Long Slow Tease: Penance Part 11

Wyatt stood up and began to pace, the energy filling him too immense to be contained. Not being with her right now and regretting their last words tore at him. "How long is this going to take?"

"At least six months."

"No f.u.c.king way."

Petrov frowned at him. "One does not learn to be a Master overnight, it takes time."

"One month, tops."

"Not possible. Two months."

"Six weeks."

"Two months. It is impossible to do less."

"Then I'll find someone who can train me in that time."

Petrov glared at him. "You will find some amateur, some fool who will teach you all the wrong things. I will not allow it."

Wyatt gave him a cold smile. "Then it sounds like you better figure out how to do it in six weeks."

Petrov said something in a long, steady stream of Russian that didn't sound very complimentary, but Wyatt just smiled at him. "I don't need any help in the pleasing a woman department, and I won't touch another submissive s.e.xually, so that should cut down on your time."

Now Petrov exploded. "How the h.e.l.l am I supposed to do that? How in the world are you going to be able to get into the mind of a submissive without physically connecting with her?"

"I don't need to be in the mind of a submissive, just Mich.e.l.le's. I'm very good at watching and learning, Petrov a lord knows, I had to do a lot of it in the military a so if you feel it is necessary to show me some more sensual techniques then you'll just have to demonstrate them."

"Impossible! You cannot make that connection by watching."

"Come on, Petrov," Maya's soft voice came from the doorway leading to the living room, "bend a little."

The men turned as Maya stepped out and walked behind her husband, lacing her arms around his neck. "Wyatt isn't going to do anything that would hurt Mich.e.l.le, and even though I happen to agree that during normal training an emotional and physical interaction is necessary, this isn't normal. He doesn't want to earn a patch from you to put on his vest, he wants to save the woman he loves. The woman we all love, and Mich.e.l.le is not your typical submissive, in any way, shape, or form."

Petrov leaned his head back and nuzzled her arm, his love for his wife so obvious that it made Wyatt look away, feeling like he was invading their privacy. "I'm going to head back to the hotel to get my stuff."

"No," Petrov said and moved out of his wife's arms. "I will call James and have him bring it. If you see Mich.e.l.le you will not be able to resist her tears."

His heart ached at the thought of her being alone and hurting. "Can't I just say goodbye?"

"No."

Maya moved to stand next to Wyatt and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please, trust my husband. He isn't saying this to be cruel. We love Mich.e.l.le and only want the best for her, which we both agree is you. Wyatt, you haven't picked an easy woman or an easy road, but we will do everything we can to help you help your Domina. We just need a little bit of your trust."

"f.u.c.k." Wyatt stepped away from Maya and looked out over the city, wondering where Mich.e.l.le was. "Fine, have James bring my stuff. When can we begin training?"

"Right now. Follow me. There is much to show you."

Chapter 9.

Seven weeks later A cold, wet something tried to rouse Mich.e.l.le from a deep sleep, but she fought it. She didn't want to wake up, didn't want to face another day of endless pain. The only thing she wanted to do was remain in her dreams, where she could pretend that Wyatt still loved her. But the cold thing wouldn't go away, and soon it was joined by a second cold thing that nudged at her back.

She fought waking up as long as she could, trying to remain in her bed, attempting to drift back into a sleep that was more like a welcome coma, but the cold, wet things wouldn't let her. With a tired sigh she opened her eyes and found both Mud, a Rottweiler mix, and Tuba, a German Shepherd mix, staring at her. When she'd originally agreed to buy the expertly trained dogs it had been with the thought that they would act as mostly guard dogs to help Wyatt feel safe in her home. Now they were more like her lifeline than anything else.

When she continued to look at them they began to whine and for a moment emotion swirled through the depths of her depression and she reached out, gently scratching one, then the other behind the ears. She knew from experience that they wouldn't go away until she got out of bed, but it was getting harder every day to find the energy. Despite the fact that she'd slept for the last eleven hours, she felt exhausted down to her very bones. After sliding out of bed she didn't bother to open the curtains on her windows, not wanting anything to disturb what had become her hiding hole.

With Mud and Tuba basically herding her, she slowly shuffled down the stairs and headed for the kitchen, not because she wanted to eat a just the thought of food made her nauseous a but because the dogs had to eat. As she walked through the foyer she kept her gaze on the floor, not wanting to see anything that reminded her of Wyatt, but that was impossible. Everywhere she looked she could see him, her memories taking on the weight of flesh to the point where she could almost smell him. Agony seized her heart and she had to stop and lean against the fountain, waiting for the dizziness to pa.s.s.

