping me
quiet, not telling the world who you really are, is the fact that
you could do anything to me. So, it’s my silence and
participation in signing the annulment in exchange for you
leaving me alone. That’s the deal. I’m not taking off my damn
pants.”
“No?” Giana liked a challenge. This had just got vastly
more interesting. She liked Coralyn with a spine much better
than a pleading, mindless, numbed out, exhausted shell of a
being. This just proved she was going to be alright, and Giana
found herself breathing a silent exhale of relief. “Alright, I was
going to reach into the third drawer of my desk, because I do
keep a strap in there, pushed to the back.”
Coralyn’s eyes widened. “Why the fuck would you keep
something like that in there?”
“For emergencies.”
“E-emergencies?”
The look on Coralyn’s face made Giana want to genuinely
