Page 44 of Lavender and Lightning

eighteen

Lydia

Therestofmyweekend with Mateo passes in an anxious blur. Mateo does his best to distract me, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the pit of churning fear that settled into my stomach. Knowing that my mother and Darren now have confirmation of not only my location, but my relationship with Pack St. Clair, scares me more than I can adequately put into words. During one of my more intense moments of panic, I called Rhett, and we talked through ways to protect me. When he brought up hiring someone to act as my personal security, I didn’t hesitate to agree. It doesn’t seem silly or overkill to have a trained professional watching my back when Darren knows where to find me, along with Seth and his groupies, all eager to make our lives difficult in any way they can.

On Monday, I finally got the all-clear from my doctors that my arm is healed enough to remove my splint. I’m still on orders not to do any heavy lifting or strenuous activities for another week or two, but being able to bend my wrist again for the first time in nearly a month feels amazing. Despite my appointment being in the morning, Wila gave me the whole day off, which is how I ended up sitting on the back porch of the pack house, staring out over the backyard. Alexandra is working from home today, shut up in her office, so the house is quiet.

And the quiet leaves room for my mind to spiral out of control. Every breeze through the trees makes me jump, my mind convinced that someone is moving through the underbrush. The sound of traffic is muffled, but now and then, I hear a loud muffler and nearly jump out of my skin. It feels like hours, each heartbeat stretching out and distorting until eventually I can’t stand it. When I go back inside, a glance at the oven clock shows I’d only been out there for less than an hour. I sigh as I wander through the ground floor, stopping at the windows to fuss with locks and curtains, even though I know they are locked and drawn. I try to settle on the sectional in the family room, but no matter how I position myself, I can’t find a place that feels right. My feet take me through the kitchen, and I’m hardly aware of my hands straightening gadgets and wiping away nonexistent crumbs.

My head is full and empty all at once. My thoughts move so fast that I can’t pin down any of the distinct threads, leading to a constant anxious drone in my ears. If I focus on it for too long, my heart kicks in my chest. I don’t feel shaky or weepy, just unsettled. I meander through the butler’s pantry into the formal dining room, eyes darting to the windows at the slightest hint of movement. I straighten the chairs until everything is even around the massive dark wood table, but the grandfather clock in the next room makes my skin jump with each deep tick.

Keeping my hands and feet busy seems to help, so I move from room to room, straightening pillows and dusting already immaculate surfaces. The chairs in the dining room seem to drift out of alignment and I have to start again. I’m in the middle of adjusting the placement of knickknacks in the formal sitting room when Alexandra’s voice rings out through the space.

“Lydia, can you come in here, please?”

My stomach drops and swoops at the soft lilt of her words, even as my spine straightens. I scurry across the foyer to the double doors of her office, one of which is ajar. When I slip inside, I find her sitting behind her massive wood desk, eyes darting back and forth as she reads something on her computer screen. I close the door softly, dread filling my chest with each passing moment. Why does it always feel like I’ve been called into the principal’s office when I talk to her?

She looks up at the sound of the latch, her face calm but otherwise unreadable. She motions to the chair in front of her desk. “Sit and talk with me for a moment, sweetness?”

I blink, unable to do anything except nod and shuffle across the room and lower myself cautiously into the leather chair. It’s more comfortable than any office chair I’ve ever sat in, and I have to fight to keep myself from sinking into the cushions. I pull the sleeves of my hoodie down over my hands, toying with the cuffs as I wait for her to speak.

“I’d like to do something that I think might help with where your head’s at right now, but we need to have a discussion first,” she starts, leaning back and crossing one trousered leg elegantly over the other.

I look up at her curiously, my face growing warmer. Her hazel eyes are laser focused on my every move, and I’m not sure if I’d even feel this exposed if I was naked. I nod again, not trusting my voice right now.

“When you and Rhett began your dynamic, you discussed limits, and what sorts of things you are into, correct?” she asks.

My spine straightens and my jaw falls open slightly, taken completely aback by not only her casual tone, but nonchalant discussion of kink and sex. The anxious buzzing in my mind disappears, replaced with the pounding of my heart in my ears. Alexandra doesn’t move or speak, waiting for me to answer. I clear my throat and look back to the worn edges of my sleeves.

“Yeah—yes, ma’am. We did discuss those things,” I manage to force out, eternally grateful that I didn’t squeak or stumble over the words.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, sweetness,” Alexandra commands, voice dropping to a sultry purr.

Before I’m conscious of making the choice to move, my head snaps up and eyes lock onto her hazel orbs. I suck in a sharp inhale through my nose, and my mind spirals as the warm, spicy mulled wine scent of her fills the air. My thighs clench together, and it’s a fight to stay still and not squirm to relieve the sudden pressure in my lower belly.

“Good girl. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but Rhett has told me of your limits. Degradation is a hard no, as is saliva, and you need to have a means of control if someone has their hands in your hair. Have you found any new limits since that talk?”

My stomach flips under her praise, so much so that I almost look away to hide my blush before remembering myself and maintaining eye contact. My hands tighten and relax in my lap, but I can’t get them to stop.

“Not-not that I can think of. Do you use the same safe words?” I ask, picking my words carefully.

Alexandra cocks her head to the side as she considers the question, and I swallow, trying to ease the dryness just a little. But all the excess moisture in my body has migrated to pool between my thighs.

“If it makes you more comfortable, we can use the traffic light system. It’s been a moment since I’ve used them, but I’ll make sure to be aware of that for you,” she answers resolutely.

I furrow my brow in confusion. “I thought you and Lucas…” I trail off as I catch myself in my curiosity. Their relationship is their business, and I shouldn’t pry.

Alexandra chuckles lowly, smirking. “Oh, Lucas and I certainly do play our little games. As part of our negotiations, he surrendered his safe words. But I have absolutely no expectations for you to do such a thing at this point in your journey.”

“I… I don’t know if I ever could,” I mumble, looking down at my hands, my nail beds white from how hard I’m clenching around the material of my hoodie.

“And that’s perfectly fine. I don’t want you to compare yourself to anyone. Whatever we do, whatever type of dynamic forms between us, is ours, completely unique and beautiful,” she soothes.

I nod, the muscles in my arms starting to relax, even as my heart races. I don’t speak, trying to keep my imagination from zooming off into outer space. The silence creeps in again, and I have to count my inhales and exhales to stop from fidgeting.

“I do want you to know something about me, Lydia,” Alexandra says seriously.

I look up again and find her leaning forward, elbows resting on the edge of her desk as she clasps her hands. I wait, catching myself before I move too far forward.

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