“Any type of humiliation in any setting is my hard limit.”
“I’d never do that to you,” she said softly.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Be warned—if it ever happens, I will walk away.”
And he had done exactly that.
At least he’d kept his word, because she had blatantly broken hers.
Fuck.
Numb, yet in the worst pain of her life, Shiori pushed to her feet and gathered the rest of her stuff, blindly shoving it in Fee’s duffel bag.
By the time she reached Maddox and Deacon in the hallway, she’d erected a brave front.
Deacon frowned at her. “I was coming to see if you’ve got a ride home.”
She waggled her phone. “Car service is on its way.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Night, guys. See you tomorrow.”
“Shiori, given how shitty you look, maybe it’d be best if you didn’t come in tomorrow. You’ll definitely scare the little kids’ classes.”
“I’ll ice up, take something for the pain, and sleep for fourteen hours. Then I’ll be good to go.”
“Whatever. You’ll do what you want anyway.” Deacon turned toward Maddox, effectively dismissing her.
She hobbled to the front entrance. She’d never felt more stupid or alone in her life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KNOX hadn’t known what to do with himself after he’d left the fight. He’d been grateful for Blue’s understanding on why he couldn’t stay. At a loss for better ideas, he drove straight home, parking his truck in his garage just in case Shiori showed up. Then he’d realized how ridiculous that was, because he had no intention of sitting in the dark the rest of the night.
He settled on the couch with a soda and flipped through channels, needing something to hold his attention and distract him. Some station was running a marathon of Supernatural. Nothing in that series would remind him of Shiori. Or tonight.
But once the fighting sequences started, he had to change to something else.
Maybe he oughta grab a bottle and drink until he passed out. But he’d never used booze as a coping mechanism, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Two hours after he’d sat down, he got back up and wandered through his house. He’d turned his phone off, and he turned it back on to see if he had any messages.
One, from Deacon.
The fight went like we expected. Thought u should know. Call if u need something.
His stomach twisted. So Shiori had gotten the fuck beat out of her. How was he supposed to deal with that?
Get in your truck and go to her.
No. It was her choice; she needed to deal with the consequences of her rash decision.
He went around and around with himself, but he finally shut the lights off and crawled into bed.
All night his dreams were filled with her. She wore one of her business suits—a short, trim jacket that outlined the power in her back and arms with a skintight skirt that showcased her ass—and four-inch stilettos that did amazing things for her calves.
When Knox tried to get her attention, she ignored him. So he moved in closer and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around, blood flowed down her chin and neck. Her teeth were broken. So was her nose. Her eyes were swollen shut. He started to back away from her, but two strong arms held him in place. Then Ronin’s voice exploded in his ear. “This is your fault. You should’ve tried harder to stop her.”
That was the first time he woke up.
The next dream had them playing bedroom games. She’d tied him to a bench with his knees spread wide, giving her free access to his cock and balls. Then, after he was blindfolded, she’d put nipple clamps on him. And she’d lubed up something and shoved it up his ass. Something soft floated over his skin from his face to his toes. Shiori excelled at tactile sensations, and he was about to climb out of his damn skin. “Nushi, let me touch you.”
“Tell me who I am to you.”
“My Mistress.”
“And what does that mean?”
“I’m yours. I follow your desires and fulfill them and turn over all free will to you.”
“Very good, pet.”
Pet?
“Are you proud that I’m your Mistress?”
“Yes.”
“Would you wear my collar so everyone can see who you belong to?”
That caused him to struggle against his bonds. “I—”
“Sounded like a yes to me.” Something cold and tight clamped around his throat. Before he could tell her it was too tight, his hands were freed. Then he was jerked upright. Chains weighted his hands when he tried to claw at his throat to find some air.