The Shepherd (The Game 6)

Part of me wondered why I wasn’t boiling, but I knew there was no use. Shit was already in motion; Marcus’s days with us were numbered, and it’d do me no good to get heated.

Lucas lifted a brow at me, silently wondering.

I shrugged and gave him the CliffsNotes.

I didn’t have to worry about Lucas not being on my side. We’d all witnessed our fair share of abusive relationships, and it always struck harder when the victim was a slave or a Little. Whether they regressed or had been mentally groomed, they were often defenseless if the perpetrator was the person who was supposed to be their protector.

It was the whole point of entering a TPE dynamic slowly. The mental aspects, at least. We weren’t fucking around with cuts and bruises here. Mind games and behavioral conditioning left permanent scars if handled poorly.

For that reason, breakups within these dynamics needed to be slow too, in order to give the sub a painless transition out of their mind-set—and I couldn’t imagine Marcus doing the right thing for Corey. I couldn’t see him working with his boy to bring him out of whatever behavior Marcus had imposed.

Even though I wanted to go back home as soon as possible—and even though Lucas was on DM duty—I felt a level of responsibility toward Corey. After excusing myself for a moment, I went outside on the porch, and I called Archie, who was thankfully still awake.

I gave him another set of CliffsNotes, a bit more in-depth about the colossally failed arrangement I’d had so far with Corey, and I explained I wanted to stay until his scene was over, just make sure he landed safely from whatever vulnerable position Marcus had put him in now. And maybe I rambled. I wasn’t in my car on my way to do deliveries, I wasn’t talking to my mother, Peyton, or Genevieve—my usual suspects, in short—I was venting to Archie instead, and it felt fucking good.

In that moment, we had zero kinks between us. He was the man I wanted to take on a million dates, my partner, my boyfriend, my equal.

“Of course you’re worried, love. I would be too,” he said. “Stay as long as you need—I’ll wait up.”

“No—don’t. Go to bed. Kyla won’t exactly let you sleep in.” I smiled despite it all. Despite the clusterfuck. Archie just felt so damn safe, like I could tell him anything and he’d listen.

It went without saying that I wasn’t this open with Ma and my sisters-in-law. They knew about my lifestyle; they didn’t need any details. But Archie was in the thick of it himself, and he was more understanding than most.

“I’m afraid I can’t hear you over the sounds of me putting a kettle on,” he teased.

I laughed and scrubbed at my face. I was exhausted and falling a little bit in love.

“After blimey, that’s the most English thing you’ve ever said,” I replied. My phone buzzed with an incoming message as he chuckled, and I glanced at the display, only to groan. “Now fucking what?”

It was a text from Sloan. Actually, it was two. I guessed he’d accidentally sent the first one before it was finished.

Were you just never g

Where you never gonna tell me about your new boyfried

My new boyfried, huh?

“What’s wrong?” Archie asked.

“Sloan’s drunk texting me.” I shook my head. My buddy abhorred text speak, lack of punctuation, and typos.

“Oh dear.” Archie sounded amused.

A third text popped up.

*Were

I snorted.

“I’mma head back inside, pet,” I said. “Seriously, get some rest. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Is that an order, Master?”

Cheeky little shit.

“It’s a sweet recommendation from your fucking boyfriend,” I retorted with a smirk. “Take it or leave it.”

“Aw…I will leave it. My boyfriend is so bloody adorable that I want to bake him a cake and watch Downton.”

Good Christ. I coughed through a laugh and shook my head. It was his choice. “Fine. I’ll see you later—and I like strawberry cake.”

I wrapped up the call and took a big breath. It was gonna be a while before his reappearance in my life had settled. This level of happiness felt entirely foreign to me.

On my way back inside, I checked my messages again, to find Sloan had tried to blow up my phone with texts.

Maybe you thought I wouldn’t find out but it was there on facebook this morning, his post ended up on your profile.

You think I don’t know who he is

?

You were so fucking angry with him, and I didn’t get it. Youd just met. It was one single night but he hurt you.

Now youre together and you cant even tell me about it? I mean I get it

Weve only been buddies for fifteen years, maybe we’re not there yet

Fuck you

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotions and thoughts that surged forward like a tidal wave within me, but not one of them was anger. Sloan had left his composure and verbal filter at the bottom of a bottle, and I was here for the truth that was tumbling out.