Branded Sanctuary (38 page)

Her grip tightened further. “There have been times, watching you, that I‟ve gone into my office and done everything possible not to scream my rage. It has made me so unspeakably furious that something else I valued was taken because of this pestilence that was my childhood. It has hurt me more than I can express, not knowing how to fix it, how to give you back what my father took from you.”

Marguerite broke off. Not only was it the longest emotional outpouring Chloe had ever heard from her boss, she was amazed to hear Marguerite‟s voice tremble at the end, her right eye glistening with the hint of an actual tear.

Before the attack, Chloe had never feared her own emotions. It was as she‟d told Brendan, her strategy had been to embrace every ounce of life, living without fear.

Marguerite had known such fear in her childhood that it was Chloe‟s night on the train tracks, multiplied by a factor of ten. As a result, the austere owner of Tea Leaves had always been so regimented with her feelings. Each emotion was carefully vetted before it was sent out to represent her.

Therefore, seeing her close to a breaking point shocked Chloe to her toes, making her realize the true vulnerability of the invincible. Their need for reassurance could be completely overlooked.

“I‟ve been so fucking self-absorbed,” she murmured. “Here I was, caught up in Brendan, and it never occurred to me…”

“No, hush. It shouldn‟t have. That‟s not why I‟m telling you this.” Marguerite pressed her lips together, gave her hand a squeeze and sat back, closing her eyes and picking up the tea.

Though she said nothing further, Chloe understood she needed a minute. To tell the truth, so did she. She gazed down at the caramel-color of the blend Marguerite had given her, one of the green teas, probably one of her concoctions specifically geared toward dissipating tension. However, as they sat there quietly, she heard a foot on the cobblestones. Despite the intensity of the moment, she felt a rush of warmth. There was one who never overlooked Marguerite‟s needs.

Tyler stepped into the garden, his paper under his arm, obviously about to head out, but checking in with her before he left. Marguerite kept her eyes closed, and when he bent to touch her cheek, she stayed that way. Her head tilted into the press of his mouth, though, as his other hand cupped her skull, held her that way.

After a moment‟s pause, he turned his gaze to Chloe. With a bemused expression, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead as well, stroking her hair. Chloe found herself leaning into that same reassurance. She mumbled her “I‟m sorry,” into his shirtfront.

When he leaned back, his eyes were as kind and compassionate as they were stern and uncompromising earlier. “Forgiven, little flower.”

“You‟re really scary, you know. I guess you‟ve convinced terrorists to give up their plots and everything, so you have practice.”

“The women in my life require a different approach.” Humor rippled across his handsome face. “The terrorists are far less work.”

* * * * *

After he left them, they were silent a few more moments, but an easier feeling was between them, surrounded by the aroma of tea, morning sunlight, and late blooming flowers. The buzz of insects. “The night at the carnival,” Chloe asked at last. “You disapproved of me being there. Why?”

Marguerite adjusted the tea pot on the cozy, smoothing the lace edge with slim fingers. “It was the wrong setting. A submissive‟s needs can be confusing and overwhelming for someone who‟s not a Dominant. A submissive tends to have a lot of conflicting emotions, a push-pull, so to speak. It‟s also difficult for a submissive like Brendan to instruct a Mistress, because he is wired to please. Plus, for someone like you, who isn‟t part of the D/s world, a setting like that can overwhelm you with the physical side of what it means. D/s is, at its heart, psychological. It‟s a power exchange, where a Dom takes the surrender of a submissive and makes the most of that for both of them.”

“So he needs a Mistress, somebody to tie him up and do things to him, things like I saw at the carnival.” Chloe sighed. “I mean, freaking Level Ten pain threshold? I‟m not like that, Marguerite. It‟s not that I couldn‟t learn, it just doesn‟t feel like me.” Marguerite shook her head. “Done the right way, Brendan will respond the same way to a command to give his Mistress a foot massage as he would to being whipped.” At that astounding statement, she leaned forward. “Some subs need the restraints and caning to be fulfilled. But not him. How much D/s can or can‟t adversely affect a relationship has a great deal to do with the two people involved. Brendan loves you, Chloe. I can see it in his face, and that love will continue to grow.

