Page 106 of Filthy Dirty Dom

“Come for me when you’re ready.”

Leslie hesitated. Finally, she stepped up to him, then took a cautious swipe at him with the knife that was laughable.

“Again,” Alex said.

Her next move was just as tentative.

Her caution gnawed at him, conjuring visions of her vulnerability in the face of an actual threat, and her body, limp and lifeless. It struck a terror in him he hadn’t known before.

"Leslie," he commanded, his voice sharper than he intended. "You have to do whatever you can to protect yourself. You can't worry about hurting someone, so don't worry about hurting me."

"Of course I'm going to worry about you," she retorted. “So maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.”

"No. It is a good idea. One you brought up, so the possibility of someone coming at you with a knife is on your mind. Imagine I'm someone trying to hurt you," he insisted. "Come at me with the knife. Cut me."

The tension in the room increased, a taut wire ready to snap. Leslie simply stared at him, her green eyes reflecting her inner turmoil. “Cut you?” she said, horrified.

The room seemed smaller to Alex, the ancient stone walls closing in as the tension ratcheted higher. “Yes.”

"No!" she cried, her eyes wide and horrified. He saw the fear there, the uncertainty, the rejection of the reality he was forcing upon her.

He wanted to reassure her, to pull her close and tell her everything would be alright. But he couldn't. Not when the specter of Nico's lifeless body haunted his every waking moment. The stark reality of their situation overwhelmed him, the fear of losing Leslie drowning out every other thought.

Images of her lying still and cold, like Nico, hammered at him, a relentless assault on his sanity. The thought of her in harm’s way, of a knife in the hands of an enemy carving into her beautiful, delicate skin, was unbearable.

“Leslie,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. His eyes, he knew, were mirroring his fear, but he didn’t care. This was too important. “You need to know what it's like to make someone bleed. To feel what it’s like to pierce someone's skin.”

Her eyes grew even wider. "Alex, I—"

“Do it to me,” he clipped out. “Then you’ll be prepared.”

His heart hammered against his ribs, his blood pulsing loudly in his ears. He watched her struggle with the reality of his words, saw the tremble of her hands, the terror in her eyes.

He knew what he was asking of her. He knew the price it could exact on her soul.

But he also knew the cost of ignorance, of unpreparedness.

He had seen it. Felt it. It was a cost he would pay any price to prevent Leslie from experiencing.

He wasn’t sure when he’d fully fallen in love with her, just that it had happened long before they’d left New York. He needed her to survive, not just for her sake, but for his own. His world without her, he realized, would be a far bleaker place than any he had known.

He held his breath, waiting.

"No," she stated again, her voice unwavering despite the fear in her eyes.

He watched as her grip on the knife went lax as if she was repulsed by its very existence. But he needed her to understand, needed her to be ready for the worst-case scenario. And so, he made the choice for her.

With a swift movement, he caught her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers in a grip that was both firm and gentle. He brought the blade to his neck, pushing slightly until the sharp tip pierced his skin.

Her gasp echoed through the room, her eyes wide and her body tensed in shock. He held her gaze, the fear in her eyes slicing through him more painfully than any blade could.

"Alex..." she whispered, her voice shaky.

"Don’t worry about hurting me," he told her, forcing his voice to remain steady, his gaze never leaving hers. His heart was pounding wildly, each throb a painful reminder of what he was asking her to do, of the danger she was in. "I deserve it."

The words hung heavy in the air between them. A confession. An admission of his guilt, of the darkness he had embraced, of the life he had chosen. A life he had never wanted for her. A life he was now training her for.

With his own blood trickling down his neck, he held Leslie's gaze, willing her to understand, to see past her fear. This was their reality now. This was the cost of survival. And he would pay any price, endure any pain, to ensure her safety.

---