Sacred Revelations (4 page)

I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.

-Anais Nin

Kitten

Tearing through the thick undergrowth of the shadowy mini-forest between my backyard and the community park, I questioned my sanity, but I felt better than I had in weeks, even though I was running late, though only by five minutes. He’d warned me to not be late. I prayed he didn’t leave. The wisp of turquoise silk skirt was to blame. I changed my top three times because nothing matched the skirt. Now I am late, only minutes, but still—late.

Racing through the damp, muggy, mini-forest, I realized my chosen top, a white spaghetti-strapped lace camisole, was a bad choice. I would be stained and filthy before I ever reached the park. Crashing through waist-high weeds and batting at silvery lines left by spiders as they flew across the path, I was on a harrowing journey though a small cleft of woods—labeled green space on county records—the middle of civilization, but so not civilized. Chirping squirrels, calling birds and the clicking things in dark shadows I had no desire to discover. I tripped twice trying to escape unseen danger I imagined lurking in the shadows.

Relief filled me as I spilled out onto mowed grass and I caught sight of him, leaning against the silvery leg of an ancient swing set. My breath caught as I saw for the first time perhaps just how huge and powerful a man he was. A man to be feared.

I stalled in the shadows for only a second, frozen by the sight of him, before I crossed the open span of lawn. He was like a big Greek God come to earth, a God of war or destruction, so dark and brooding, all height and muscle. Caught in the bright sunlight, his black hair seemed to soak in the heat, reflecting back nothing, his skin so deeply tanned that it seemed right at home in the blazing heat, the flame tattoos licking up his biceps seeming ready to ignite the man. He wore a skintight black T-shirt, the sleeves cut off and the round neck cut to create a V. He wore the T-shirt tucked in, further emphasizing the flat-ridged plane of his abdominals, but it was his tight, black leather pants that held my attention, seeming to mold to every curve, defining his thighs and, yeah, his package. I blushed, thinking about the penis behind the prominence of leather, already imagining that if the truth lived up to the size of the bulge…I swallowed hard, wondering if he’d gone to great lengths to try to seduce me or if this was his everyday look when not at Lewd Larry’s. Now that I thought about it, he was actually dressed so that he could have just left work or was going to work.

He had to be melting in those pants, but if he was, it didn’t show.

He did nothing to acknowledge that he saw me, not even the slightest tilt of his head, but I knew he did, I felt his gaze on me as I started to walk toward him.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” The words gushed out with the remaining air in my lungs. I’d held my breath when I saw him, but even that hadn’t stilled my breathing after my race through the woods. I panted, out of breath. He lifted his brow as I doubled over, trying to breathe. I peeked up at him from under my bangs, not quite ready to stand straight, barely able to inhale. “Thank you for not leaving.”

“My God, you’re out of shape!” He pulled my hands from my knees, forcing me upright, forcing my hands over my head.

I bent at my side, trying to relieve a side pinch, struggling to pull my hand from his grasp to rub my side.

“Keep your arms up and breathe,” he commanded. “It won’t hurt so much if you expand your lung area.

Inhale slow and deep.”

“I must appear ridiculous to you.”

“No, not ridiculous.” He pulled me to a swing and pushed me into it.

Closing my eyes, I relaxed into the rubber seat that hugged my butt, warm from the sun, heat rising through my skirt in a relaxing embrace. Arms still stretched over my head, I focused on breathing until I could actually inhale without pain. When I opened my eyes, he knelt before me. I trembled at his nearness for no other reason than he was near.

I’d given myself to him—for ninety days— starting now.

Oh God, what have I done? A sudden flash of memory filled my brain, and I remembered the feel of his tongue in my mouth, his taste. He’d only kissed me once…at Garrett’s house when Garrett hadn’t been home…and he’d caught me doing something wrong, something deceptive. He’d punished me by kissing me. His kiss had repulsed me, scared the shit out of me. I wasn’t ready for Lord Fyre then. He terrified me. He still terrified me.

Kneeling in front of me, he put his hands on my knees and I jumped.

“You said you were ready for this,” he accused, his eyes burning into my soul with a heat that seemed

touchable. I willed myself to not break down. “You’re afraid of me.”

