Page 98 of Lennox Lane

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, I meant it when I said I’d let you help. I got scared of bringing harm your way,” she let him know.

Lennox pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “I know.”

Her fingers tightened around his. “Don’t leave.”

The words were so quiet he almost thought he imagined them as Lennox closed his eyes, breathing through the words that dared to expose his vulnerability.

“I’m not going anywhere; I need you,” he whispered in her ear.

She nodded once, small against the pillow. He held her until her breathing evened out, then waited another few minutes before speaking.

“Lavender?”

“Hmm?”

“When our schedules wind down, you willing to take a little weekend trip with me?” He asked.

Her body shifted slightly. “Where?”

“Winston Hills.”

She turned enough to look back at him. “Why?”

“I’ve got a friend I want you to meet,” he replied.

Suspicion appeared in her eyes. “What kind of friend?”

He smiled faintly. “Calla Black. She’s also known as The Black Dahlia.”

Lane blinked. “That sounds like either a perfume, a threat, or a woman with excellent posture.”

“All three, actually.”

“What does she do?” Lane inquired.

“She’s a dominatrix.”

Lane went still for half a second before she turned a little more in his arms. “Excuse me?”

“She’s a performer in her own way,” Lennox said. “She commands any space she enters with ease. She knows how to walk into a room and make it hers.”

Lane stared at him, unsure of what to think, but she asked anyway, “And you want me to meet a dominatrix in Winston Hills?”

“Yes.”

“Robot.”

“Lavender.”

“Are you trying to tell me something about your hobbies?”

His mouth twitched. “Not tonight. I want you to meet her because I think you’d understand each other,” he said, softer now. “Not because your stories are the same. They’re not, but Calla knows what it means to take control of a room before the room tries to take control of her. She knows what it means to turn power into protection. She knows what it means to be seen as intimidating when really, some part of you just learned early that softness needed security.”

Lane’s face changed. The joke in her eyes dimmed, but it didn’t disappear completely. That was Lane. Even wounded, she kept a blade close.

“She performs?” Lane asked.