The feel of lips pressing against mine wakens me, my eyes opening and Jackson’s right there, looking down at me, full of sympathy and apology, but it is too late. How could he not even reply to the text? “Sorry. Before you shout, just hear me out, please.” I stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. “I had planned something or rather, booked something today. It was not meant to take long, a couple of hours. I left my phone in the car. I am a jerk. I know I am.” He looks at me. “All I can do is apologise. The whole point was I would go there, find out other options for my Mum and come back. I was meant to be back within a couple of hours. As I got in the car and saw that picture, I realised I fucked up, totally fucked up Alena, and I am sorry.” I want to say I hate him, that his apology means nothing, that he hurt me, scream at him and hit him for making me feel like he doesn’t love me. I just don’t get how it could take all day. “I remember the

Lying next to me, his fingers trail around my body. “I have to admit, I fucking love looking at the marks on your body.” For the first time, I look down, my eyes going wide. There are bite marks all over my skin, red marks from where the whip had hit me, and cuts from the rope. While I should be disgusted, I smile. It will be a reminder of tonight, a reminder of us being totally free to explore but, mostly, it shows that I am not free for anyone else to have. His hands begin rubbing the cream on my body like he always does, quietly just watching me as he does. “I want to collar you.” His words throw me. I look up, knowing what he means, but unsure how it will work. I read about collaring, a ritual or ceremony where the Dom collars his Submissive, Slave or Brat. It shows she is his, and it symbolises the transfer of power from a submissive to a Dom. While I have no issues with this, I’m not so keen on wearing the collar around my own family, so before I agree, I need to know how mu

Marcus is standing behind me, his arms wrapping around me. “Alena, are you okay? You sounded like you were being murdered.” My body trembles next to his. It felt so real, so, so real. I need to call Jackson. I need to make sure he is okay. Walking back into my room, I grab the phone and dial Jackson’s number, waiting for him to answer, but he doesn’t. Why isn’t he answering? Is this it? Has he gone for good? Will she come for the girls? “Alena, what are you doing? If you’re calling Jackson, there is no point. He is in meetings until after 2 am. You’re safe and fine. I am here.”  “I just want to make sure Jackson is safe. That is all.” My fingers start redialing his number. Marcus sits next to me on the bed, his hand clasping around mine.   “He is fine, totally safe Alena. He was in a meeting when I left. He is with loads of people. It was just a dream.” I wish his words comfort me. I need Jackson. I need him to hold me and tell

“Wake up Alena.” His hands are pushing harder on my chest. I have too much to live for. This is not going to take me after everything else. This is not how I will die! I start screaming. I am trying to pull myself back down, down to my body. My body jolts, eyes opening wide. I am lying on the pavement, Marcus looking over me, as I take a breath. Had I just died? “Alena.” Marcus’ voice makes me realise how real this is. His eyes are full of panic as he pulls me farther away from the car as we watch it explode. That could have been me! I feel fine. I’m not in pain, just shock. I could have died. I had died. I drove while drunk. These are country roads which is a good thing because, had it been a busy road, anyone could have gotten hurt.   “How the hell did you survive that? We need to get you to the hospital.” My head begins shaking. He is not taking me to the hospital. I feel totally fine. “No hospital.” My words are quiet. “A

We get to the hospital and the worst part is sitting for hours, waiting. I just want to go home. This is time in my life. Time that I won’t get back, and more than likely, it will lead to nothing, just me being told everything is okay and to go home. The nurse finally calls my name. Sitting in the room waiting for the doctor to start, I feel stupid and like I’m wasting their time. “So, I hear you were in a car accident? I need to ask some questions about the crash first if that is possible?” I nod, waiting for his questions.   “Okay. Were you wearing a seatbelt?” “Yes.” I nod. I am not that stupid, and to me, it is a pointless question. It won’t change the damage caused, knowing if I did or not. “Good. Did the airbag go off okay?”  “Yes.” These questions really are stupid in my eyes and a waste of time. “What happened? Did the car slide? Flip? If it flipped, how many times?” I can’t remember that. I know it slid