Page 3 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

I felt someone come up beside me, and I glanced up to see Megan smiling down at me softly.

“Hi, Reuben.”

“Hello Megan,” I whispered.The angel who I failed.

“Um... How are you?” She sat on the arm of the couch. It reminded me of all the times when she would sit by my feet, staring up at me with her big glassy brown eyes.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Busy. Tired... but I’m well. I presume all is going well with you,” I nodded to her collar.

She smiled and brushed it lightly with her fingers, but her face fell slightly. “Reuben, I’m a little worried about you.” She said it softly, so nobody else would hear. “You look miserable.”

I looked away from her.

I wasn’t sure if miserable was the right word to describe how I felt. Lonely, maybe. Bored, probably. Overworked and under-stimulated, absolutely. Did that equate to misery? The numbness was comforting, though. A cold, boring, silent fading away of my demons, because I didn’t have to face them when I was alone.

“Becca noticed it too, but she won’t say anything because she doesn’t want to pressure you.”

That was unsurprising. Becca would dominate anyone who would let her, but she had never once attempted to top me. Very rarely did she ever give me any pushback on things, even now that she was no longer my submissive. Nevertheless, she tended to call me out if she felt like I was doing something stupid. But there were some lines even she wouldn’t cross.

“Is there anything I can do?” Megan continued.

I shook my head.

“Still waiting, then?”

“Yes.” Megan knew about my visions. We had shared everything with each other about our dreams and futures... when she was mine.

I’d often thought about just finding a playmate for a casual relationship until I found my raven-haired Destroyer, but I had a tendency to get attached to my subs. I always wanted more from them. Knowing my luck, I would find myself a submissive and get attached to her, and then my mysterious Destroyer would show up.

But what if I never found her?

No. The visions don’t lie.

I looked back at Megan. “If you find a black-haired gothic masochistic princess with blue and purple eyes, give her my number.”

She smiled and left her spot by my side to return to the bar. I forced myself to sit for a while longer before I escaped.

My restaurants andmy hotels were a machine that generated money and made up a series of hoops I had to jump through, but my life’s work was my treatment center for trafficking victims. Becca, Mike, Simon, and a few other friends had helped me start it almost ten years ago. They had all outvoted me on the name, so The Weston House was born, and became the thing I poured myself into.

The girls who spent time at the center were given access to healthcare, therapy, safety, and education, and then placed with guardians to transition them to independence. Finding trustworthy guardians was hard, and I occasionally reached out to BDSM Dominants and caregivers who I trusted to honor their boundaries.

The conversation with Mia’s soon-to-be guardian went well, and I asked him to submit the necessary paperwork to adopt her. I would follow up with him, get to know him, and vet him myself. If I thought he was a good match, Mia would leave The Weston House and go to live with him. He would act as her caregiver and continue to provide therapy and education to her until she was ready to be on her own.

I also got to chat with Mia. She had done so well over the past few months. She stood tall with her head lifted instead of cowered, she made eye contact, and she spoke clearly, a huge improvement from the last time I’d seen her. Even though I knew I would get home late, it was good to see how much she’d changed and grown. Some of the other girls at the center greeted me by name, and Rachel gave me a hug.

This was the right choice,I thought.I needed to see the good, to have a reminder that I’m doing this for a reason.That all this work and exhaustion means something.

I had no meetings for the next two weeks. I could have stayed at my house up in DC, but I missed my house back in the mountains, and I was looking forward to working from home and spending time at the church clubhouse with my Cullowhee friends. It was a long drive back to the North Carolina Appalachian Mountains, so I made some phone calls to keep my mind busy.

Mike and I talked about his brother, who he was worried about because he was being incredibly stupid about the girl he liked. “I know he’s a sadist, and I know he hates himself for it. He won’t talk to any of us about it.” I promised to check in on Jamie as subtly as possible and try to give him some direction.

I called Anthony, just to touch base and see how everything was going at The Underground, and he voiced his concerns. “There’s a lot of he-said she-said about blood, hospital trips, and safewords being ignored. I might need some advice, or at least an outside perspective.” I promised to swing by the club and give him some advice when I had a chance.

I finally called Becca, knowing that putting it off wasn’t going to make it easier on either of us.

“Hey. What’s the diagnosis?”

“Lung cancer,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

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