Mud and Tuba sat anxiously at her feet, making low, whining noises.

"I'm okay, guys," she said in a voice rusty with disuse.

After shuffling into the kitchen she found Yuki waiting for her, sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of what smelled like coffee. In the fog that had become her life she hadn't realized Yuki and James would be returning today from their vacation to j.a.pan to attend a cousin's wedding. Mich.e.l.le ignored her and fed the dogs, hoping to make an escape before Yuki tried to talk to her. She didn't want to talk to anyone, she just wanted to go back to sleep, to escape the pain.

Unfortunately, when she turned to leave she found Yuki blocking the way.

"Mich.e.l.le, we need to talk."

"No, we don't," Mich.e.l.le said and tried to move around her friend while keeping her gaze on the floor.

Yuki grabbed her shoulders and made a soft, pained sound. "Jesus Christ, you're skin and bones. And you smell."

For a moment Mich.e.l.le's mind cleared and she looked at her pajamas with a slight frown, realizing she hadn't changed clothes in...days. But it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered. "Let me go."

Shaking her head, Yuki dragged Mich.e.l.le over to the table and forced her to sit. "Not until you eat something."

It was useless to argue with Yuki, and Mich.e.l.le didn't have the energy, so she just sat and stared out the window, not seeing anything as she replayed the moment when Wyatt had left her over and over again.

She had no idea how much time had pa.s.sed, but Yuki eventually shoved a bowl of what smelled like oatmeal with blueberries in it on the table before her. "Eat."

The last thing in the world Mich.e.l.le wanted to do was eat, but she dutifully picked up the spoon and took a bite, the food tasting like cardboard. Her stomach clenched in protest and she put the spoon down, pus.h.i.+ng the bowl away. "Can't."

Yuki shoved the bowl back. "Eat it."

"I can't."

With a tremor in her voice Yuki said, "Mich.e.l.le, you have to eat. Please, honey, take another bite for me."

She looked up and more pain and guilt was added to the already overwhelming darkness that used to be her heart. Yuki looked close to tears, so Mich.e.l.le tried to take another bite. As soon as she did her stomach rejected the food and she barely made it to the sink before throwing up what she'd managed to eat. Cool hands held her hair back as she vomited, then cleaned her face. Mich.e.l.le slumped to the floor, leaning back against the cabinets as her heart thundered in her chest.

On some distant level she knew she wouldn't survive much longer if she didn't start eating again. She had no desire to live, to endure the pain of existing anymore a not after what she'd seen a week ago, not after the final proof that Wyatt had truly left her.

Tuba came to her side and licked her cheek while Mud nudged her hand until she would pet him. Their open affection was a small drop of warmth in the ice flowing through her veins and she allowed herself to find a slight amount of comfort with them. Then the sound of crying reached her and she looked up to find Yuki watching her and weeping.

Though Mich.e.l.le swore she'd cried every tear in her body, new ones rose at the sight of her best friend in such distress. Poor Yuki, she'd tried so hard to put Mich.e.l.le back together again after Wyatt left, but Wyatt had taken essential pieces of Mich.e.l.le's heart and soul with him, leaving behind a husk of a woman, irreparably broken. What Yuki didn't understand was that Mich.e.l.le didn't deserve her love, didn't deserve her friends.h.i.+p. She was tainted, a burden to those around her, and she wished Yuki would leave.

"Mich.e.l.le, you have to stop doing this."

She didn't bother to answer, instead burying her face against Tuba's neck. "Go away."

"I will not go away." Yuki squatted before Mich.e.l.le then grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at the other woman. "Do you think I don't see what you're doing? Do you think I don't see that you're killing yourself?"

She blinked, trying to organize her thoughts to protest, but she was too weak to argue. "Leave me alone."

"G.o.d, Mich.e.l.le, wake up! You have to stop doing this to yourself. Wyatt wouldn't want you to suffer like this."

Anger blasted through Mich.e.l.le's body, giving her the strength to push Yuki away. "Don't say his name!"

Instead of leaving, like Mich.e.l.le hoped she would, Yuki got right back in her face. "Wyatt, Wyatt, Wyatt!"

A long, broken moan rose from deep inside Mich.e.l.le and the dogs whimpered. "Go away."

