Bound to Submit

She couldn’t get into her little apartment quick enough.

The minute she got inside, she bolted the door and slid down against it to the floor. What had just happened? What the hell had just happened?

But she knew.

Because it’d happened a few times before, back at the beginning.

She’d had a flashback.

That’s how fucked up she was. That’s how pathetic she was.

Which was why, when her cell phone rang, she didn’t answer. Because she knew it was him.

CHAPTER NINE

Griffin wanted to punch a fucking wall. Because he’d lost control of himself for two minutes—and chased away the one person he wanted more than anything.

“Christ,” he muttered, turning and going to the ropes covering the floor. One by one he rolled them up, but handling them didn’t give him any of the solace or peace it normally did. Because the night had revealed his fuck-ups were on a level far bigger than any he’d ever imagined.

He’d pushed her away.

He’d pushed her to war.

And she’d lost an arm and a best friend because of it.

She’d been hurt in so many ways.

And it was all his fucking fault.

He dropped the pile of hemp to the counter and braced his hands on the edge, and then he let his head hang heavy on his shoulders and tried to breathe.

How was he ever going to make this right? How would she ever forgive him for all that he’d done? And did he even deserve her forgiveness?

“Fuck. Fuck!” He pushed off the counter and paced. He needed to go after her, and he would. But she’d all but asked for some space from him, so he would give it to her—for a little while. He’d let her have her drink with Mia. In fact, he was glad that the two women had found each other. And then he’d go find Kenna and they’d talk.

Griffin just had to figure out what the hell to say to her before then.

Thirty minutes was all he could manage to wait, and even that had felt like a goddamned eternity. He made for the bar, but he didn’t see Kenna there.

“Master Leo?” Griffin called to the man bartending at the moment. All the Masters took turns running the various aspects of the club’s operations. Security, membership management, bartending, scheduling, training and demonstrations, and more. For his part, in addition to having built a lot of the dungeon furniture in use around Blasphemy, Griffin tended to work more on the business operations side of things.

Leo’s mismatched eyes flashed to him, and then he worked his way down the bar to where Griffin waited. “Hey. What’s up, man?”

“Have you seen Kenna, the blond woman I introduced earlier?” Dread told him she wasn’t here. That he’d missed her. That he’d let her get away. Again.

Nodding, Leo’s blond hair dropped into his eyes. “She passed by maybe a half hour ago. I saw her talking to Mia and then I think she split.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Thanks.”

“Everything okay?” Master Leo asked. “She looked a little—” He shrugged. “—wigged out.”

Fuck. “Yeah. Thanks again. You seen Master Quinton?” he asked, needing a sounding board. Someone who knew everything that’d gone down five years before. Back then, Quinton had probably been the first one to bust Griffin’s balls over not manning up with Kenna.

“He’s doing some sort of a sensory dep demonstration downstairs,” Leo said. “Just started.”

Aw, hell. Griffin nodded and pushed off the bar. Quinton’s sensory deprivation scenes tended to go on for a while. They were immersive experiences that the submissives around here all wanted to try—at least once. And Quinton was only too happy to please every one.

Which meant Griffin was on his own.

He made his way to the peace and quiet of the Masters’ lounge on the second floor and pulled out his phone. And then he dialed Kenna, because he wasn’t leaving things this way tonight. Not again.

Four rings. Voicemail. He cancelled the call and tried again.

“Fuck. Pick up, Kenna,” he said while it was ringing.

Voicemail again. Damnit.

This time, he left a message: “Kenna, it’s Griffin. I’m worried about you. We need to talk. Please. Call me back.”