Never run blind. It was a lesson he had always failed. Sometimes blind was all a man could be when he was filled with a blind rage fueled by a blind hate because of a blind love. He continued fastening the buttons on his shirt, staring at her closed bedroom door. He wondered if she would ever come out again, terrified of how she would look at him when she finally did.
His head throbbed as he set the alarm and walked out to his car, a constant reminder of his failure. It was as if his blood was ceaselessly pounding the word through his temples, refusing to allow him to forget. It had been three days since he had ventured outside, but that was all the time he could allow himself to heal. He needed to find the monster, chase him out of hiding then rip him apart. He was certain he could do it, and it wouldn't be the first time he had done it. He thought he never would again, that he had left that part of himself in a country far away where questions were never asked. But it was still a part of himself, no matter how hidden it had remained all these years, waiting for a reason to resurface.
From the warmth of his car he watched the people walking along the street, bundled up in coats and scarves, the midday sun too shrouded in clouds to warm the air. He parked along the curb outside the office building, hoping to obtain what he needed. People glanced at his face as he walked by, quickly looking away to pretend their behavior wouldn't be noticed.
He pulled open the door, peering at the name Aiden Byron, M.D. printed in black letters over the clear glass. The receptionist looked up from her computer as he approached, adjusting her glasses as she tried not to stare at his bruised skin. She wore a familiar thin chain around her neck with a circle in the middle, homage to the masters who owned her, her smile telling him she assumed he was one of them. "Can I help you, Sir?"
"I have an appointment with Dr. Byron. And it's just Ray."
"Oh," she said, blinking a few times in surprise. Her fingers moved swiftly over her keyboard before her eyes moved back to his. "He'll be out shortly. You can have a seat—"
"Ray," a deeper voice interrupted hers, "come on back."
He turned to see his old friend smiling at him from the doorway. Thirteen years had passed since the day they first met, and it still seemed strange to see him wearing slacks and button-up shirts, neither of which were covered in camouflage.
Aiden's hand locked into his, his eyes assessing the purple covering his face. "I can't wait to hear this story."
He followed him down the hallway to the second room on the right then sat down on the examination table. "I need a favor."
Aiden picked at the bandage, peeling it away from his head. He squinted as he stared at the wound. "Looks good. They did a good job stitching it. Shouldn't scar too bad."
"I need you to give me a release so I can go back to work."
Aiden took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. "What happened?"
"I got hit in the head with a pipe."
"When?"
"Three days ago."
"You have a concussion?"
"I need to go back to work." He didn't have time to be lectured about the same concerns he'd already heard at the emergency room. "If I'm not there, nobody else will make searching for the fucking rapist stalking Mistress Natalia a priority."
"Mistress Natalia?" Aiden's eyebrow curved up along with the corner of his mouth. "I think I've seen her before. Blonde? Perfect legs? Ass even I wouldn't mind worshipping at for a little while, right before I reddened it with my hand?"
His muscles tensed at the thought of someone striking her perfect skin, even in jest. "All you doms are the same. You look at a woman like nothing more than bits and pieces of meat. Is that why they named your house Château de Gourmandise?"
Aiden smiled and leaned back against the counter, hooking his hands over the edges. "Your dommes are the same way. I was there on Monday Funday, though I doubt you saw me. Clearly I gave a card to the right man. I'd have been tapping out within the first ten minutes."
He laughed, the movement making his head throb even worse, reminding him there would be no reprieve from his repeated failures. The smile faded from his lips as quickly as it had covered them. For three years he had clawed at the walls surrounding her, stripping them away piece by piece, doing whatever he could to prove himself worthy, more worthy than the ones who came before him. But now he was beginning to believe she was right all along. He wasn't worthy, and never would be. "She hates me. She won't even come out of her room."
"She doesn't hate you. She's afraid," Aiden replied, turning around to dig through the cabinet next to him. "There's nothing more terrifying for a woman than to see her man weakened."
"I don't know what to do." He shook his head and reached up to run his hands over his face, pulling them away when pain shot through his skin. "It seems like he's always there, but I can't find him."
Aiden set a box of bandages down on the counter and turned back towards him. "Why are you hunting him if you already know he'll come to you?"
He nodded, biting into his lip as he realized his greatest mistakes.