"No, I've had enough of this f.u.c.king bulls.h.i.+t. I've let you wallow in your grief and your guilt for seven weeks, and I'm f.u.c.king done watching you slowly self-destruct."

Before Mich.e.l.le could protest Yuki pulled her up by her hair. She let out a startled squawk and tried to pry her friend's hands off of her hair, but Yuki was having none of it. Without relaxing her grip one bit, Yuki dragged Mich.e.l.le into the bathroom off the mudroom and practically threw Mich.e.l.le into the tub before turning on the shower full blast. An icy rain stung Mich.e.l.le's skin and she sucked in a huge gasp of air, adrenaline rus.h.i.+ng through her and awakening her body and mind against her will. She stood and tried to leave the shower, but Yuki pushed her back in.

"You will f.u.c.king stay in there until you wash yourself! Do you hear me, Mich.e.l.le? I'll f.u.c.king drown you before I let you out."

"f.u.c.k you!" she yelled back and tried to shove Yuki out of the way, but Yuki grabbed Mich.e.l.le's t-s.h.i.+rt and jerked it over her head, trapping Mich.e.l.le in the wet fabric and making her fight to be free of it.

Once the s.h.i.+rt was off Yuki grabbed at her sweat pants. "Mother f.u.c.ker, Mich.e.l.le. I can count every one of your ribs. Look at yourself! Look at what you're doing!"

Mich.e.l.le refused to look down, but she didn't fight Yuki when she pulled off the sweatpants. Clad now only in her socks, she s.h.i.+vered convulsively beneath the cold water. Muttering to herself, Yuki adjusted the dial. When warm water cascaded over her skin, Mich.e.l.le let out a shuddering sigh. Exhaustion pulled at her and it was a struggle to remain standing upright.

"How long has it been since you've eaten anything?" Yuki grabbed a bottle of shampoo and dumped a bunch into her palm. "Sit so I can wash your hair. Don't make me fight you, Mich.e.l.le."

She sat, hugging her knees to her chest and closing her eyes while Yuki washed her hair. Memories of Wyatt taking care of her like this a.s.sailed her and she cried out her grief in great, wrenching sobs that did nothing to lessen her pain. Why was Yuki making her remember? Why couldn't her friend just leave her alone? That's all she wanted a to be left alone.

Mich.e.l.le must have said something out loud because Yuki replied in a tortured voice, "I can't leave you alone, I love you. Now how long has it been since you ate?"

"I haven't been able to eat since I saw that picture."

Yuki's hands stilled. "What picture?"

"Wyatt is dating Daniella."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

"I saw them, on the Internet."

She didn't want to confess how she searched for Wyatt all the time on the Internet, hoping for some kind of news, some picture of him. Yuki and James said that he was fine, but that's all they would say. Mich.e.l.le had been able to hold out hope that maybe he would forgive her someday, but last week she'd finally found something about Wyatt and it had broken her completely.

"What did you see?"

Mich.e.l.le lifted her head and looked over to Yuki, finding her friend kneeling next to her by the tub. The front of Yuki's dress was now soaked and she watched Mich.e.l.le with a pained expression. Guilt at upsetting her friend twisted through Mich.e.l.le, drawing her back into herself, but anger began to rise in her as she thought of the photo that had been like a knife to her soul.

"It was a picture from Daniella's art gallery. She was standing there with Wyatt who she called her 'protege'. He..." her throat closed up and her whole body ached with sorrow, "he was standing next to her with his arm around her. He was smiling at her, like he used to smile at me."

"Oh, honey, you're wrong." Yuki brushed back a strand of Mich.e.l.le's wet hair. "I'm sure he's not dating her."

Giving a bitter laugh, Mich.e.l.le pressed her forehead to her knees. "He was showing some furniture that he'd made, beautiful pieces of work, at an exhibit she was sponsoring for him. The article said there was a bidding war for his stuff, that Wyatt has the potential to be the next big thing in the art world, and that they were sure that with Danielle's help he would soon be on his way to fame and fortune. Into a wonderful future with Daniella at his side."

"That doesn't mean anything. Just that Wyatt is talented and Daniella wants to sell his work."

She looked over at Yuki. "Yeah, right. I bet he went to her after he left me, went to a Domme who deserved him."

Making a frustrated noise, Yuki said, "Stand up and wash yourself. This has gone on long enough. Either you stand up and start taking care of yourself, or I swear to G.o.d, I'll call your parents and have you committed."

