Page 190 of Seizing Control: Part One

Two truths that can’t coexist.

Yet, I’m only human, and I’m at my most vulnerable right now. Pregnant and mourning. Still, I’m aware my emotions are contradictory. My desires are diametrical opposites. If the universe was fair, it would allow me the grace I need to grieve my loss so I can embrace an untainted future with my husband. As it is, I know that loving two men is incompatible with the society I’m forced to live within. Even my anarchist spirit can’t deny that. In some instances, privilege exempts us from cultural expectations, but I’m not a rock star like Seraphina and the Shamrocks aren’t egalitarian enough to accept my heart’s dual desires, so having the choice was taken out of my hands is almost a blessing disguised as heartache.

Zeke died before I was forced to choose between the men I love.

His loss has left me permanently in purgatory.

Playing limbo with grief and contentment.

Begrudging the flare of longing I feel whenever I contemplate my secret wish.

I hope the baby inside me is Zeke’s…

Like I’ve done for the past month, I ignore that thought before it can properly take root.

Rolling off the bed, I laugh when Nadia yells, “You have two minutes before I come in and rescue Anna from your pierced trouser snake.”

“Trouser snake?” My husband mouths.

I roll my eyes. “Pants python?”

When the big man’s face fills with confusion as he tries to work out if I’ve given him a compliment or not, I smirk. Scooping up my bikini, I duck into the bathroom to clean up before my best friend can make good on her promise.

I quickly pee.

Take a slightly longer shower.

Once I’ve dried off and re-dressed in my swimsuit, I turn on my good girl façade, stopping momentarily to double check in the mirror that my smile appears genuine, and step out into the bedroom to face my husband. Every time he allows his darkness to slip his control, Slash goes to extremes to prove that he is as gentle, wise, and moral as he’s always been thought to be by the world at large. His guilt hurts me. His innate repentance is a tragedy. His inability to accept the opposing facets of his psyche drives a wedge between us.

It also makes me doubt his tolerance of my dark cravings.

Does my husband judge my kink?

“How are you feelin’, duchess?”

“I’m good,” I reply without hesitation.

“Love your body.” Goosebumps break out over my skin when he pulls my back to his chest and cradles my slightly rounded belly with his big hands. My breath catches in my throat. I know my pregnancy is stirring up his demons, the harsh words he lashed me with ten minutes ago an indication of the internal conflict he’s struggling to hide. “Bloody hell, I’m hard again.”

Slash presses his erection into the small of my back.

I am shocked by the panic that stiffens my spine.

“We should really get back out there,” I murmur in a rush.

“They can wait.”

The big man cups my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple while his other hand roams my stomach. I exhale slowly, then I take hold of his wrist to stop his exploration. Turning so I’m facing him, I move out of Slash’s embrace, edging away a step at a time. My husband follows me, determined to keep me close, even as I make it clear that I need space. As we engage in this slow-motion game of cat and mouse, I rack my brain for the reason why I’m reacting so negatively to Slash’s obvious desire for me when I was all-in on it minutes ago.

My husband has never scared me before.

I’ve encouraged his darkness to the surface.

But, in this moment, I’m frightened of him.

Of hurting him with the truth that I don’t want to acknowledge.

I’m undone.

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