Page 40 of Captive Heart

He nodded calmly, even though his insides roiled and an unexpected fear that he was going about this all wrong kept pummelling his mind, causing him to second guess himself in a way he hadn't done since he'd quit his psychology practice less than twelve months after Sara died.

Jesus! He was better than this, and he desperately didn't want to misread something that might affect Melody's wellbeing. He couldn't go through that again. Even though he hadn't been involved in Sara's tragic demise, even though she had chosen to leave him and pursue a different life, the one she felt he couldn't give her, Micah still felt he should have been more aware, should have done something that might have saved her.

Should have seen the signs.

She cut off all contact with you, blocked your calls, refused to see you, the little voice of reason inside of his head insisted.

Yeah, and that should have been your first clue, the devil on his shoulder argued.

Micah shook himself, slamming the door on the memories and recriminations trying to consume him. There was a time and a place for all that, and this wasn't it. He needed to concentrate on Melody right now and possibly offer some help where it might make a difference.

Sara was gone, and no amount of criticism and self-reproach was going to change that.

"Something's clearly bothering you, though," Micah insisted. "I can't help you with it unless you talk to me about it."

Melody dropped her head and hugged herself all the tighter, looking so forlorn that Micah felt his gut clench in response.

"But you don't want me," Melody answered so quietly he had to lean forward and strain to hear her. "I'm nothing but a useless burden to you. One you feel obligated to help because you found me on your doorstep. You won't even allow me to perform the services that befit your slave."

"Melody!" Micah exclaimed. "That's not the way it is. Come here," he demanded, patting the space next to him.

Melody moved across, her head bowed and her hands folded in her lap as she sat ramrod straight with her knees pressed tight together. The fresh scent of soap and innocence wafted as she passed, capturing Micah's attention. There was no artifice in Melody, he acknowledged.

She wore her mass of luxurious hair loose, not as an enticement, but simply because she had no idea what else to do with it. Perfume, makeup, fashionable clothes, provocative wiles; she had none of those things because she had never had the opportunity to develop them.

She was beautiful in a way she didn't even realise because she’d spent so long being abused and demeaned. Convinced she had no more worth than an animal. Less even, since most people treated their pets better than Melody had been treated.

She looked so sad and forsaken, so desperate for a taste of human warmth and approval that Micah couldn't help himself. He’d been fighting his professional judgement where Melody was concerned, since the day he’d found her. Now he went with his overwhelming gut instinct instead, picking her up and cradling her in his lap. Wrapping her in his arms and holding her close, the way he'd longed to do so many times.

She curled into him and puddled in his arms, just like he knew she would. And this time he put aside all the educated arguments which told him this wasn't professional and put himself in her place instead. God knew, if he'd had to endure the torment and suffering Melody had, he'd want someone to just hold him close and shelter him. To help him believe there was still some genuine care and human kindness left in the world.

He certainly wouldn't want to feel isolated, alone, and apprehensive, as Melody obviously did.

He leaned back and held her in silence, and as she relaxed and slipped her arms around him in return, Micah knew he’d done the right thing.

It wasn't until she started to squirm a good while later that Micah resumed their conversation.

"Okay," he sighed, looking down at where she was curled up in his arms like a trusting little kitten. "It's clear that we need to have a frank and honest chat and get a few things straightened out and work on those misconceptions of yours and maybe a few that I might be guilty of harbouring myself. Are you up for that?"

She looked up at him with clear, guileless eyes and nodded solemnly.

"Right," he huffed resolutely. "First of all, yes, I do feel obligated to help you, but that doesn't make you a burden," he insisted. "I would help anyone in a similar situation if it were within my power to do so, and I have no trouble admitting that it would make me feel good about myself in doing it. That's just the way I'm wired. I like to help people."

"So, I'm nothing special then," she determined gloomily, looking away from him again.

"Stop it!" Micah chastised. "You are special. Everyone in the entire world is special in their own unique way. Well, with the possible exceptions of asshats and dickwads," he countered, drawing a reluctant smile from her as he'd intended. "That aside, I can pretty much guarantee that if you had been a drunken bum or a minor, I would certainly have approached things differently. You’re here because it seemed like the right thing to do under the circumstances, and we were able to provide adequate - probably better than adequate - medical and psychological care. And because we also had contact with the appropriate authorities to investigate your situation."

She relaxed into him once again, laying her head on his wide chest and toying absently with the buttons on his shirt in a way that was really quite distracting. A hard-on was one thing he could really do without for the duration of this conversation, but if Melody didn't stop squirming around on his lap and running her fingers idly across his chest, that was the way things would end up going!

Micah adjusted himself surreptitiously and ploughed ahead, determined to keep his mind from wandering in a direction it really shouldn't go, despite the provocation.

"As far as not wanting you for my slave, you're right…" He felt her flinch and stiffen, and pulled her up to face him, cupping her chin in his hands so she couldn't look away. "But that has nothing to do with you or your value or the way I feel about you. It is simply a dynamic that I do not want to endure. I don't want someone in my life who can't think for themselves. I don't want to shoulder the entire responsibility for another person's day to day existence. When I'm in a relationship, I want it to be autonomous and I want the other person in that relationship to care for me as much as I care for them. And I want them to show that care and do things for me because they want to, not because I've told them to. I want unexpected intimacy and surprises and thoughtful little things that make me realise I'm appreciated for who I am, not because I'm a master who has ordered it!" he insisted passionately.

Micah eased back, realising he had let his emotions on the subject run away with him. He felt like he owed her an explanation for them, a small one, anyway.

"You're not the first person to want this from me, and it's not the first time I've baulked at the idea."

"It's not? Really?" she asked earnestly, searching his eyes.

---