Two of a Kind (Desire Island 2)

“Agreed. While BDSM is a wonderful, deeply fulfilling lifestyle, it does tend to attract a lot of insecure people who hide behind the guises of Dom and sub to get their needs met, sometimes in a very unhealthy way.”

“Exactly,” Dylan said emphatically. “That’s why I got into this whole training and education thing. I was sick of seeing these poser wannabes who engage in risky play without a clue as to what they’re doing. There are a lot of vulnerable people in the scene who would do anything for a little affection.”

“That makes sense,” Caelan replied. “And I agree with you wholeheartedly. But I’m still not quite making the leap yet between what happened with Cynthia and your strong reaction to Master Chuck back there.”

“Yeah. Well.” Dylan blew out a breath. “It’s what happened afterward.”

“Go on,” Caelan gently urged.

Dylan ran a hand over his face, girding himself. Finally, he said, “It was like a month after she left. I hadn’t seen nor heard from Cynthia during that time. I hadn’t been going to the clubs or anything. I needed a timeout from the whole scene.”

“Understandable.”

“Yeah, but you know how it is. When you’re hardwired like we are, you need that intensity of experience. You crave the kind of connection you can only find with BDSM.”

Caelan nodded.

“So, I went back to the clubs, specifically to a hardcore underground BDSM club in Santa Monica where Cynthia and I used to hang out.”

“And she was there?”

“Yeah, she was there. She was scening with some dude—this muscle-bound jerk I’d seen around before who liked his action very rough. Even though things had gone down the way they had, I still cared about her. It hurt me to see her with another guy, which was crazy, given how things had ended.”

“Not crazy. You’d invested a lot of time and love with her. Just because things end, that doesn’t mean all the feelings instantly vanish.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said, grateful for Caelan’s understanding. “So, I watched them a while. She hadn’t seen me or anything. Then he started doing this chokehold on her that I knew she loved. But he was taking it too far, so it seemed to me, tightening his grip until her eyes rolled back in her head, her face purple. I started to intervene, and then I stopped myself. She wasn’t mine anymore. I had no right to get in the middle of their scene. Frustrated and angry, I left the club.”

His voice cracked with emotion, tears filling his eyes. “I can’t,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he struggled to regain control.

Caelan put his hand over Dylan’s. “It’s okay, Dylan. Whatever happened, you can tell me. I sense you need to say this out loud. I will keep your confidence, I promise. No judgments. You’re safe here.”

Dylan opened his eyes and drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I should have said something. I should have stopped the scene,” he said, his voice cracking again. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. “I knew she’d never stop him. She had no limits. But instead, I walked out, my pride more important than her safety. Than her…life…”

“Oh, Dylan,” Caelan breathed. “Did she…?”

“Yeah,” Dylan said miserably. “She fucking died.” His voice broke on the word. He had to force himself to continue. “That asshole choked her out. Even if she’d lived, she was braindead by the time the bastard let go of her. It made the papers. That club was shut down and the guy went to jail, but none of that brought Cynthia back.”

He wiped his eyes, startled by the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. “That’s why I got so fucking furious with Chuck. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it appeared, but all I could see was Cynthia, letting some dude choke her out. For a moment there, Chuck was that guy. Then, when he basically told me to go fuck myself, I nearly lost it.”

Dylan’s voice cracked on a sob and he hid his face in his hands. “God. I’m sorry.”

Caelan handed him one of the cloth napkins from a place setting. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You were absolutely right to stop Chuck. No question about that. And clearly, it brought up some very toxic stuff for you. Crying is good, Dylan. It’s a very important release valve. Don’t let some stupid idea about being a macho man stop you from feeling what you feel.”

He pushed back from his chair and came to stand beside Dylan. He patted Dylan’s back. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened, Dylan. I agree, it was a tragic accident that never should have happened. You need to accept your pain, instead of trying to power through it. Acknowledge the loss, but don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”