“He is unique, in that the most elemental level of his submission has to do with a woman‟s willingness to let him care for her, to do what it is she wishes and see her pleasure in that. What Brendan needs, more than a Mistress, is someone who understands what his submissiveness is truly about. And that‟s the challenge and test of acceptance you face, not whether or not you are a natural Domme.” Chloe drew a breath. “Is it wrong for me to feel a little pissed off at you? A little possessive of Brendan, kind of like I don‟t want you around him, or touching him again?”

“No.” The wry humor in the other woman‟s face did a lot to loosen Chloe‟s gut. “In fact, I find it very reassuring. You want him. Perhaps could even love him in time.”
If I don’t already.
Chloe knew that thought was there on the table, as obvious as the gleam of sun on the teapot. “The way he calls Tyler sir. Brendan said that he initiated that.”

“Yes, Brendan did that himself. He understood, based on what we have been to one another, that it was necessary to be clear how he views himself in relation to Tyler‟s claim over me.”

Okay.
Chloe thought it through. “But you were mad at me for more than that. Tyler said you‟re protective of him, and you thought…I felt like you thought I‟d abused his trust.”

“Didn‟t you?”

“I didn‟t know what I was doing. I…” Chloe came to a stop before that level pale blue gaze. Goddess, it was eerie how both of them could do that look. “Yeah, I did.”

“You needed to exorcise some demons. Another reason the setting was not a good one.”

“But isn‟t pain part of submission?” She remembered wanting to hurt him, a couple times, that desire to strike.

Marguerite cocked her head. “When you wanted to hurt him, up on the platform, it felt wrong inside you, ugly, violent. Right?”

At Chloe‟s nod, shadows came into Marguerite‟s eyes. “You know the small scar Tyler bears under his eye?”

“He said he had a gardening accident.”

“No. I did that to him. Because I wanted to hurt him.” Marguerite met her gaze.

“There is a difference between giving pain to your submissive for your mutual needs and pleasure, and using him as a whipping post for your own wounds, your fear and pain. You intuitively knew the difference, which is why it felt wrong.” Chloe pressed her lips together. “I don‟t think I‟d ever feel okay giving pain to anyone, no matter the reason. I understand some people, like Brendan, may take pleasure in that, but it‟s not me.”

“If your love for one another goes the direction I expect, knowing what I know of both of you, you won‟t have to worry about that.” Marguerite arched a brow. “What is it you like about touching Brendan?”

Though unexpected, the change of direction wasn‟t unwelcome. “Well…besides the fact it‟s like eating really good cake, I like the way he acts when I touch him.”

“Yes, you do.” That ghostlike smile on her lips, Marguerite nodded. “The more we fall in love, Chloe, the more deeply we bond with another. Our preferences change, grow, because we are so wrapped up in pleasing one another, nothing else matters.” Chloe considered that. “He said something, when we were out on a picnic. That he gets irritated with people who claim not to need anyone, who confuse being defensive and obnoxious with independence. It was an unusual thing to hear a guy say.”

“It‟s not unusual for Brendan. He lost his mother young, and understands that loss of stability, how it feels when there is no safety net of love or connection to another in your life. Someone could certainly misinterpret that as weakness in a male.” Marguerite‟s level look spoke volumes. Chloe remembered her reluctance to call Brendan a submissive for that very reason. Yet he‟d made her feel protected and cosseted every minute they‟d been together. Every minute her fucked up mind had let him, and sometimes when it hadn‟t.

“I don‟t,” Chloe said, with enough conviction that Marguerite‟s jaw eased. “He made a joke about it, though. He said if a terrorist had showed up at your wedding, everyone would crowd behind Mac and Tyler, because they have that out front, alpha-hero thing going, to take charge and lead everyone out of danger. But it doesn‟t make Brendan…” She sought the right words, but Marguerite already had them.

“He‟d make sure every woman and child there was tucked behind Mac and Tyler, and then risk his life drawing the line of fire until they got them out of harm‟s way.” Marguerite nodded in perfect understanding. “A soldier is just as brave as the colonel leading the troops, because he has to have the courage to follow, to believe that winning the battle is the most important thing. That‟s what Brendan is.”
Percival.
She remembered Brendan‟s words about the knight.

