Page 166 of Black Light: Cured

making it a package deal. If they didn’t accept you, then I wouldn’t accept them.”

“But it’s been weeks. I—”

“Not because I wanted it that way. They took time to make the decision. So, I stayed in Dallas and

trained in Shibari, spending every waking moment I could learning various techniques to show you

I’m committed to your needs, your wants, and your desires. I know it’s not enough but—”

My heart thumps wildly in my chest, threatening to burst out. I know Aiden well enough to know

that this isn’t easy for him. Admitting he’s wrong is like pulling teeth with no local anesthetic, and

probably just as painful. To do this in front of everyone… that tells me he’s serious. Everything he’s

said is sinking in slowly, compiling and combining into an amazing gesture that I never dreamed he

was capable of.

Unable to listen anymore, I rush to him and wrap my arms around his waist. His mouth descends

on mine in a clash of teeth, lips, and tongue. We both pour out our emotions, our frustrations, our

anger into the kiss. Longing zings through my body as he engulfs me in his arms, fusing the cracks of

my shattered heart.

I know things aren’t fixed between us, not by a long shot, but it’s a step in the right direction. Just

having him here takes some of the sting of his absence away, but I know more healing will be

required, and it will be possible if he’s beside me. Pulling away, I stare up at him, all the old hurts

swirling in my mind for a moment. It’s so hard to not be afraid.

“What does this mean for us?”

His lips quirk up into a sheepish grin. “Well, I was hoping you’d say yes to moving to Dallas with

me. But more than that…” He pulls away and reaches for the doctor’s bag he always seems to have

with him. “I was hoping to convince you to be my collared submissive.”

The collar he pulls out is silver, shiny, one of the eternity bands I’ve eyed for years. Hanging from

the front is a simple O-ring, but attached to that is a charm of the Staff of Aesculapius, the intertwining

of the snake and branch. It’s the symbol of medicine, a symbol that called to me when I took the

Hippocratic Oath as a massage therapist.

Reaching out, my fingers graze the smooth surface as I stare down at it. “Are you sure?”

“About the collar or the symbol?” His tone is a touch lighter, but there’s still a hint of hesitation in

his voice, as if my answer alone will break him.

“Both? I mean, are you actually committed to me in this way? You realize if I’m wearing your