“N-no, I’m not,” I denied, trying to stop shaking. I forced a smile and bravely placed my hands on top of his. “I’m here. I’m ready.”

“Hold on,” he commanded, standing, grabbing the chains. My hands automatically grabbed the heavy silver chains as he stood and pulled the swing toward him. His smile, suddenly brilliant and inviting, put me even more off balance than his quick movements. My grasp tightened as I realized his full intent, the same time he released the swing, sending me airborne. A small scream escaped my lips, making him laugh. I was swinging, backward then forward into him. He pushed me again. And again. Until I sailed as high as I possibly could.

Sailing into him, away from him, I could feel the connection of energy that seemed so overwhelming when we were still, looking into each other’s eyes. Flying through the air, the connection pulsed and it was like the moment was predestined. I was meant to find this man and, just that easily, I wasn’t terrified of him anymore. A giggle bubbled up from inside me. It had been a long time since I’d felt the rise and fall of swinging, a long time since I’d felt free.

“I don’t think you’re ready for the darkness that is to come.” His eyes were deadly as he pushed me higher and higher, his face twisted sternly. “I don’t think you are ready for me. Physically, you would not survive being my slave, and I pray you don’t think I exaggerate.”

“I am so ready for you Lord Fyre, you have no idea,” I bragged, laughing.

“You’ve starved yourself. Physically, you’re a disaster—and emotionally…”

“Are you reneging?” I challenged, amusement making my voice light.

“No,” he answered, tilting his head, his mouth twisted between devilish smirk and worried frown. “I just hope you live to regret this.”

Broadening my smile until it hurt, I winked at him boldly, giggling and pointing my toes into the blue of the sky. I felt good looking at that sky, empowered, though technically I’d just given myself away.

The heavy chain framed the sky and, for just a moment, my mind transported me back in time. As a little girl, I would fly and pretend. I was an astronaut returning to earth and, in truth, the sky looked as the earth must look from space. Patches of blue shrouded in atmosphere.

“Close your eyes.”

I obeyed without question, the bright sky searing red behind my closed lids. My stomach lurched as I felt him push me higher than before.

“Lean back and point your toes, like you did when you were enjoying this a moment ago.”

I leaned back, arching my neck, feeling myself soaring higher and higher, my fingers gripping hard into the chain.

“Feel the fall,” he commanded. “Feel the pull of the rise.”

I felt them both, becoming the fall and the pull.

“It’s mind numbing, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I screamed happily, his statement echoing my thoughts.

“Keep your eyes closed tight and just feel.”

I felt the surge as he pushed me to the limit of the chains. For the first time I felt fear, not of the man, of the swing, of my own frailty as a human being, imagining the broken heap of my bones if I fell. Arms aching, hands tingling, I saw my fingers mottled white, I was holding so tightly to the chain. I wanted him to stop me but I didn’t ask.

“Trust me,” he commanded. “Relax.”

I obeyed and instantaneously the rise and fall consumed me, becoming mind-numbing once more. Rising, falling. I no longer knew which way was sky, which way was ground, a drunken sensation that wasn’t all bad.

Just as I was relaxed, flying, my mind no longer on planet earth, he jerked the swing to a stop with a hard thud, and suddenly my ass was pressed against his chest, my legs dangling. His harsh whisper ground the truth into my brain. “That is the way it would be with me as your Master. You won’t be in control of your rise, you won’t be in control of your fall. You will not know which way is up, or down.

You will not be able to come up with a clear thought, your mind will become so numb.”

Panicking, I tried to sit up, away from him, though I was high off the ground. His arm tightened around my waist, his breath becoming a warm presence against my bared lower back. The hand not supporting my weight ran along the inside of my bare thigh, stroking skin with an expert skill that was like jolts of electricity. His fingers traced higher, finding the lace edge of my panties, pushing beneath to find the wetness hidden behind the flimsy cloth.

“Such a little slut,” he whispered. My entire body stiffened and that was before he whispered ever so softly, “Sophia.”

Sophia. I froze, stiller than still, barely breathing. Only my mother had ever called me that. How could Lord Fyre know such a detail?

