Page 15 of Rebellion

Renewal

They say there arefive stages of grief.

I was in stage two according to “they”. Anger.

Whoever the fuck “they” were, they could suck it, because this was no damn stage. Anger was a state of being for me. I embraced it, I lived in it. Anger was my new boyfriend.

Fuck anyone who didn’t want to be with me. Gray didn’t want to be with me, fine. I knew someone who did.

“Hey, Tate. Call me when you get the message. Just wanted to give you the FBO I booked for the plane and our flight times. Kisses.”

Now to finish packing. Every shirt, dress, and pair of panties I had reminded me of Gray, so I threw them out and bought new ones. Then I bought new luggage he’d never carried for me.

And a new plane.

I sat on my bed cutting the tags off the twenty-three pairs of silk, lace, and leather panties, the twelve custom-made corsets, the imported kimono, and two new pairs of fuck-me-red high heels. I threw in a few new t-shirts and a couple pairs of Seven jeans for the days I wasn’t working in the club. I made sure to leave room for the thigh-high leather boots I was having made. Patent leather, silk lacing, six-inch stilettos I’d learn to walk in or die trying.

“Angelina.” Cade stood in my doorway, leaning against the frame.

He had this new confidence, like the world had been handed to him on a platter and he knew it was his for the taking. I liked this new him. “How long have you been standing there?”

He grinned and walked to the foot of my bed. “Not long enough.”

So sweet, and in another life, I might have been happy having him, but not this go around. “You’re not here just to ogle me while I pack, are you?”

“No.” He lifted my chin. I hadn’t even realized I’d looked away. “I’m not going to Texas with you.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph Stalin. “I know.”

“I can’t play second fiddle. I thought I could, but I either need you for my own, or I need to go.”

I laughed. Not a cute chuckle either. More like a snort of derision. The anger did that to me, even if it wasn’t fair to Cade. “I can’t give myself to anyone right now anyway. Not you. Not even Gray. Not that he wants me anyway.”

Cade went from the gentleman, who came to lay his heart on the line to that beautiful harsh Dom. He sat up straight and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Don’t believe that for a second. He was... is in love with you.”

No. He wouldn’t have left me if he was. “He was in love with the old Angelina.”

He let go and sat on the bed next to me. “Is she really very different than this one?”

The old Angelina was a lifetime away. “Yeah, she was a bigger mess than I am now, if you can believe that.”

Cade held ran his hand into my hair, but this time didn’t hold it tight like he loved to. “I don’t. Why do you? What did the old Angelina want?”

The anger boiled in me. “She was weak and meek. She needed to be taken care of and controlled.”

The hand in my hair pulled tight tugging on my scalp. There was the Cade I needed.

“She was a victim?”

Christo. When he said it like that it cut my heart in two. “Of course, I was. Even in bed. I always played the submissive. It turned me on, but it was a crutch. When I get to Texas I’m never going to be weak like that again. Men will bow down to me and kneel at my feet.”

He tilted my head back until I had to look up at him. “Being submissive isn’t weak.”

“Being a Dominatrix isn’t either.”

Cade didn’t say anything, but frowned a little looking at me like he wasn’t sure he should tell me I was being dumb or not. “Maybe. There is strength in both, especially when we can find the right person to share that dynamic with.”

I tore my gaze away, unable to look at the truth in his eyes. He allowed me to pull away. My pillows were damn sure interesting at the moment and I grabbed one propping it across the front of me.

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