“You keep telling yourself that, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t perpetually play your game with no end or promise in sight. My heart isn’t in it anymore, and is that what you really want? An unwilling player?”
“I want you…” he croaked out, the torn look on his face the most heartrending thing she had ever seen.
Her hand touched the knob and she leaned against the door for a moment as she tried to gather strength. “We’ll always have each other, just not the way we want.”
“Stay and play my game a little longer, Peach. Just a little longer…” His voice sounded distant.
What was the point in prolonging the inevitable? He didn’t want her love and she knew he would never love her in return. Not the way she deserved to be loved. Her body swayed, rife with indecision. Part of her wanted to stay and see it through…
Another flash of heat and pain suddenly shook her and she winced as tears welled up within her eyes. It was as if her own body was reminding her of Mr. Black’s cruelty. She wasn’t going to ignore her inner voice this time.
Even though she didn’t know the reasons why she loved him, she did… but she loved her sanity more. She shook her head, not only to clear her thoughts, but to signal to Victor that there was no turning back. Gripping the door knob, she turned it.
“What do you want to hear from me to get you to play again? Tell me and I’ll say it…” he demanded as he pounded a fist on the table.
The door swung open and she gave him one last poignant glance over her shoulder. He was so beautiful… so sad and so beautiful… but so tortured. “There’s nothing more you can say. I’m done playing your game. I need to love and to be loved…”
He stood but his body froze. “If this is because I used the belt on you, I won’t do that again. I promise… I know it was wrong…”
“It’s not because of that,” she choked out, knowing that he would never address her statement. “It’s because I know what we are and what we’re not.”
“I can’t change who I am…”
She heard his whispered voice over her shoulder as she stepped into warm, bright day. He could love. He could change. She knew he could do both, he just wasn’t willing to. Someday someone would come into his life that would make him want those things, but it wasn’t her. A gust of wind blew past her, drying the tears that bordered on her lashes and drowning out the sound of his agonized voice.
Victor… she whispered his name one last time before closing the door behind her.
Ten…
Nine…
Eight…
She mouthed the numbers silently, counting down in Mr. Black fashion as she lingered on the stoop, conflicted by her rapidly shifting emotions. She knew what had to be done, but still she hoped and prayed that he would come barreling through the door and sweep her up into his arms like he had so many times before.
Seven...
Six… Please come for me...
Five…
Four… Please change for me…
Three…
She touched the door knob again and almost gave in.
Two… Please change for yourself…
One.
He wasn’t coming to her and he was never going to change. She would never know all of his secrets or the pain of his childhood, or even why he loved her tears. Bereft and desolate but determined, she squared her shoulders back, pushed her chin out and walked away, staring into the sun defiantly.
Game. Over.
23: Possession
Victor was infuriated that Elsa had walked out. “I’m not broken!” he yelled into the empty room, his hands fisted at his sides. “I don’t need you to fix me!” he spat out.
Winded, he stomped up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door, enraged. Who the fuck did she think she was? This was his game. This was his house and he made the God damned rules.
He knew better than to allow himself to care for someone, but she had proven to be too difficult a challenge for him to resist his feelings. Now she was gone and he was powerless to get her back. Four weeks is all the time that had passed between them. Four tortured and blissful, fucking weeks. Infuriated with himself for having let her go and having beaten her as if she was an animal, he kicked the wooden chair that remained unmoved since they had fucked on it. The same chair he had attempted and failed to break her by making her watch Patrick.
Glancing up at his image reflected in the window, he cringed when he saw his father looking back at him. He stumbled backwards from the sickening vision. Is this what he had become? His father and his mother? He saw her reflected back in that image, too – her raging, drunken likeness.
A wave of nausea pounded against him when he recalled what he had done to Elsa and he sank onto the bed and fisted his hair. He thought he had come to terms with who he was but… he shook his head violently. He couldn’t change the past and there was no denying what was coursing through his veins. He was his sociopathic father’s illegitimate child and his mother’s bitch. He always would be and no woman, no matter how much love and light she had in her, could change that.
He stared at the overturned chair and glanced at the projector still on the nightstand. Could he really change what was in his DNA and be the man Elsa wanted? No, he couldn’t. The only thing he could do was try to make up for the cruelty he had put her through. Elsa would always belong to him and his game wasn’t over yet, no matter what she thought.
He stood up with new purpose and moved to the window. The heat of the sun energized him, giving him the strength he needed. As he stared into the sun until his eyes watered and he saw spots, there was a dark promise in his gaze. He was not only the Ruler of his Universe, but Elsa’s. She may never know, but he would always have a hand in her future. It may take years to change her course to lead her back to him, but time was something he had plenty of and it all belonged to her.
With staid calm, he descended the stairs and retrieved his phone and journal. He cued the song She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel and leaned back into the chaise with the smell of Elsa floating all around him and the words of the song that now belonged to her echoing in the living room. The tip of the pen touched the paper and he began anew.
Chapter 8.5 – Elsa, My Puppet and Muse.
She stole from me. She lied to me. She exposed me. She destroyed me utterly. She played my game and won, and in the process she renewed my faith in that unspeakable thing. She is both woman and child, strong and vulnerable, and she is mine, always, and I will have her again.
To be continued, Peach…
Other Books by Ella Dominguez
The Art of D/s Trilogy
The Art of Submission (Book 1)
The Art of Domination (Book 2)
The Art of Control (Book 3)
Becoming Sir (companion novel to the Art of D/s Trilogy)
This Love’s Not for Sale
Continental Breakfast (Continental Affair #1)
Continental Beginnings (Continental Affair #2)
Social Media
www.facebook.com/theartofsubmission
Twitter: ella_dominguez
www.elladominguez.blogspot.com
www.bondagebunnypub.com
For more books and bio: Goodreads.com