Willing Sacrifice

Max, you’re a little scary. Turning to the shelf behind her that held a small assortment of dress shoes and two pairs of running shoes, she found a picture propped up behind them. His mother and sister obviously. They were laughing, at some kind of birthday party. His mother had dark eyes and hair. His sister had the dark hair, but Max’s gray eyes. The dark-blond hair and impressive size must have come from his father, but there was no picture of him.



He’d talked about how intoxicating her scent was, but she felt like if she slept anywhere in this house, it would be here, where she could inhale the various scents that were all him. Of course, if he was in that bed, that was where she could inhale the drug direct from the source. She thought about waking him in the morning by putting her lips around his cock, a slow, leisurely, dragging suck up the hard length. He’d wake to find his hands tied loosely to the headboard with her robe tie, and she’d bring him to climax that way.



Of course, she suspected he was a very light sleeper, so more likely she’d order him to put his hands above his head and do as she pleased while he watched her with those heavy-lidded gray eyes. His fingers would clench in self-imposed restraint, body bowing up to her mouth.



“In here stealing or snooping?” He spoke behind her.



“I was told I could look around. You didn’t put any limits on it.”



“No, I didn’t.” Two steps to cross the room and he put his arms around her waist. He drew her back against him to nuzzle her throat. He was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of flannel shorts. His skin was still damp from the shower, hair scented with the fragrant shampoo. “Breakfast is ready. You smell like my soap. I like it.”



“You don’t have a picture of your dad?”



“No. He left before Amanda was even in school. Mom did it all, so he didn’t earn a place on my shelf. A guy that cuts out on his family like that isn’t a father. He’s a sperm donor.”



It was a trait she liked about Max, and one they shared. There was no self-pity in the flat statement, nothing to suggest he nursed the specter of an abandoned kid who wished daddy would care more. If the incident defined him at all, it was likely in making sure he was the antithesis of what his father had been.



He also made a good omelet. Returning to his kitchen, she sat at his little table, which she expected had been pulled off someone’s curbside trash and repainted. There was a crack through the middle that had been caulked and sanded before the paint was put down. “You know, I could talk to Matt about your salary. If this is the best you can afford, he deserves to be horsewhipped.”



“I get paid well enough, as I’m sure you already know. This just suits me. I don’t spend much time here.”



“No, you don’t. You’re usually at work, or apparently doing an insane fitness regimen. What demons are chasing you, Max?”



He kept his eyes on his plate, didn’t answer. Reaching across the table, she touched his face. When he caught her wrist, she didn’t withdraw, just met his gaze. “I asked you a question, Max.”



“I don’t have any demons chasing me.”



She studied him. “No. That’s true. You’re the one doing the chasing, aren’t you?”



The dangerous flicker in his gaze confirmed it, but he merely squeezed her wrist and let her go to scrape up another bite. “When you’re done eating, I’ll give you a ride to your place, make sure you get to work on time. Don’t want Matt chewing your ass for being late.”



“He’s not that brave. As many times as I’ve stayed past midnight or worked from home to make sure they have what they need the next day, I’d like to see him try.”



“And I’d like to watch that. Bet it would make a great YouTube video.”



“Max.” She folded her hands in her lap, stared him down. “After what I shared with you four weeks ago, you’re really going to dodge this? Quid pro quo.”



“That’s emotional blackmail. And in all fairness, you put me through hell these past four weeks. So I’d say slate’s balanced.”



“Probably. But you’ve given me a bad feeling, and I don’t like it. You don’t work out like you’re addicted to exercise. You work out like you’re staying ready for something.”



“I don’t want you to be a part of that.” The set to his jaw said the topic wasn’t negotiable. He sat back in the chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “When it’s done, it will be done, and I’ll never revisit it again.”



He shook his head at her look. “I’m not shutting you out, Janet. I’m trained in OPSEC, operations security. The demon I’m chasing, I view it the same as I viewed any mission I took with the SEALs. I don’t divulge any information about it, because it’s classified, and it’s going to stay that way, to protect everyone around me as much as the mission. It’s like when a SEAL is married. It’s just separate from what he is with his wife. She has to figure that out and accept that to accept being with him. It’s not an ultimatum or a fucked-up power play, I swear. It’s just the way things in my world work. Understand?”



