Page 81 of One Cut Deeper
“Hi, Miss Killian. What can I do for you?”
“I have something strange going on that I thought you should know about.”
Immediately, I can feel her intensity ratchet up. “Absolutely. What is it?”
I tell her about the two notes through the BDSM group.
“And you don’t think these came from Charlie?”
“I know they’re not.”
“Why?”
“He always called me kitten, not pet. And it doesn’t sound like him.”
“What do you mean?”
I hesitate, trying to think of a way to explain without getting into some of the darker shit I haven’t admitted to them. “Can you keep this between us? Or will you have to tell Rusk?”
“I’ll do my best to keep everything you tell me confidential and needs-only. He’s my partner, but as a woman, I understand things he never will. I’ll protect your privacy as much as possible, Miss Killian. I swear that to you. Is it because he’s a man? Or something more?”
“Honestly? He gives me the creeps.”
“When you knocked your chair over, what upset you?”
“He made me look into his eyes,” I answer, shivering. “Even knowing what I am. Or rather, because he knows what I am, he made me look.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why that upset you.”
“I think it’s probably safe to say that most submissives don’t engage in direct eye contact with a dominant without deliberate thought. Eye contact is a challenge. We might look a prospective dominant in the eye briefly, to indicate interest, but then quickly look away. It’s respect, and it’s also a protection, at least for me. Looking people in the eye constantly is hard for me, especially with strangers or people I don’t like. It makes me feel exposed and vulnerable, though I’ve learned to adapt enough to deal with the public for my job.”
“I notice you do tend to control your eye contact way more than most witnesses I’ve interviewed.”
“I can’t lie. At all. Not if you see my eyes. More, I can’t hide. I can’t keep my secrets. Everything’s laid bare in my eyes, no matter how hard I try to keep it buried. So for him to deliberately make me look into his eyes…”
“He was trying to get into your head,” Matheson says grimly.
“Yeah. It was invasive. I didn’t like it. He’s not my dominant and I don’t have to give him anything.”
“Wait, you think he’s a dominant? Like Charlie?”
I hesitate, trying to find the best way to explain it. “Let’s just say he has some of those characteristics, but I’d never willingly play a scene with him.”
“Not attracted to him?”
“That has nothing to do with it, at least for me. I find more things attractive than how a guy looks. He’s okay in that department but nothing that necessarily screams at me for attention. But as a dominant? No way.”
“Why? Help me understand. I think it’ll help me work with him better as a partner.”
“There’s no trust with him. No safety. No respect. He doesn’t respect procedures, right? He doesn’t respect you as his partner. That’s very apparent even though I’ve only seen you interact once.”
“Yeah.” She draws the word out. “Working with women in general is a problem for him. It’s been noted in his file.”
“So now take that general lack of respect and multiply it by a million. That’s how bad it’d be for a submissive to give herself to him. Because he doesn’t respect her in the first place, let alone feel any gratitude for her gift to him. In his mind, it’s his due. Every woman ought to duck her head and scurry to do his will.”
“The hell I will,” Matheson growls.
“Don’t let him touch me again. Please. Don’t leave me alone with him. I don’t want him anywhere near me if I can help it.”