Kenna nodded. “I promise.”
And, God, she hoped it was a promise she could keep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kenna was nervous when she arrived to Blasphemy on Sunday night, so the first thing she did was duck into the ladies’ room to pull herself together.
The problem was, her conversation with Sierra had left her feeling murky about what her approach to Griffin ought to be.
Part of her was determined that this was not and should not be about any kind of a relationship. And part of her wondered, if Master Griffin was interested, whether she’d be willing to give them another shot. Which was a big if based on absolutely no actual information besides him wanting to scene with her again. Given how well matched their kinks were and always had been, though, that didn’t seem all that surprising. But there was also a part of her, despite her sister’s reassuring words, that really questioned whether Kenna was too messed up right now to be capable of the emotions a relationship required, even if Griffin wanted it.
After everything, she just wasn’t sure she had any emotional cushion to weather another hit—so maybe it wasn’t worth the risk one way or the other.
Which felt a whole freaking lot like cowardice.
Bracing her hands on the counter, she sighed.
Just then, another woman stepped into the room, the red cuff on her wrist also marking her as a submissive, though a claimed one. “Hi,” she said with a ready smile. She stepped into one of the stalls and then back to the mirror a few moments later. “You okay?” With long dark brown hair and a gauzy black dress hugging her curves, she was a truly beautiful woman.
“Oh, yeah. Just...trying to screw my head on straight,” Kenna said.
“Man, I’ve been there myself a time or two.” She dried her hands, than stuck one out for a shake. “I’m Mia Breslin.”
“I’m Kenna Sloane,” she said, returning the shake with her prosthetic hand. “Sorry. Hope that wasn’t too weird.”
“Not at all,” Mia said, truly appearing unfazed.
“Are you new at Blasphemy? I haven’t belonged for that long, but I don’t remember seeing you around.”
“I used to be a regular, but I was...away for a few years. I’ve just returned,” Kenna said, not wanting to share with anyone here that she’d been in the military before telling Master Griffin—which she ought to do tonight. Knowing she needed to do so was another source of the butterflies winging through her belly because it meant she was going to have to open up about things that were still pretty raw inside.
“Well, welcome back, then. Master Kyler’s waiting for me, but I’d love to catch a drink later if you’re still around,” Mia said, fingering the gorgeous leather and silver collar around her neck. A little diamond heart hung off a chunky hook at the hollow of her throat.
Wow. Master Kyler? Kenna remembered him from her former time here, and what she most remembered was that he never seemed to play with the same submissive more than once or twice. And now he was in a committed relationship? Kenna’s gaze returned to Mia’s throat—a collared relationship?
If Kyler could commit...
Kenna wasn’t sure she should let herself finish that thought.
“I’d love to,” Kenna managed. “It was nice to meet you, Mia.” And she meant that. The conversation with Sierra had left her certain about a few things—and one of them was that she needed to cut the loner routine if she ever truly wanted to feel better. And she could use new friends in the lifestyle who understood what it was all about, that was for sure.
“You too, Kenna. Have a good night.” She gave a little wave as she made for the door.
Kenna turned to the mirror. “All right, Sloane. Let’s do this.” She smoothed her hands over the form-fitting spaghetti-strap lingerie she wore. The body of it was dark blue, and it had wide black-lace detailing around the V-neckline, outlining the empire waist, and hanging from the mid-thigh hemline. A lacy, feminine bow hung from the bottom of the V, and she wore a sheer black thong underneath.
Her prosthetic was in full view, with its black-and-silver socket that attached to her stump and connected to the matte-black hand. But she’d already received the reaction of the only person she cared about. Anyone else would have to take her as she was. Or they could stay the hell out of her way.