To Command And Collar

can get to sleep. Why not me?

Maybe I should have talked to someone. She hadn’t told Linda about Lord Greville or about the fight. She’d fended Gabi off too, saying she wasn’t ready to discuss anything yet. There would be time later since as an FBI victim specialist, Gabi would be here every day until the kidnapped women went home.

Kim wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling hollow. Empty. After this was over, would there be anything left of her? I need to move, to do something. She slid out of the bed, her hospital gown flapping, but at least the ER nurses had given her matching pajama bottoms. She wouldn’t forget their little kindnesses.

Only slightly dizzy, she walked the halls, holding the railing along the walls. The scents varied as she moved past the doors: disinfectant, sickness, excrement. Her muscles tired; her feet started to drag. Go back to bed, she told herself.

But the numbers were familiar, and then she knew. She’d thought she was wandering at random, but… somehow she ended up at Master R’s room.

As she peeked in, her heart did a slow tumble. Not everything inside her was hollow.

He was still awake, scowling at a small dish on the tray table. A middle-of-the-night snack?

“Do you need help eating?” she asked, walking over.

“What kind of a meal is Jell-O? And it’s green. Food shouldn’t be green.” He frowned at her, his eyes turning intent, although his voice stayed easy. “A beer would be more welcome. Come here, gatita.” He held his hand out.

She put her fingers in his, feeling the calluses, the careful strength. But seeing him didn’t help. Nothing would help her, she realized, and tried to pull back. “You need sleep.”

“And you should be in your bed as well.” He smiled at her. “Put the side rail down and sit beside me.”

“No. It’ll hurt you.”

“Now, sumisita.”

God, when he used that tone, sometimes-rarely-she could disobey him. Not today.

As she slid the rail down, he lowered the head of the bed, then took her forearm and pulled her to sit on the edge. She knew moving and being jostled must hurt him, but nothing showed on his face.

“All right, I’m here. Are you happy?” Sitting stiffly upright, she scowled at him.

“Not yet. Galen said you told him what had happened. Did you tell him how you felt as well?”

She tried to rise, and his grip tightened. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you will.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “As will I, and then we’ll hold each other.”

“No.”

His chin tilted up slightly, and she discovered she’d used up all the defiance in her soul. Her gaze dropped.

“Bueno. I’ll begin. When you said the person in the room was Greville, I was angry. And scared that we’d been set up.”

He’d never shown any of that. She looked up. “Really?”

“I was very afraid, Kimberly.” His fingers curled around her hand, and his thumb stroked circles on the back. “And you? You didn’t seem angry,” he prompted after a second of silence.

“I-I was so”-her eyes filled as the memory swamped her-“so scared. I knew I’d die.”

His eyes narrowed. “You thought I’d leave you?”

The trembling spread until she could feel the whole bed shake. “I knew he’d make you go. He wouldn’t give you a choice, and…” And she’d be alone and screaming as she died.

He sighed and pulled her down onto him. She struggled. “No, I’ll hurt you.” He huffed a pained laugh. “If you fight me, yes. I feel stitches popping already.” She froze, staring at the white gauze dressings on his bare chest.

“Lie beside me, gatita.” As she complied, he gave a grunt of satisfaction, settling her with her head in the hollow of his unhurt shoulder. Warmth streamed from him like sunlight, and her coldness receded. Her sigh shuddered her whole body.

“Good.” His big hand stroked her hair; his other arm curled around her back, holding her securely against him. “Gatita, don’t you realize I need you in my arms as much as you need to be here.”

She closed her eyes at the reassurance. “Thank you.”

His low baritone laugh was as intimate as being held. “Now we must talk about what happened so our memories process correctly, no?” He’d had a fascination for her counseling sessions, studying PTSD as if he were a researcher. “My turn. I knew it was all going to hell. I wanted you to run-but you came back. I’ve never been so scared.” He inhaled and growled. “I am very proud of you, sumisita mia, but I intend to beat you for disobeying me.”

She giggled into his shoulder, knowing he’d do no such thing. “I’m very proud of you too, but I should smack you for not letting me fight beside you.”

He grunted. “You did well with the Overseer and the guards. And Greville.”

Her breath hitched. Swinging the heavy lamp, fury and terror filling her, feeling the shattering sensation. The indescribable sound he made, the thump of his body hitting the floor. Her eyes welled with tears, and she let them this time. “I killed him.”

Master R’s hand stroked down her arm. “I know.” Another stroke. “The only choice was his death or ours. Galen says I killed several as well.”

She sniffled, her tears dampening his chest. He was a man. He probably-

“I have killed before, and it’s never grown easier to handle afterward. There will always be a part of you that feels guilty. Blackened.”

“You too?”

His bitter laugh teased her hair. “I’m not God, and killing another is wrong. We will both mourn the deaths we gave and be angry and want to yell at the bastards for forcing us to it.” He nuzzled the top of her head. “And since I am a man, I would appreciate it if you would cry for us both, gatita.”

Wrong. Mourn. Anger. Grief. A sob choked her, and then it all spilled out, just tears after all, in safety with someone who could take comfort from her in return.

* * * *

Sunday afternoon, Kim sat beside the hospital bed and watched Master R’s face as he slept. His color had improved, and the frown had disappeared from his forehead. The nurse had given him a gown this morning, and again, he’d tossed it at the foot of the bed. But this way, Kim could see the bandages on his bare chest. The white gauze showed only a few red splotches rather than being blood-soaked.

She grinned. He’d be growly when he woke and realized the pain meds had knocked him into sleeping again. And he’d blame her, since she’d gotten good at detecting when he was hurting, and cajoling him into using the button. A shame she didn’t have the nerve to push it herself like Master Z would.

Earlier she’d sent Gabi and Marcus home since her so very polite master wouldn’t let himself fall asleep if he had visitors. Obviously he didn’t consider her company. The thought set up a glow inside her. And he slept better if he was holding her hand. She’d pulled away a few times, and he’d awoken within a minute. Some sort of dom radar, maybe.

She slept better beside him too. After returning to the room full of women, she’d spent a sleepless night and sneaked back here before dawn. Master R had been reading. She’d pulled up a chair and rested her head beside his hand…just for a second…and had woken up a couple of hours later when Cullen and Andrea arrived. He’d been sleeping too, his fingers tangled in her hair.

God, she loved him.

He’d risked his life for hers. “Run,” he’d said and taken on everyone to let her get away. He could have let Lord Greville have her, but he wouldn’t. Not her master.

Master. Dammit. Every time she thought about staying-if he even wanted her to stay- the word bubbled up inside her with its sweet, terrifying sound. Master. And she was a slave.

Only he’d said she wasn’t. Submissive. She still didn’t want him to take her decisions away, to control her. Why didn’t I ever ask him what he wanted from a…person? A lover? Would he be happy