Penance (Long Slow Tease, #2) (21 page)

For a moment she stared at him, but when he didn’t relent she did as he asked with shaking hands until she stood nude in the dim illumination coming from the lanterns on either side of the front door.

If she’d been hoping for some kind of lustful reaction from him she would have been wrong. Instead of desire she clearly read shock, then anger in his face. He strode over to her and jerked the clothes and boots from her arms, tossing them over to the side before he gripped her arm and spun her in a circle.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking skeleton. Were you trying to kill yourself? No, don’t answer me. I’m so fucking pissed right now that the last thing I want to hear is your bullshit.”

His words hurt and she crossed her arms over her chest, curling in on herself.
She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t that bad, but she could feel her bones as she hugged herself and when she looked down the bones of her hips stuck out from the concave hollow of her stomach. When he didn’t say anything more, only turned away from her and took the steps up to the house, she followed him feeling like a pathetic, whipped puppy.

Once they were inside
, Wyatt flipped on the lights, revealing a quaint living room decorated in pale blue and tan tones that opened up into a small kitchen. A set of stairs led to a loft that looked out over the living room, and a door off the kitchen opened to what she assumed was the bathroom. It was a very pretty, comforting place, and she wondered who it belonged to. She stood next to the front door, unsure of what to do as Wyatt stalked into the kitchen. He looked so odd in his leather among the soft, inviting comfort of the cottage but she felt even weirder standing there naked.

He opened the door to the refrigerator and looked up. “You’re going to eat.”

Her stomach cramped at the thought, but she didn’t dare argue with him. She could tell that he was close to losing his temper, though she wasn’t sure why he was so mad at her. Yes, she could stand to gain a few pounds, but he seemed to take the current state of her body as a personal insult. A small portion of her psyche was pissed that he was ordering her to eat, but at the same time, she was just so damn grateful to see him that she’d do pretty much anything he asked as long as he would forgive her, touch her, hold her, kiss her.

Look at her with something other than disgust.

Taking a covered dish from the fridge he set it on the counter and motioned to the small table in front of the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the living room. “Sit.”

She did as ordered, a slight shiver working through her at the chill of the room. Wyatt absorbed every bit of her attention as she watched him move around the kitchen, warming up something that smelled good before pouring a large glass of milk. After grabbing a fork he brought her meal to her
. Her stomach actually growled at the smell of what looked like some kind of beef stew. She wanted to ask him who made it, where he’d gotten it from, what they were doing here, and a thousand other things but she somehow managed to keep quiet, but it was a struggle.

“Eat. I’m going to go change. When I come back I want to see an empty bowl.
You will no longer punish yourself by not eating. Punishing you is my job now.”

Fear of disappointing him filled her
, and she gave the amount of food a panicked look before glancing back up at him, silently pleading with him to not make her eat all of it. After depriving herself of food for so long her stomach had shrunk. She didn’t think all that rich stew would fit or if she’d manage to keep it down. Wyatt studied her, then his face softened the slightest bit.

“Eat what you can, Michelle. But the more you eat the more you’ll please me.”

Those words unlocked the part of her heart that needed to earn his forgiveness, and she picked up her spoon and began to eat. At first every swallow was a struggle as her stomach cramped up. She had to take deep breaths and force her body to accept the food. Soon the nausea passed and she actually felt better, enough that she managed to drink all of her milk and ate more than half of her stew. By the time she was full to the point of feeling like she would burst she looked up to find Wyatt watching her from the blue couch in the living room. He’d changed into a pair of black lounge pants and a dark blue t-shirt that clung to his powerful chest and arms.

She’d been so wrapped up in doing what he wanted her to do that she hadn’t noticed him return.

“Finished?” he asked in a low voice.

She nodded, her gaze going from the stew to Wyatt and back again, hoping she’d eaten enough to please him.

“Go use the bathroom then come up to the loft. It’s time for bed.”

Her heart surged at the thought of sleeping with Wyatt, of cuddling close to him and losing herself in his warmth, in his heat. She quickly used the bathroom and found an unopened toothbrush in the small vanity over the sink. After a quick brush
, she examined her face and sighed, knowing that she could do nothing about the dark circles under her eyes. She stared at herself, wondering how Wyatt could ever be attracted to her when she did indeed look like a walking skeleton.

When she came back into the living room she found that he’d turned the lights off, but a golden glow came from the loft. She eagerly took the stairs, anticipation filling her until she caught sight of the loft and her breath caught in her throat. A large, four poster bed took up most of the space, but next to it was a sleeping mat with a pillow and a blanket. The gleam of metal caught her eye
, and it took her a moment to realize that a chain and cuff had been attached to the bottom of the bed, a sight so similar to the one that she had on her bed at home that she knew immediately Wyatt was going to make her sleep on the floor.

He reclined on the bed,
still dressed in his t-shirt and pants, and watched her intently. It hurt her heart so much that he wasn’t going to let her sleep with him that for a moment she considered running out the front door, trying to escape the pain, but she was helpless to resist the need to please him. His forgiveness could be earned; he told her that and she trusted him, believed him. Wyatt wouldn’t lie to her. She was the liar in this relationship.

With a heavy heart
, she walked to the side of the bed and knelt without being told.

“Put the cuff on, Michelle.”

She did as he asked, wishing it was his fingers strapping the black leather cuff to her ankle. It had been lined with sheepskin and was comfortable, but it was also the tether that kept her out of his arms, a visible symbol of her submission to him. Seeing the cuff on her ankle made her want to jerk it off, to establish her independence, but she couldn’t. Tamping down her dominant nature was a struggle, but when she looked up at Wyatt she managed to keep from removing it. He stared at her until she dropped her gaze. His fingers traced over her cheek a moment later in a soft caress that brought tears to her eyes.