“As I said, Brendan is a more intuitive submissive, Chloe. He doesn‟t always need you to clearly state what you want. He seeks it out, as part of his nature, and strives to meet it, perhaps to excess. But no, he‟s not a doormat. Not in the least. He won‟t let you abuse him, though he might undervalue his worth, accept less than what you could truly give him, if you don‟t find the courage to do so.” Okay, there was a warning there, that streak of protectiveness showing in Marguerite‟s eyes that Tyler had mentioned. Chloe felt less threatened by it now, knowing Marguerite had a similar feeling toward her, but it did turn her toward that uneasiness she‟d felt a couple times during her conversations with Brendan. An uneasiness because of his unwillingness to tell her what
he
wanted.

“The night at the carnival, how would you have done it…when he was tied up?”

“I‟d have told you first and foremost it wasn‟t about sticking six inches of molded rubber up his backside, any more than religious faith is about two sticks tied together in a certain way. That‟s a tool for expressing your faith, not the sole focus of it.” Rising abruptly, Marguerite drew Chloe out of her seat. She moved them a few steps into an open area of the garden, where they stood on a platform of slate tiles next to a gurgling fountain formed by smooth stones. The winter bushes here had a light, sweet smell.

Turning Chloe away from her, Marguerite took her palm down Chloe‟s back, a slow trail of sensation. “Imagine you‟re him, Chloe. He wants to give himself to you utterly.

You gag him because he needs to be helpless to your love, however you want to express it. He‟s given up his voice, his freedom, to give you pleasure in this precious moment.

To take you both on a journey together. He‟s hard for you, his mind, soul and heart riveted upon you. You have commanded all his attention.” Her hands settled on Chloe‟s hips, her body pressing close, giving Chloe an unexpected charge of sexual energy, with an emotional twist. “Now imagine you‟re wearing that strap-on. You put the tip in his anus, exert pressure and slide forward, easing in, so slowly, registering every single response of that body, heart, soul and mind to you.”

Chloe thought of Brendan‟s body accepting her, those beautiful muscles straining, head fully back on his shoulders, ass tightening in delicious display, flexing against her.

If she‟d moved forward, she would have felt it, that push followed by a sudden slick giving, a dildo accepted in a man‟s ass the way a woman‟s cunt would accept his cock.

Marguerite brushed her lips against her hair. “Different as day and night, isn‟t it?”

“Yeah.” Chloe swallowed as Marguerite let her go enough to guide her back to the chair, easing her down on weak knees before taking a seat herself. Though she had no obvious feathers out of place, Marguerite‟s gaze remained compassionate, gentle. It made something crack inside Chloe‟s chest, remembering arousal and pain sawing together against her breast bone. But she‟d be brave enough to take it a step further.

“M…I haven‟t asked, because I‟m not even sure I could understand. But what is he to you?” More importantly, what was she to him? Brendan had answered the question, for certain.
I’m not in love with her, and she’s not in love with me.
But she wanted Marguerite‟s answer to it.

“I was his Mistress, Chloe.” Marguerite pressed her lips together. “I
am
his Mistress.

You‟re right, you may not be at a place you can fully understand how that doesn‟t impede or detract from where the two of you are going, but it doesn‟t. There is no active sexual or romantic relationship between us, and there never will be again, unless that is something the four of us find agreeable. Brendan and I are bonded, because of who and what we are to one another, but what the two of you have will exceed it, if your hearts desire it.”

“I do,” Chloe said slowly. Reassurance and apprehension both came with hearing the truth of it spoken. “But M, I think…I need to understand better. I don‟t know enough to know what I need to ask here, but…can you help me?” Marguerite studied her in that peculiar way she had, as if she was sifting through a variety of things about Chloe that Chloe couldn‟t even see in herself.

“You need to understand the core of what he is. I think you‟re already mostly there, but you need to have an experience with it, untainted by your own fear and pain. You‟ll go where you need to go then, find out who you are, who he is. It‟s a thing of raw, perfect beauty.”