His fingers retreated, returning to the inside of my thigh. “That was your birth name, yes? Sophia Jane Marie Alexander. Your mother was originally Cecilia DuLaurent, shortening it to Celia when she immigrated, born Catholic, refused to recant. It was a secret your father’s flock would never know. He was ashamed of himself for not being able to save her, and for loving her anyway.

“You can’t possibly know that!” I cried out, but he ignored me.

“She named you what she wanted to name you, filling out the information for the birth certificate while your father was out of the room. It was a fight, a constant fight in your home, that she not call you Sophia until you were alone with her, and then in private, she could call you by the name she chose for you.”

“How could you possibly know?” I gasped.

“I know everything there is to know about you, Sophia .”

“Don’t call me that,” I growled.

With a push of the swing, he released me. Set me free. He walked away, leaving me flying through the air. Too late, I realized how badly I totally fucked up. Such a little thing, my name, and he was walking away because I… I didn’t submit to him fully.

“Stop! Lord Fyre! Please, come back!” I screamed after him, afraid to jump from the swing, needing to stop him, closing my eyes and jumping, screaming at his back, “I submit to you—fully.”

Standing, I saw that he had reached his motorcycle and, without a backward glance, he was gone.

Damn . I kicked the grass and paced, stopping only long enough to stomp and curse.

Damn, damn, damn

I refuse to stalk another Dom, damn it!

Straddling the angled heated leg of the swing set, I pounded my head against the metal leg. Why did he do that? Why did he catch me off guard, making me remember my mother?

I pounded my forehead again. Emotional trigger . The answer becoming as clear as the sky, he wanted to discover what made me tick, what I reacted to, what or who causes me to react. Yeah, I reacted all right. Damn, damn, damn! Each mental curse punctuated by my forehead hitting metal. I stopped when I felt rather than heard the vibration of his motorcycle, but didn’t turn to look at him until he skidded around me, braking directly in front of me, revving the engine before killing the power. Sitting on his ebony and chrome Harley, he looked dangerous. Straddling the swing-set leg, I was certain I looked ridiculous, but couldn’t figure out how to disengage myself gracefully.

I held myself very still, chastising, “There’s no motorcycles allowed on the grass.”

“Do I look like a man who obeys rules?” he challenged, holding out his hand. “Come here.”

Taking his hand, I stepped over the metal leg and took the single step closer he required. Still holding my hand, his other hand brushed my bangs off my forehead. “You seem to like hurting yourself entirely too much. That is unacceptable. Understood? If I want you marked, I will mark you. Already, it looks like your forehead is going to bruise. That doesn’t make me happy.”

Really? I didn’t think I’d pounded my head that hard but then my head reacted to his words and suddenly my forehead was throbbing. He ran his hand up my bare arm, his thumb tracing the tender, circular-shaped imprint of my teeth. My arm, too, beneath his massaging fingers seemed to hurt more, whereas before he’d mentioned it, I hadn’t felt it at all, not during, not while it bled, not after. I’d been numb.

Trying to jerk my arm free of his prodding thumbs, I realized just how not numb I was. “Ouch! That hurts,” I complained.

“Remember that in the future, Kitten. If you hurt yourself, I will make it hurt ten times worse.” He dug his thumb into the teeth print to illustrate his point, taking me almost to my knees, controlling me. He pulled me into him, whispering against my face, “Only I hurt you now, Sophia. Got it?”

Tears sprung to my eyes. Yeah, I understood, but I couldn’t say it out loud. He was going to hurt me, physically and mentally, make me think, make me remember.

Pushing into my tender arm, pulling me the direction he wanted me to turn, he controlled me with pain, pushing me over the front of his motorcycle seat as he scooted back to make room, leaving me face down, belly against warmed leather where my shirt was raised.

“Lift your skirt and pull down your panties,” he commanded, releasing my arm.

I started to rise off the bike, but he pressed his hand into the middle of my back, holding me still. “Do it from the position you are in.”

We’re in a children’s playground! My mind screamed. Granted there was no one there, granted we were shielded from the road by a few trees, but anyone could arrive at any time, taking the same path from the row of houses that I did through the green space. Lifting my skirt to fold over my waist, baring my ass with a slide of my panties, the only thought on my mind was that I pass Lord Fyre’s test, and if we got caught, I was pointing the blame at him.