Page 53 of Lesson In Forgiveness

There wasn’t going to be snot and tears and sniveling apologies.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Threatening me is rude, little tiger. Lying to me is rude—and foolish, because if anyone knows the truth about how you feel about sex, it’s me.” Thwack, thwack, thwack. “If you can’t admit the truth, the truth will admit itself when you least expect it.”

The sharp stings of his palm on her ass blossomed into fire. It sank into her flesh, burning beneath the skin, penetrating into the muscles beneath. The blows came hard and fast, not giving the pain a chance to abate before the next fell.

Feeling her eyes prick with tears, Tabitha squeezed them shut. Fingernails scraping over the couch cushions, she found a precarious hold in the fabric, and—in the way she’d taught herself as a child whenever Dominic’s training became too much to bear—let herself fall into the pain.

Instead of resisting it, she opened herself to it, becoming one with it. Drifting away, down, down, down until it consumed her fully. Once she was entwined with it, she could control it.

The thump of Grit’s hand reverberated through her, inconsequential now. She heard the rhythmic clap, felt the pressure on her neck where his other hand pinned her down.

Even when the pressure released and the spanking stopped, she continued to float in the heat. Away from the inanity of small talk and onesies and any notion that she could be normal.

Her obsession with Grit had led her here, but this wasn’t her life. She wasn’t designed for cozy afternoons with friends, watching movies, and dabbling in the BDSM lifestyle. There was no place for her here, no future with this man or the people he associated with on all fronts of his life.

Blood and death were her calling. From the moment she was born, she’d been forced to conform to Dominic’s rules. Being normal wasn’t one of those rules—being exceptional was, and by God, she was exceptional in the art of murder.

“…passed out?”

“No, this is different.” Someone peeled her eyelid open, blinding her peaceful world with ugly light. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s home.” Fingers probed the side of her neck. “Pulse is fine, maybe a little fast. Skin’s warm, slightly damp. Pupils are reacting normally.”

Oh, there was that word again. Nothing about her was normal, didn’t they get that? They were sheltering a wolf in their midst, one who couldn’t be tamed, and just because she was wearing the damn unicorn onesie, they seemed to have forgotten she possessed both teeth and claws.

“Disassociation?”

“Is she prone to that?”

“I found her in the bathtub, not dissimilar to this.”

“Hmm.” Elias’s dry accent became clearer, even with the noncommittal grunt. “Tell me what you need.”

“A quiet corner of the couch, some chocolate, a soda. Last time, she was communicative, but this… she just needs to feel safe.”

Her belly lurched as she was swung up into a strong pair of arms. Her brain confused the motion with her drifting state. She found herself on her stomach, stretched out, with her head and shoulders braced on hard thighs.

“Oh shit, is she dead?”

Tabitha almost snorted at Callie’s question; she was all woman now, not a trace of Little in her tone.

“No, minx, she’s not dead. Grit spanked her and her brain... shorted out.”

“Oh.” The drawn out sound was full of understanding.

Bippity boppity boop, the cat sat on the stoop. She washed her paws and spread her claws, and pounced on the mouse under the house.

Goddamn it, bippity and blipped weren’t even rhyming, she thought in despair, yet her mind didn’t see any problem with using their vague resemblance to come up with a load of nonsense.

“Is she going to be okay?” Callie’s voice came closer, and fingers that weren’t Grit’s by any stretch of the imagination stroked delicately over Tabitha’s hair. “Is she hurting?”

“I don’t think so, Callie. It wasn’t a hard spanking. Sometimes when she gets overwhelmed, Tabitha switches herself off. There are a lot of memories and issues that tangle her up.” Grit sighed, his knuckles skimming over Tabitha’s cheek. “She’ll snap out of it when she’s ready. There’s no need to worry.”

The scent of popcorn wafted under her nose.

“Maybe if you tell her we have snacks, she’ll be ready?” The Little crept back into her voice. It was fascinating to listen to; the subtle nuances, the childlike hopefulness. “And she can watch whatever she wants. Even if it’s icky.”

Three low, rumbling chuckles told Callie what the Doms thought of her generosity. The woman was pretty much a piece of candy dipped in honey and coated in extra sugar, she was so fucking sweet.

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