“No,” she said sharply. And then, in a gentler tone. “I want to tell you. I need to say this out loud. You’re right. I need to take away the sting, draw out the poison.”
“Okay,” he said, keeping his face on the road. “Tell me. I’m listening.”
She blew out a breath. “He hauls me to the whipping post or the rack or the restraint hook. He binds my body and my hair with rope. It hurts so much… I’m so afraid…” Her hand flew to her head, her fingers running over her shorn scalp.
She shook her head vehemently. “That’s it. I don’t remember more. Just a feeling of terror. Of helplessness. Sometimes I know I’m dreaming and I try desperately to wake up. If I can only wake up.” Her voice was edged with panic.
“And you do wake up,” Adam said quickly, reaching for her hand and gripping it tight. “You wake up and you recognize that it was just a bad dream. That you’re no longer with that horrible bastard who abused your trust and love. That you’ve made a new life for yourself that he will never be a part of. That you’re brave, strong and free now. Free to love a man who will cherish and protect you.”
“Oh, Adam,” she said in a tremulous voice. “You’re so kind. But I’m afraid… Maybe I’m not so strong anymore. What if I’m… broken?”
“I don’t believe that, Shani,” Adam asserted staunchly. “Not for a second. I’ve watched the way you comport yourself, both in and out of the scene. Yes, I sense you’re scarred, but also that you’re a survivor. And you’re courageous. A lot of people might have turned their backs on BDSM, but you stayed true to yourself. You wouldn’t let him take that away from you.”
“Yes,” she whispered. Then, louder and with more confidence, she asserted, “I couldn’t turn my back on BDSM. It’s too integral a part of me. To cut that out of my life would have been like excising a piece of my soul. I just needed a fresh start. A new job across the country, a new look…”
She was talking now. That was good. She was opening up, bit by bit. Adam needed to find out what had really happened to her, not just in her nightmares. He needed to understand so he could help her heal.
Her words still echoed in his mind: “He binds my body and my hair with rope. It hurts so much… I’m so afraid.”
“I get that,” he said aloud. “A fresh start is good. I think it’s great you were able to do that. But I also get the sense you haven’t yet really been able to put the past behind you. You haven’t yet dealt with the pain, or the man who caused it.”
When she said nothing to this, he plunged on. “Tell me the truth, Shani. Do those nightmares reflect real life? Why do you keep your hair so short? It’s because of him, isn’t it?”
Her hand flew again to her shorn scalp. “Yes,” she admitted in a low, strangled voice.
“That fucking bastard,” Adam swore, gripping the steering wheel hard. “Any man who abuses a woman is a coward and a bully, not to mention a criminal. He violated your trust and the sacred tenets of BDSM.”
He blew out a breath, forcing himself back under control. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to make things worse by losing my temper over this guy. Tell me what happened. Tell me why you felt the need to cut your hair.”
“It was that last time. I had to get away…”
Again the long pause, while Adam gritted his teeth to keep his big mouth shut.
Eventually, she picked up the thread again. “He used my hair during bondage sessions. I had very long hair back then—all my life, in fact. The hair bondage was sexy at first—being restrained in a different way. But toward the end… When I had lost myself, when I’d forgotten who I was, it wasn’t sexy anymore. That last time…” She trailed off again, her hands twisting wildly in her lap, her face a frightened mask of anxiety and pain.
A rush of different emotions clashed in Adam’s brain. Who the hell was he to press this woman, to open wounds that clearly hadn’t healed? At the same time, he recognized that wounds that had been hidden and ignored could never fully heal. Until she could face her pain and sorrow, her wound would continue to fester and chafe in her soul, preventing her from any kind of real recovery.
He pulled the car over onto the shoulder beside a field of yellow and purple wildflowers, though he left the engine running. The early morning clouds had cleared and the sky was a brilliant blue. Shani rolled down her window and inhaled deeply. “I’d forgotten how fresh and clear the air is here. I’ve missed this place. More than I realized.”
Adam unbuckled his seatbelt and reached over, gently turning Shani’s head so she was facing him. Leaning toward her, he took her face in his hands and kissed her lightly on the lips.
Letting her go, he said, “It’s time, Princess. Tell me what happened. Whatever it was, you’re here now. You got away. You’re strong and brave. It’s time to stop giving that man so much power over you. It’s time you kicked the bastard out of your head once and for all.”
The frightened rabbit look fell away as Shani lifted her chin, determination now in her gaze. “You’re right. It’s well past time. I’m ready now. Ready to tell you. Ready to put this behind me, once and for all.”
Chapter 8
Shani shook her head, snorting softly. “It was only one month. One lousy little month that completely changed the trajectory of my life. I let him chase me away from my family and my home. While I’ve been very happy on Desire Island, I can’t deny that my initial motivation was to get away from Sir and Portland, as fast and as far as I could.”
She reached for Adam’s hand, giving it a strong squeeze, her expression resolved, almost fierce. “Okay. I’m going to finish this. It’s good to say it out loud after keeping it secret for so long.” She took another breath, and said, “That last time, something finally snapped in me. The crazy thing is, how long it took me to get there.”
She laughed a bitter laugh. “It’s so easy to see now, with the advantage of time and distance, but while I was in the middle of it, it wasn’t so clear. The man wasn’t a Master. He was an abusive fuck. I think he was terrified of me on some level. Maybe of women in general. And he’d found a way to deal with his fears by dominating submissive women like me who were stupid enough to fall for his outward charm and seductive ways.”
Now that she was talking, it was as if a spigot had been opened, and the words came tumbling out. Adam kept quiet, his eyes fixed on her face.
“The ironic thing was, I’d never had a strong-held fantasy of being in a Master/slave relationship. I adore bondage and erotic pain. I love the theater of submission and being dominated by a strong, confident man.” Her face softened as she met Adam’s gaze. “A man like you,” she said almost shyly, making his heart clutch with tenderness.
“But Sir—” She broke off abruptly with a sharp shake of her head. “No. Not Sir. He doesn’t deserve that title, though he made me call him that. Brandon. That was his name. Brandon Parker. We met at one of those munch things that BDSM groups sometimes put on. He was good looking, in an All-American big beefy blond kind of way, and he was a smooth talker. He invited me to a BDSM club the next weekend, and we hit it off well. He was skilled as a Dom and the scenes were hot and sexy.