Page 88 of Watch Me Burn
“Freedom. He takes all the control away from me, and somehow that feels like freedom. With him, I don’t have to think or make decisions or worry about anything except feeling. He makes those choices for me.”
Damien nods. “And that’s what you want? To be controlled?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I rake a hand through my hair with a sigh. “Not in every part of my life. Just in the bedroom. And I never thought I’d like something like that, but with him it’s different. It’s not about being weak or submissive. It’s about trust. About letting someone else carry the weight for a while.”
“And you trust him? This man who comes to you at night?”
“Completely.”
There’s no hesitation in my voice, and Damien’s expression shifts. The lines around his eyes and mouth soften.
“But you can’t have a life with him.”
“No. He’s not available for that.”
“Why not?”
“He can’t be part of my daylight world. What we have exists in shadows.”
Damien studies my face. “That must be lonely.”
The observation cracks me open. A fissure splits through my chest because he’s right. “Yes. Sometimes it is.”
“And yet you continue seeing him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when I’m with him, I feel more alive, more myself, than I ever have before. Even if it’s only in the dark. Even if it can’t last.”
“And what about us, Luna? What do I make you feel?”
The question, though quiet, is loaded with meaning. I look at him, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the intensity in his blue-gray eyes, and the way he holds himself with that carefully controlled power.
“Like I could build something real with you.”
“But?”
“But I can’t give you all of me when part of me belongs to someone else.”
“Even if that someone else can never give you everything you need?”
“Even then.”
He nods. “Who is he, Luna? Really?”
“I don’t know.”
The admission costs me. It sounds pathetic coming from a woman like me.
“Sometimes I think I do, but it's foolish.” I tilt my head and study him. When I look at him like this in the daylight, in all his polish, I only see Damien. “Sometimes I think I’m falling in love with someone who doesn’t fully exist outside of my bedroom.”
“But you don’t think that’s what this is?”
“No. What I feel for him is real. What he makes me feel is real. Even if I can’t have all of him.”
Damien’s hand rises to cup my cheek. His thumb traces the path of moisture I hadn’t noticed escaping. The touch is so gentle, my chest aches.