She pursed her lips. “Not an easy thing for a woman used to control to accept.”



“Not an easy thing for anyone to accept from someone they love,” he said seriously. “That’s part of why SEALs have an eighty percent divorce rate.” Then, as if realizing how the statement might be taken, he shifted in the chair. “Not that I’m saying that you love me, or have given marriage any thought…”



He shook his head as she lifted a brow, her lips quirking. “Yeah, you’re just sitting there holding the shovel, aren’t you?”



“Well, it’s much more fun to watch you dig the hole with your bare hands.”



He snorted, picked up her empty plate and dumped them both in the sink. For the next few moments, she watched him efficiently wash and rinse, stacking their plates and cups neatly in the dish drainer. Then he dried out the sink with a towel, polishing the faucet.



God, she was in trouble if just watching the man do dishes could make something in her stomach yearn, her heart soften. Rising, she slipped her arms around him, pressing herself against his back. She didn’t say anything, just held him, and he put the towel aside, closing his hand over her linked fingers.



“Something is happening with us, Max. Today was a breakthrough moment, and we both see it. If you agree this isn’t a casual thing for either of us, and you believe not only in being prepared, but in preparing those around you, then it needs to be talked about.”



She had him there, because tension thrummed through his muscles. She rose on her toes to put her lips against the back of his neck, then slipped down again, still holding him to her.



“I think there is a difference between chasing a demon ‘down range’ and chasing one in your own backyard. It might require a different level of disclosure at some point. If you get hurt, and I was close enough to stop it from happening, I’m going to be extremely angry with you. I gave you a sign of my trust four weeks ago. I didn’t do it well, but I did it. Can you give me something?”



He sighed, the broad chest lifting and falling beneath her touch. He turned in her arm span, putting his hands on her hips and leaning back against the counter, stretching his legs out on either side of her. “My mother was killed as an example to those in the neighborhood who stood up to the gangs, Janet. She was beaten to death. My sister…they raped and then beat her as well, only she lived. In a way. She had brain damage, part of it psychological, a lot of it physical. All of it apparently permanent. While I was away on a mission to keep our world safe, they weren’t safe. Not even close. If you’ve been doing your SEAL research, you saw the movie where they said that a SEAL is always trying to get home, that home’s the whole point of it. But my home was gone when I came back.”



“And the men who did it?”



“There were three of them. Two are no longer an issue. The ringleader went underground.”



She studied his face, the calm stillness of his gray eyes, the set of his jaw. The same way he’d understood never to use her real name, she knew not to speak aloud the possibility of what had happened to those two.



“I expect the police will eventually find him.”



“He’s a cold file at the bottom of a stack of files, because he left the country. Went underground, lost in the network of Mexican cartels. And even if they do luck out and find him, I know how it works. His mommy won’t have held him enough, he was poor and misunderstood, it’s racial profiling…whatever bullshit they want to concoct to excuse his actions. There’s right and wrong, and there’s the law. Sometimes they agree, but a lot of days they don’t. You know that as well as anyone.”



Yes, she did. She touched his face. “There’s this peculiar thing that happens, Max, when a Domme gets attached to a sub. She considers him hers. Her property, and she expects her property to take very good care of himself.”



His hands slid up her back. He pressed her close as he wound his hand in her hair, clipped back in a tail now so when he caressed the strands, he tilted her head back, his lips coming so close to hers they hovered an inch apart when he finally spoke.



“What about the sub? What if he considers her his as well? Does that happen?”



“All the time. Though some are more blatant about it than others.” She liked the strength of his arms, the determination in his expression. She wanted everything about him, even the things they’d just discussed that disturbed her. They were all part of who he was. “So take me to work, and promise me when I’m not around to do it, you’ll guard that fine ass of yours.”



“Sounds like my fine ass is yours, not mine. Mistress.” He spoke the last word against her lips. The way it vibrated through her body told her, amazingly enough, he was going to prove he was more than capable of taking her once more before they headed to work.



In some ways, the man truly was a god. But in some very harrowing ways, he was all too mortal and fragile.