My dreams were lost and confused. And for the first time in a long time, I dreamed of Mexico and hallucinations and hurting other women. Q had cured me of so many broken pieces, but the ghostly memories would always be there, waiting to attack me in times of stress.
I woke around three a.m. to an empty bed and galloping heart.
Q was gone.
Courage was gone.
I was alone.
And terrified.
The warehouse and smoking gun from pulling the trigger on Blonde Angel faded as I clutched the bedspread and reminded myself that the nightmare was in the past. That I was safe and loved and wanted.
Only, Q had made me feel the opposite. Tonight, Q had hurt me more than any whip or spur. And I couldn’t stomach any more distance between us.
I needed him.
He needed me.
This is stupid.
A simple conversation could clear the air. I was willing to do what was necessary, so why wasn’t he? Running my hands over the cold side of his bed, my body craved to slink against his warm form and demand the comfort he’d withheld. I wanted to be touched and rocked to sleep in his masterful embrace. Only then could I find strength to slay my night terrors and be the strong woman Q adored.
Where had he gone? Where had Courage gone?
And why did he leave without a goodbye?
Heart racing, I climbed out of bed and wrapped myself in a fluffy white dressing gown.
Slipping silently from our bedroom, I made my way through the castle, seeking out the two things I needed most.
It took me almost half an hour to find them. They weren’t in the great hall or game room. They weren’t in the kitchen or many lounges.
When I finally did find them, I huddled against the wall, draped in shadows, not wanting to be seen. Because there, on the frost-bitten grass with the moon wrestling with the dawn, was Q.
Courage stood on two legs, his chubby front feet on Q’s knee as he sat on his haunches over the puppy. My lover’s breath puffed in icy curls as he scruffed the puppy behind its pert ears.
I couldn’t hear what he murmured, but his body said all I needed to know.
Q was hurting.
The master of my heart and owner of my soul was in pain.
And I despite my upset and wish that he would talk, I couldn’t remain mad at him.
Instead, I would do everything I could to help.
THE DRIVE HOME was a fucking nightmare.
Courage, the damn puppy, was given prime of place on Tess’s lap while I drove the Aston Martin to the brink of its engine capacity. Frederick, Franco, Suzette, and Angelique had returned the same way they’d arrived—in my helicopter—while Tess and I left the large castle behind, following the curved driveway and hitting the patchwork countryside of rural France.
I’d had the good mind to make Tess fly home with them.
I needed some space to get over my fucking self and find peace again. And I couldn’t do that with Tess silent beside me.
We hadn’t discussed it.
I hadn’t been able to sleep, and at some point in the night, the damn puppy needed to piss. Against my wishes, I’d scooped him up and crept through the sleeping castle. I didn’t want to be swayed by the animal. I didn’t want to fall in love with the breakable body and overly trusting spirit. But in that moment of just man and beast, with frost for company and moon for illumination, I couldn’t stop the thawing in my heart.
And with the thawing and affection for another creature came the awful conclusion that what I’d been trying to convince myself I didn’t need these past few months was more than just a need. It was past rational sense or understanding. It was deeper than that. It was a part of me, and I had no fucking clue how to tell Tess that I was a failure to her. That I’d let her down. Let myself down. And I only had myself to blame.
When we drove past the turn-off to the barn where we’d stopped and fucked before our picnic, Tess huffed softly, lacing her fingers with mine on the gearshift.
I flinched but didn’t tug away. I permitted the contact and even managed to smile while swallowing every agonising thought into my gut.
How did people do this? How did they allow themselves to become so weak and desperate for things they had no right to want? What happened to my cold-hearted bastard self where I needed nothing and no one? Why couldn’t I remain such a beast who was satisfied with pain and pleasure from his esclave? Why did I have to fucking grow up?
The awful questions kept me company the entire drive. Tess remained silent, petting Courage, who’d fallen asleep and snored on her lap.
When we finally arrived home, the day was done and so was I.
Leaving the chateau staff to unload our belongings and place the Aston Martin back in the garage, I launched myself from the car and waited until Tess passed me the dog. I escorted her inside, took a deep breath, and said, “I need some time alone, esclave.” Passing her the puppy, I glanced away. “I love you, but please…let me sort myself out on my own. I don’t want to take this out on you.”
Her chest rose as if preparing for a fight. Her eyes glowed with agony, unable to understand why I wouldn’t let her in.
I wanted to.
Fuck, how I wanted to.
But I couldn’t do it.
Not yet.
Not looking back or paying any attention to the sudden flurry of dog feet hurtling from the lounge, I strode to the staircase and headed down into the gaming room and my fully stocked cellar of expensive whiskey.
I needed to forget.
I needed to drink…
For just a little while.
“DO YOU KNOW what’s going on, Suzette?”