His head sunk. He looked cowed. “Of course you’re enough for me, Cerise. And yes, I said love and I meant it. Everyone needs love, even a creature like me.”
“Oh don’t drop that bullshit on me now. That vampire self-loathing crap. We were doing just fine before you said those words, and we’re doing fine now. Except in the spanking department.”
He took a step away from me, and tore his eyes from mine. “You really think this is about inadequacy? If only you’d open up to me more, we could talk about things like this without you flying off the handle. Let me in.”
I threw my hands in the air. “I’ve given you what you’ve wanted up until now—can’t you just let things happen naturally?” Part of me wanted to go along with it, to discuss becoming a vampire, but how could I do that without losing the upper hand?
He pointed his finger at me. “This is what I’m saying, Cerise! Just let things happen naturally! Let our relationship evolve. If you’re so thrilled with what we’ve got going, why won’t you consider taking the next step? Let’s start to talk more. Maybe once you’ve buried your demons you’ll be fine with yourself and we can discuss the long term.”
That stopped my breath.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘be fine with yourself’?”
He met my eyes once more. “You have baggage, Cerise. Make things right in your life. Unburden yourself from your past. Enjoy life. Then, if what your subconscious told me last night is true, then I can help you enjoy death.”
I blinked at his words.
William uncrossed his arms, opening his posture boldly. He meant business.
“My life is fine, thank you. Now will you come down from that high horse and talk to me for real? What is this really about?”
He groaned and plopped into a chair. “You make no move to commit in any way toward me aside from our Domme/sub relationship, and I know you want more. I can feel it in every touch, every conversation. What’s more is that you won’t share more of your past with me, not even that silly recipe box. I’ve shared the journals from my entire life with you, and you won’t even let me peek into your past scenes. You know you can trust me, right?”
I sat next to him, measuring my anger and tempering it with sympathy. I really hadn’t given much in this relationship. “I’m commitment shy in the traditional sense. I’ve never had a good rapport with either parent, and they hated each other. Let’s just say I have no role models in the healthy relationship department. So no, I don’t want to bring that into this.”
He looked at the floor. “Then we have different ideas about where this is going.”
I swallowed hard. “I guess so,” I whispered.
“I’m going into work for a bit,” he said, and left without another word.
As I sat on the couch, flipping through magazines, I thought about my fear of commitment.
How tight a ring would feel around my finger. The fear of shedding my last name, part of my identity.
And ultimately, these thoughts led back to Brent.
Brent Sorenson and I were together for a long time.
He had put together countless scenes for me, and while they weren’t as extravagant as William’s, they were certainly impressive.
His last scene, however, was the deal breaker.
I came home to the entire house lit by a dozen paper lanterns. Bouquets of white gardenias and roses filled the house and made it smell like a spring garden.