Author: Tiffany Reisz

“If you call him…if you tell him, then he’ll decide. Yes or no, it’ll be on him. I can’t do that to him. I can’t make him make this decision.”

She remembered the cold, hard certainty that she’d felt at that moment, the certainty that letting Søren decide would be a mistake. If he told her to keep it, it would ruin their life together. Twenty-seven years old…a job in a bookstore that paid almost nothing, and she was the mistress of a Catholic priest. Not ideal conditions for raising a child. But if he said to end it…a Catholic priest…she couldn’t let him make that decision. She had to do it. She had to do it alone. Not for her sake, but for his.

“You ever heard of the Fortunate Fall, Angel?” Nora asked, coming to the present yet again.

Michael shook his head.

“It’s a theological concept that Adam and Eve in the Garden were supposed to eat the fruit. That they were supposed to fall. That it was God’s plan all along. Søren thinks it’s bullshit. I’m inclined to disagree. That day when I had to make that decision without him… You have to understand, Angel, your priest made all my decisions for me and had for almost ten years. He owned me. He owned my body. I didn’t cut my hair without getting his permission.”

Michael whistled. “That’s intense.”

“Welcome to the world of being owned. You’ll like it. Until you hate it,” she said and winked at him. “Søren…I loved him too much to force him to make this decision for me. Either choice would break his heart. So for the first time in years, I made my own decision. I didn’t want to lose Søren and what we had. I couldn’t for one second imagine bringing up a child in the world I lived in—threesomes with Søren and Kingsley, parties at S&M clubs, slave auctions. Not a family-friendly atmosphere in our world. I went to the doctor, got the magic pills and took them. And the second I took them, it was like the Fortunate Fall. I had tasted the fruit of knowledge…but not of good and evil. The knowledge of freedom, of making my own decisions. And it tasted so sweet it scared me. I went to the rectory and waited for Søren. He came home and found me on his bathroom floor in absolute agony. I spent a lot of time on bathroom floors that week.”

“Did it hurt?”

Nora wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Yes, Angel, it hurt like fuck. And in the midst of a horrible cramp, your priest found me. I told him everything immediately. It all came out in one big rush. The antibiotics and the pregnancy and Kingsley and how I loved him too much to make him decide. Oh, my God, I’ll never forget the look on his face when I told him what I’d done, told him why I was in a ball of agony on his bathroom floor.”

“What? Was he angry?”

Nora reached out and took Michael’s hand in hers.

“No…he looked at me and…” She stopped to take a breath. “He said, ‘Little one, I’m so sorry…’ And he’d never looked at me before with such love or such compassion. He wasn’t angry at all. The opposite really. Goddammit, he’s a good priest, isn’t he?”

Michael bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah. He really is. The best.”

“He wrapped me up in those crazy-strong arms of his and held me close to his chest. And then he gave me the one order he’s ever given me that I couldn’t obey.”

“What?”

Nora smiled.

“He ordered me to marry him.”

Michael actually gasped and Nora laughed at his shock.

“Yes. Romantic, isn’t he? Well, we kinksters can never do anything the normal way. I think he thought that’s what I needed—more supervision, more time with him. He said he would leave the priesthood and we would get married. Nothing like this would ever happen again. I would never have to go through anything like this alone ever again.”

“And you said no?”

“I said no. And then he got angry. I wasn’t afraid of him. I’ve never in my life been afraid of him. But I couldn’t stay, not a minute longer. What he offered, I wanted it so much I could taste it. But I had that other taste on my tongue, the taste of freedom. So I got up and walked out. And when I couldn’t walk anymore, I crawled. And your priest didn’t see me again for over a year.”

“A year?” Michael repeated in shock.

“A year. I found a place to hide out. A place he couldn’t follow. And believe me, he tried. And after a year there I went back to the city and back to Kingsley. And we buried Eleanor Schreiber in the past, and Nora Sutherlin was born to take her place.”

Michael smiled. “But Eleanor didn’t die.”

“Shh…” Nora covered his mouth with her finger. “Don’t tell.”

For a few moments they both sat in silence. The sun had set and the lawn had come to life with a thousand yellow fireflies.

“Do your regret it?” Michael asked, his voice no louder than the lightning bugs.

“What? Not having Junior Kingsley or not marrying Søren?”

“Both?”

Nora sighed heavily and shook her head. Leaning forward she pressed her lips to Michael’s and gave him a deep, long, slow kiss. He moaned into her mouth and Nora smiled as she pulled back.

“Neither,” she whispered.

Michael gave a rueful laugh.

“So you don’t even wonder?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted, possibly for the first time ever out loud. “Junior Kingsley would be about seven years old now.”

“That’s how old Owen is.”

Nora ran a hand through her hair and tucked it behind her ear. Owen Perry—wavy black hair like hers, smart, weird—every time she saw him, she remembered.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it? But like I said, no regrets. Life’s too short for regrets.”