"What?"

"You heard me. I won't watch you kill yourself like this, I love you too much."

The thought of her parents seeing her like this made Mich.e.l.le cringe, so she slowly stood and grabbed the bar of soap, listlessly was.h.i.+ng herself. She wanted to slip back into the comforting numbness of sleep, to just go back to her room and lay there in the darkness, remembering Wyatt, but she knew Yuki didn't make idle threats. So if she didn't want her dad coming down and putting her in some f.u.c.king hospital, maybe even the same one her mother was in, she had to play this game long enough to get Yuki to leave her alone.

After Mich.e.l.le washed to Yuki's satisfaction, Yuki dried her off like she was a child, then smoothed lotion over her body. Through it all, Mich.e.l.le just stood there and let Yuki do what she wanted, too tired to resist. Not that she really wanted to. Even though she knew she didn't deserve it, Yuki's affection helped fill the hole left by Wyatt's absence a a very tiny bit, but enough so that when they went back out into the kitchen and Yuki made her some chicken soup. Mich.e.l.le actually tried to keep it down as she ate.

Yuki sat across from Mich.e.l.le and watched her slowly sip at her soup. By the time she was finished with half the bowl she wasn't feeling physically as weak, but emotionally she was dead inside.

"Better?"

"No."

"Honey, it will get better."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

Mich.e.l.le set her spoon aside and gripped the edges of the table, struggling to keep her temper under control. "Don't tell me it's going to get better, because it isn't. Don't you understand? Every single day is worse than the day before. Every day I hurt so much I want to just crawl into bed and never wake up, but when I do wake, it's somehow worse. Every f.u.c.king day is the worst day of my life."

Yuki's voice shook as she said, "Excuse me for a moment."

Unable to face the world anymore, Mich.e.l.le covered her face with her hands, the sunlight unbearably bright and seeming to sear into her brain. A warm, wet tongue licked her toes and she dropped one of her hands to the side to pet Tuba, trying to give the dog the affection he deserved even if he was loyal to a terrible Mistress. No matter what she did, or how hard she tried, she ended up hurting those she loved. But her betrayal of Wyatt...she hated herself for it. Hated how selfish she was, hated how weak and stupid she'd been. She would do anything to take it back, to journey back in time and stop herself from making the fateful decision to see Petrov.

Her old mentor was no longer speaking to her either, and that was just another exquisite agony on top of the already crus.h.i.+ng pain. She'd tried to see him, tried to get him to tell her what had happened with Wyatt, but he repeatedly turned her away. When she'd left for Austin with Yuki and James, she hoped that Wyatt would come back, so she waited at her house for him, and waited, quitting her job and having everything she needed delivered to her. A stupid, scary part of her worried that if she left her home for one minute, that would be the time Wyatt came back to her, and if she wasn't there, he would leave again. Her rational mind knew this was foolish, but that part of her brain wasn't in control anymore.

From the foyer she heard Yuki talking to someone on the phone and caught snippets of a conversation about Yuki not giving a s.h.i.+t if someone was ready, that he was needed here, now. Mich.e.l.le vaguely wondered if Yuki was calling her dad like she'd threatened, but she found she really didn't care. It didn't matter what happened to her anymore. She'd deceived the man she loved and deserved every moment of agony she got. No matter how hard she tried, she was never good enough, perfect enough. First with Owen, then with all the people she hadn't been able to save during the war, and now with Wyatt. She found herself thinking a lot lately about the men and women she'd lost during surgery over in Afghanistan, wondering if she'd been just a little more skilled, tried just a little bit harder, could she have saved them?

The scent of blood filled her nose and she was transported back in time, up to her elbows inside a wounded Marine's guts while she tried to frantically find where the bleeding was coming from. It was the Marine who had looked like Owen. In her mind that man became Owen and she was caught up again in a vision of such realism, such intensity that she wasn't sitting in her kitchen in Austin anymore, she was back on the battlefield. She could smell the operating room, smell the blood and her own fear as she tried with everything she had to keep that man alive. On his finger had been a gold wedding band and she couldn't help but think of the family who now grieved because she couldn't find and repair his artery in time, couldn't stop the bleeding, couldn't save him. She failed, over and over again, no matter how hard she tried, no matter what she did to try and make things right, she failed.

"Mich.e.l.le!"