Page 119 of Serpent & Saviors

Somehow, I’d bruised my thighs and, not only that, but Andrew had caught me. I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t heard him come in, and now, twenty minutes later, his tired and worried face had me gulping.

I still hadn’t gotten used to the strange sensations that churned inside me whenever I let him down. Not that he would tell me he was. I could just pick up on it, as I was right then—letting him down.

“There are other ways of coping with your emotions.”

“I know that too, Sir. My therapist told me that often people who do what I do—”

“Use the word, Tori. Say it.”

“Some people who self-harm, do it to ward off feeling anxious. It typically stems from feeling out of control. It can be from a variety of things, like a situation or a person. A memory. Sometimes even numbness can be a catalyst.”

“And what else?”

“That it’s all about dealing with the emotions and thoughts before your hands hurt yourself and strategies to combat it.”

“And which ones did you and your therapist come up with?” His words were carefully chosen, ever building a bridge that always led me toward a safer shore.

So much of what I was experiencing was new. The scrutiny he gave was never critical, and it was a hard one for me to grasp. Cameron never cared if I marked my skin. One of Andrew’s strong and comforting hands lay draped over the back of the couch. My eyes fixated on it.

His nails were neatly trimmed, and his fingers were strong and capable. Isabella could paint them alone and title it Strength and Safety. I could confidently say in my heart they would never cause me harm, and the internal conflict surged inside me. His question echoed in my mind, and my hands trembled. Once more, I fidgeted with the fabric of my dress.

I drew in a shaky breath. The vulnerability of the moment and my struggles threatened to overwhelm me. “We…we worked on grounding techniques,” I said, my voice a fragile whisper. “Breathing exercises, counting, and sometimes, she suggested focusing on something beautiful or comforting. Maybe musi…can we be done now?”

“Tori,” he breathed, flashing me a patient smile.

“This is really uncomfortable for me,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

A frown formed on his face, and his brow furrowed. He studied me with a depth that seemed to unravel the layers of my soul. A beat of silence hung in the air, and then a sharp intake of breath followed.

“Why is it uncomfortable? I’ve been inside you. I’ve kissed and licked your beautiful pussy. I’ve seen you come apart in my arms in the most beautiful ways. I’ve killed for you. I’m not sure why a simple discussion on your strategies has you shutting down.”

“That’s different.”

“Not really, we’re simply having a conversation. How is this different?”

I shrugged, unsure how to explain it. He was trying so hard, but his patience was thinning with each second that ticked on the grandfather clock. Part of me wondered if subconsciously I was doing this on purpose. Did I want to push him to see how he would react?

“Words, please.”

I sighed. “Sitting here with you like this. It’s like you’re in counselor mode and last night…when we…when you…” My words weren’t wording, which only caused my cheeks to burn with humiliation.

“Got it. So you can be physically intimate with me but emotionally you don’t want me to comment on what I see? That doesn’t work for me, so we aren’t going to do that. I won’t minimize your feelings of uncomfortableness in this situation as it’s clearly real, but I will also remind you I specifically told you I wasn’t going to let it go. I don’t think my request was unreasonable, considering these.”

He pushed my dress up my thigh and reached out. His fingers lightly traced the largest bruise. I stiffened as a wave of incredible shame washed over me.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I stammered, my voice choked with emotion. The admission sounded lame, even to my own ears. If this were Declan, I’d feel exactly how he did.

His touch remained tender. “Angel, it’s a big deal. Talk to me. I only want to help. What triggered this?” Shining in his eyes was an undeniable love, and I wrestled with the urge to retreat.

“I pinch,” I said, giving words to my actions. The admission tasted bitter on my tongue. “When it gets too much, like tonight. I worry about not being enough for you, sometimes for Declan. I pinch to feel something, anything, other than the panic. As stupid as it is, it grounds me. Which is what my therapist wanted me to do: ground myself. Please, I don’t want you to counsel me.”

“Clearly. I’ll take a different approach then.”

My head snapped up. The change in his voice was startling and immediate. He’d mastered every part of me, so as he slipped out of counselor mode and moved smoothly into Dom mode, every part of my body tingled in anticipation. He rose from the couch and took my hand.

“Come.”

As we walked, I couldn’t shake the fear of rejection, the nagging doubt that whispered in the recesses of my mind. Was he going to take me into the playroom and discipline me? My steps were hesitant, and he led me toward the formal living room, a place I’d only ever been in once before.