"It's one thing to be hunted when you're unaware you're being hunted, but prey has a lot of power when it knows the hunter is coming."
"And so we wait..." He repeated the words Aiden had told him many times as they crouched, hidden in the silence of the scenery, the rabbits shifting into lions as they waited for the wolves to descend.
"Dominant or submissive, it doesn't matter. We are men." Aiden's eyes darkened as they locked on his, his voice lowering as he pulled his shoulders back. "When our goddess is threatened, we rise up. We fight. We destroy. We protect what is ours. It's in our blood."
*************
She stared into the dresser mirror, her fingers running through her destroyed hair. She had heard the house alarm beeping, but she couldn't drag herself out of bed. The strands hadn't faded back to their natural state in her sleep. The nightmare hadn't ended the minute the sun rose in the east.
Her eyes were now as brown as the darkest parts of her hair. The green and gold had disappeared into hiding along with the rest of her. All that was left was varying shades of brown. Some if it was dark, some of it was light, none of it looked good against her pale skin.
She dragged herself into the shower, shivering under the hot water. No matter how hard she scrubbed, the brown didn't disappear. As she dried herself off she heard the alarm beeping once again. She pulled out her hair dryer and curling iron, though she thought shaving her head may be a better solution.
A soft knock tapped against the bedroom door, the sound bringing tears to her eyes. "Can I come in, Mistress?"
"No." She turned on the blow dryer, not wanting to hear the silence following her rejection. She bent over, flipping her hair over her head. The heat blew over her scalp, whipping through the camouflaged strands. She flipped her head back up, freezing when the mirror refused to lie to her. She grabbed her curling iron, twisting the strands around the barrel as Ben had twisted them around his fist. Even soft waves couldn't cover the damage she'd done.
Maybe a short dress would distract him, make her hair appear as one color, one singular shade of dull brown. She went to the closet, the emptiness reminding her it wasn't her own. Her eyes moved to her stretch pants and sweatshirt, still in a heap on the floor next to the bed. She sighed and pulled them on, refusing to glance in the mirror again as she pulled open the bedroom door.
She followed the sound of his movement into the kitchen. Her thumb pressed over her fingers as she made her way down the hall, the pop not quieting the pounding of her heart. But the beating in her chest stopped the minute she turned the corner. His eyes went from the screen of his phone straight to her hair. She stood frozen, waiting for him to speak. His lips never moved, his body remaining rocked back against the counter.
"Is it bad?" she finally asked, looking away before he could speak the answer.
He walked to where she stood then got to his knees, his lips pressing into the top of her bare foot. "You're my goddess. Blonde hair. Brown hair. No hair."
She reached down, letting the tears fall where they would as she grabbed his hair and pulled him to his feet. Her hands carefully grasped at his injured head, her lips gently pressing into the purple wounds covering half his face. She climbed into his arms, wrapping her legs around him. Her body pressed against his, not even a breath could slide between them, but it still wasn't close enough. "I wish I had your key," she whispered, the words a mere thought escaping her lips.
"Don't say that or I may just cut the lock off."
She pulled her head back, breaking away from his hunting mouth. "Cut the lock off?"
His head moved forward, his lips brushing against her own. "What's wrong? I'm only joking."
She unwrapped her legs from his waist, letting her feet find the floor beneath them. "Joking you have the ability to cut it off or joking you will cut it off?"
His hands reached for her, his head shaking as she pulled farther away.
"Answer my question."
His teeth bit into his lip, his eyes moving to the floor. "I can cut it off, Mistress."
She took another step back, her mind trying to process his words. Everything had been a lie. The bars protecting her were a lie. The prison holding him hostage, keeping him on his knees for her was a lie. He could take it off whenever he wanted, and was prepared should the occasion arise.
"Mistress, please," he begged as she turned toward the hallway.
She ignored him and continued to her bedroom, her mind suddenly at war with her heart. How could she believe it was a true prison? She shut the bedroom door and locked it, then sat down on the bed.
She glanced at the white paneled wood, wondering if she would hear his soft knock on the other side. He had always knocked so gently, not a demand but a question, a hope to be answered. And he would patiently wait for the door to be opened, even when he could easily have kicked it in.
"What are you doing here?" she had asked the first time she swung open her teal door to find him standing on the other side.
