Page 101 of One Cut Deeper
Barking joyfully, Sheba races toward the ocean. I pause, watching her through my tears. With the sun in my eyes, he’s only a dark shape, but she runs to him without hesitation. She sits at his feet, thumping her tail frantically.
Lightly, he touches his chest. “Hello, Sheba.”
She jumps up and braces her front paws on him. He obligingly leans down and lets her lick his face while he rubs her head in both of those glorious hands. “Thank you for protecting my kitten.”
You can tell a lot about a man by watching him handle his dog. And by watching how much his dog loves him.
He makes a down gesture with his hand and she immediately drops to all fours, automatically following at his side as he comes up the beach toward me.
Trembling, I wait inside the hut, watching him close the distance. I’m not sure what I should do. What does he want? What doIwant? I’ve dreamed about this moment. I’ve dreamed about running across the sand like her and throwing myself headlong into his embrace without any questions.
But I have questions. A thousand questions. Not to mention about a million hopes and dreams that are either going to crash and burn in an ugly meltdown or shoot to the heavens any moment now.
His hair looks shorter, though maybe that’s just the humidity tightening his curls. He wears loose white cotton pants and a white shirt, unbuttoned so it hangs open across his chest. A frolic of wind flutters the open shirt enough to taunt me with the silver ring in his nipple. I thought he looked damned good in black, but white is maybe even better. It sets off the darker tones of his skin and his black hair perfectly. Sheba brushes past me into the hut and I hear her drinking noisily. My Master thought of everything, even water for his dog.
“Still avoiding my eyes,” he whispers in the same voice he used to woo me from the beginning.
I don’t know what I’ll see, but more, I don’t want him to see the conflicting emotions tearing me up. In a way, I’m protecting him. Until I’m sure how I feel. Ridiculous, really. I left my family and life behind on a whim, got on a plane, stepped off again as a new person, and then traveled by boat and plane and Jeep through the jungles of Belize to reach him.
Heart pounding like a ponderous, heavy drum, I drag my gaze up to his.
He looks at me. Through me. Inside me. To the deepest, secret part of myself that only he has ever touched. He finds the heavy iron door where I locked away the tumult of emotions—my rage, regret, loss, hope and all my agonizing hurt when he left me—and frees it. He revels in my raw emotion, soaking in all that pain and ugliness. He finds the scar he planted on my heart when he left, when I learned the truth about how he was using me.
He makes it bleed anew.
For him. Only for him.
But more, he lets me look inside him too. He bares everything in his dark eyes. His guilt that he risked my life. His shame that he comes to me with blood on his hands. His regret. Because he can’t be the kind and gentle Master all the time. No matter how hard he tries, the monster will demand its freedom. I’ll be the one to bear that pain, to feed his need for suffering. He’ll give me pleasure, yes, and satisfy my need to be hurt, but he still regrets exposing the one he loves to such horrors.
He does love me. I faced his monster and didn’t run away. I dared to cup that beastly face between my palms and love him anyway. And for that alone, he’ll go to the farthest ends of the earth for me.
He drops down on his knees in the sand and his eyes rage with emotion. Fury and regret, guilt and love, and most of all, need. The kind of need that cripples a person, that makes them feel less worthy, less human. The kind of need that consumes you until you’d rather die than never have it again.
My kind of need.
His hand trembles as he reaches up to lightly touch the black-and-blue skin around my eye from where Rusk hit me. “I’m so sorry, Ranay. How can you ever forgive me?”
My Master, on his knees, begging. It’s so wrong, but so right.
“I’m a killer. I can’t change it. But I will never take a contract without telling you. I can’t stop. No matter how much I wish I could be the safe and stable dom you deserve.”
Combing my fingers through his hair, I shake my head. “If you were safe and stable, then you wouldn’t want me as much either.”
“We’re a fucked-up matched pair.” He sighs. “A match made in heaven.”
I smile tremulously. “Amen.”
“I promise to spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. I’ll give you anything you desire. I’ll go down on my knees and beg for you every single night. And it still won’t come close to showing you how much I love you. How much I need you.”
Crying, I reach for him, and he buries his face against my stomach. His shoulders shake and he clutches me so hard, so good, his breath hot through the thin cotton of my dress.
“Ranay,” he groans against me. “I need you so badly. I’ll die without you.”
I stroke my hands over the hot, lean planes of his shoulders, pushing the shirt out of my way. He shrugs it off and leans back enough to look at me. His eyes glimmer in the firelight, shadows and flames dancing in his gaze, but he smiles, revealing that killer dimple. “May I worship you, kitten?”
His hands encase my ankles, his fingers light above the straps of my sandals. Waiting for my consent.
I decide to make him sweat. Just a little. “I don’t know. What does worship entail?”