“Sleep, Michelle, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

He turned out the light and she laid down on her mat, drawing the thick blanket over herself. It wasn’t the most comfortable place she’d ever slept, but also not the worst. She turned so she could look out over the dark living area and listened to the soft sounds of Wyatt moving around in the bed and his quiet breathing, and behind that, the dim roar of the ocean coming through a partially opened window somewhere. Part of her hoped that he would engage in some sexual play, tease her the way she teased him when he’d been the one chained to her bed, but he didn’t and she soon found herself drifting, matching her breath to his until her body relaxed and she sighed, the tension slowly leaving her.

Staring out into the night she
began to pray, thanking God for bringing Wyatt back to her and begging Him to help her find a way to be worthy of his love again.

Wyatt woke with a start, his heart racing as he looked around the unfamiliar room in a panic, trying to identify what had awoken him. Then he heard it again, a soft feminine whimper that had him vaulting over the side of the bed, fearing that somehow Michelle had been hurt during the night. The sun had just begun to break over the horizon, giving him more than enough light to see Michelle, and as soon as he did, his heart broke all over again at the sight of his formidable Mistress reduced to…this.

The sight of the restraint on her ankle shamed him, made him feel like an abusive asshole, but he had
to stop himself from removing it. He needed to be strong, not for himself, but for her. He knelt next to her, smoothing her hair off her sweaty face, stroking her until her soft cries ceased and she settled. Sometime during the night the blanket had shifted off of her and as he counted the bumps of her spine his stomach clenching at how frail she’d become during his absence. Yuki had kept him up to date on Michelle, but he had no idea how bad she was until he saw her last night, looking ready to faint at any moment. Then when he’d seen her nude he was pretty sure he was the one that almost passed out at how thin she was.

Unable to find a release for her inner pain, she’d turned to torturing herself
, and he hated her a little bit for that but hated himself more that he’d let Petrov keep them apart this long.

Wyatt knew
logically he needed the time apart to get his own life in order, but he feared that Michelle had paid a hard price for his absence. While he was busy learning to Top, going through daily therapy, and starting his custom furniture making business, Michelle had basically sealed herself away from the world in her house. It had killed him to not be able to reach out to her, to reassure her that he was coming back, but he’d held strong for her. He just never thought she wouldn’t be strong enough to hold out for him.

For a moment he wavered with his course of action for the days to come, but that was his heart talking, the part of him that wanted to coddle Michelle and serve her. His brain knew Michelle needed more than his love, she need
ed his determination and his help. It would kill him to have to maintain this façade of cold indifference, but Michelle had to feel like she was earning her way back into his life, that she was paying the price for betraying him. Even the fact that she’d gone to Petrov for a beating no longer bothered him as much. Wyatt had spent a great deal of time learning not only the mechanics of BDSM, but the psychology as well. He’d talked to dozens of people who had been in the lifestyle for years and came to realize that while Michelle’s need for penance was unconventional, it wasn’t unique. Many people used pain as an outlet for emotions they could no longer control, feelings that threatened to drown them. It was just such a foreign concept to Wyatt that it had taken him awhile to get it, but now that he did, he knew what he needed to do.

But, first things first. He had to get Michelle physically healthy again before he could start to help her rebuild their relationship on solid ground.

After giving her a soft kiss on her cheek, wishing he could do a whole lot more, he went to the dresser on the other side of the room and looked through the drawers for Michelle’s exercise clothing. Yuki had sent him a box of Michelle’s things, and he selected a pair of silky pink jogging shorts and a worn grey t-shirt along with thick socks and functional underwear including a sports bra. He set her clothing on the bed then took out her running shoes and put them on the mattress next to her clothes.

She slept t
hrough all of it, her soft breathing the only sound in the room.

He stared at her f
or a long time and watched her sleep. She was beautiful beyond compare even in her brittle state. Her long, golden hair spread out around her, and he promised himself that if he could get through today without cracking he would give himself the pleasure of brushing it tonight. Yes, he was supposed to be her Dom, but his heart wasn’t really in it. The only reason he was capable of the hardships he was about to put her through was because by doing this he was serving her. It didn’t make sense, but that was the truth of the matter. In his heart he knew she needed this, needed his tough love, so he would endure when all he wanted to do was fall to his knees before her and worship her, to make her smile, to make her laugh until that strength that he so loved managed to rise above the depression that had overtaken her life.

He took a deep breath and put his game face on, knowing that by the end of the day she was going to be calling him every dirty name in the book.

“Sapphire! Get your lazy ass out of your rack and get the fuck up!”

It did his heart good to watch her immediately scramble to her feet while she frantically scanned the room with a look of fear as she tried to figure out where she was.

He hadn’t lost his touch as a drill sergeant after all
.

When her gaze landed on him she blinked, then scowled and opened her mouth before shutting it so quick she almost amputated her tongue.

Keeping his expression cold, giving her his best ‘don’t fuck with me’ face, he nodded to the bed. “Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

He left before she could answer and went downstairs to the kitchen where he took a carton of eggs out of the fridge then started to make breakfast. Before he’d managed to pour the scrambled eggs
mixed with high calorie cheese into the pan on the stove Michelle appeared, her legs still beautiful despite the lack of their usual muscular tone. She must have found the package of hair bands he’d left on the dresser because her hair was pulled back from her face, making her blue eyes look enormous in the morning light.