“Do you regret anything?” Michael asked and Nora’s stomach tightened.

Turning her head she saw Wesley standing before her, his big brown eyes rimmed with unshed tears as she told him goodbye.

“Nothing,” she lied.

She stood up and patted Michael on top of his head. “But that’s not what we were supposed to be talking about. Didn’t bring you up here to talk about all the gruesome shit in my past.”

“Better than talking about all the gruesome shit in my future when my father finds out about Griffin. Nora, if Father S doesn’t want me and another guy together, then maybe—”

“Angel, Father S has no problem with you being with a guy. He’s worried that Griffin won’t take care of you the way he thinks dominants should take care of their subs. Griffin’s a well-trained partier, an ex-drug addict. He put the play in playboy. And he and Søren hate each other for no reason either of them will tell me....”

Michael looked at her with guilty eyes.

“Michael…you know, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer. Nora cupped his chin and forced him to look at her.

“Angel, tell me. This is an order from your mistress.”

“It’s not fair that you can do that.”

Nora grinned at him. “I know.”

“Griffin…” Michael began and stopped. “He…and you…”

“Oh, Lord Almighty,” Nora groaned. Michael didn’t have to say another word. So Griffin had actually been in love once upon a time. With her of all people. Maybe one of these days she’d figure out why every man in her life had such terrible taste in women. “Griffin went to Søren about me, didn’t he? I should have known. Søren and Kingsley don’t believe any dominant should lay a hand on a submissive until he or she has experienced pain. And apart from bar fights, tattoos and hangovers, Griffin hasn’t. I guess that’s about to change tonight.”

“Father S is going to hurt Griffin?”

“Don’t worry. He loves you. He can take it.”

“You think Griffin loves me?”

Nora cupped his face and caressed his bottom lip with her thumb.

“I’m certain of it. After tomorrow, I think you will be too.”

Michael blushed crimson. “Oh, God. Me and Griffin… We’re going to be…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“He’s going to fuck you blind the second he gets a chance. Hope you’re okay with that.” Nora grinned fiendishly.

Groaning, Michael collapsed down onto the window seat. Nora could only laugh at him.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t dying for it,” Nora said. She picked up her laptop bag and pulled a folder out of it, a folder that contained the single most beautiful photograph she’d ever seen in her life. No matter where she went, she always took the photo with her. She’d been given a copy with the express orders to show it to no one ever. And she’d followed those orders to the letter…until now.

“Nora…me and Griffin? Seriously? I want it…I do. I want it so much it hurts. But I just can’t. Father S—”

Nora opened the folder that contained the photograph and held it out in front of Michael’s face without a word. Silently Michael stared at the image in front of him. Watching his eyes, Nora saw his expression change from curiosity to understanding.

Michael finally wrenched his eyes from the photograph and looked at Nora, who stood subtly smiling at him.

“Feel better now?” she asked.

Michael nodded wide-eyed at her.

“Much.”

23

The sound of falling water roused Michael from his sleep. Rain pelted the roof above him and the window next to him. Usually he loved the sound of rain, especially a morning rain in the summer. But now his first thought upon waking was of Griffin on his motorcycle, wet roads and screeching tires.

So this is love, he decided. Love was fucking terrifying.

Even awake Michael kept his eyes closed, not wanting to face the morning yet. He’d spent all night asleep in the bay window seat curled up in Nora’s lap like a kid. Last night he’d been certain he’d never fall asleep, but Nora had started running her fingers through his hair and humming softly, humming the quietest of lullabies. The song and her soothing touch had calmed his racing mind and finally allowed him some rest.

He heard footsteps in the hall, familiar footsteps, and his heart soared at the sound. But he kept his eyes closed, kept pretending to sleep.

“Welcome home,” Nora whispered. “You survive the night?”

Michael felt a new hand on his back, larger than Nora’s.

“Barely,” came Griffin’s voice, also in a whisper. “Your priest… I have no words.”

“Did he kick your ass? No, don’t tell me. I’ll be too jealous if he did.”

“He didn’t,” Griffin said, and Michael heard the surprise in his voice, the grudging respect. “We talked.”

“A talk with Søren? I think I’d rather take a beating.”

“It hurt worse than a beating. But I think I needed it.”

“So what’s the verdict with you and my Angel?”

“The verdict is…”

Michael felt Griffin’s hand slide from his lower back to his neck. Griffin’s fingers dug gently into his skin.

“Enough faking, Mick. Let’s go.” The gentleness of Griffin’s touch gave way to force, and Michael found himself being hauled to his feet.

“Griffin, it’s seven in the damn morning,” Nora said, yawning luxuriously.

“Good. We’ll need all day to make up for lost time.” Griffin’s fingers dug into Michael’s skin. “Excuse us.”

Michael’s heart raced, his hands went numb and every drop of blood in his body made a beeline for his hips.

“Excused.” Nora waved them off as Griffin hauled Michael toward the door.