Page 55 of Binding Their Hearts

She played off her flinch with a laugh, but Henry had surely felt it. “I would have said so a minute ago, but now I’m having thoughts about Santa hats and suspenders.”

As Santa Will laughed, Henry peered over her shoulder. “Shall we get some for Jay this year? A pair of elf shorts with strategic Velcro flaps might suit him.”

Their ghoulish skeleton danced in place, full of grins and wiggles—exaggerated for her benefit, or just Jay being Jay. His playful subby energy would’ve been catching if she didn’t feel so rundown. Her mind tipped like a seesaw between numbness and hyper work panic.

She brushed her cheek against Henry’s and inhaled the musk of leather and citrus clinging to his skin. A fraction of tension slipped out of her bones. “I’m not saying no.”

“You”—he lightly kissed her cheek—“are ever a delight. Now, let’s get you undressed.”

In the seconds she took to gawk before her mind caught up to his, he unzipped her dress and stripped her to the bodysuit. Kneeling, he balanced her hand on his shoulder and helped her step out of the heels.

Will held out his hand to her. “Right this way, Mistress.”

He treated her as an equal. An uncomfortable prickle crawled down her back. Her understanding of rope play so far could fit in a teaspoon. The trap of expectations snapped shut, her mind racing to anticipate what she needed to know or be or do for this meeting. She blinked to clear away the noise, but her throat tightened. “No ‘little one’ tonight?”

The barest flick of his gaze revealed his check-in with Henry before he scooped her up, arms under her knees and shoulders. “I’m told Henry’s darling girl could use a bit of a rest.” His gruff whisper bristled and soothed like the strokes of a brush through her hair. “Is that so, little one?”

She nodded. Her voice couldn’t be trusted. Henry and Jay and now Santa, all of them accommodating her contrariness. Every invitation brought up a spiraling rejection, a bratty objection, a mutinous certainty that no, this wouldn’t fix her either. She’d gotten out of step with herself, walking the edge of an anxious pit of fear while taking a knife to the lifelines they threw her.

“Not to worry.” He laid her down under what looked like a backyard swing set. Ropes dangled from metal rings below a thick wood beam, lines running down to the floor mat and the web of knobby knots under her. “Time slows here. You’ll see.”

Above her hung a starry sky with the Milky Way running through it, the whole canopy faintly illuminated, sides hooked to ceiling bolts with carabiners.

“It’s beautiful.”

“One of Henry’s creations, many years past.” Will smoothed her hair away from her face and crossed her arms lightly over her stomach. “He has quite the affinity for beautiful things, inside and out.”

“Jay’s the praise fiend.” She’d whispered. That was the only saving grace, that Henry and Jay wouldn’t have heard her cattiness. “Fuck.” Tension reaffirmed its grip, her body strung so tight her fingers vibrated. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Stress does strange things to us all.” He ran his hands over ropes alongside her, but nothing bound her, not like when Henry practiced wrapping harnesses around her. Nothing claimed her. “You feel it, the weight?”

“All the time.” The truth burned, churning her stomach. Work frustration spilled over into everything now. If she wasn’t careful, her anger and distraction would drive Henry and Jay out of her life.

“The sieve won’t hold it in.” His usual merriment absent, Will knelt at her side, his face inches above hers, his voice for her alone in a room with dozens of others. “Some call it the net, the basket, the cradle—but it will only hold you, little one. Whatever you carry with you will slip through the weave and fall away. What’s left is the you that you want to be. The you free of obligations and constraints.”

Being locked in a sack of rope sounded pretty constraining, actually. She held her tongue. Will was trying to help her. Henry had arranged this. He hoped she’d like it. She would damn well give it a shot, even if her inner adolescent hated everything today. “How long?”

“That’s up to you.” Plastic rustled, and he held up a pair of blue foam earplugs. “If you aren’t enjoying the experience, you can say anything you like: ow, stop, red, safeword, I’m done, get me the hell out of this…” His crooked grin and twinkling blue eyes suggested he expected her to pick that last one. “I’ll be here the whole time. I recommend the earplugs to dull the background noise. I’ve a blindfold if you’d like that as well, though you might prefer”—he lifted a hand toward the canopy—“Henry’s embrace.”

“Just the earplugs. Please. Thank you.” Jitters crashed under her skin, a caffeinated wave without the caffeine.

Will placed the earplugs. “All right. Up we go, little one.” Thick fog slowed his voice. The rest of the room and the club music dropped to a dim rumble. “Remember, just you. Nothing else. Only you are light enough to float.”

He backed off and stood, and rope began rising around her. Heart racing, she hugged her stomach. Her body lifted from the cushion, lines of knots rolling like marbles under her back as the rope stretched. The movement went smoothly, not the jerky hand-over-hand motion she’d expected. Paired lines of blue and green ran upward to a simple pulley system. Will’s Santa-red lounge pants came into view on her left. She hunted for Henry beside him.

Nothing.

Head tipped back. Strangers at a distance.

Chin lowered. Beyond her feet, the angled beams held up the one carrying all her weight now.

Her arms rose and fell with her stomach, panicky breathing creating a cascade. She couldn’t be more than two feet off the ground. Nothing to be afraid of. But a chill built and rippled, leaving her trembling.

Movement to her right. Henry gazed at her with unwavering eyes, Jay just over his shoulder. One hand spread across his heart, Henry mimed a deep breath, then another.

She followed on instinct, her breath slowing. Her heartbeat still whooshed in her ears above the muffled sounds from the room, but with less intensity. Her skin warmed under her lovers’ gaze, burning out the chill. As the trembling faded, heaviness engulfed her.

Santa had promised she could fly. But she hung limp, and gravity pressed her down into the scratchy-soft ropes in every direction. They shifted with her as she squirmed and wriggled and stretched—so no matter how she moved, she never really moved at all. Fighting against the shape of the net gained her nothing but wasted effort.

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