Protege(74)

“I never led you to believe this was real.”

“No,” she agreed calmly. “On the contrary, you reminded me it was just an education all along, an impression of what might someday come.” She laughed without humor. “What you don’t realize, Jude, is that I’ve been acting my entire life and I’m starved for something real, something I can bank on. I don’t want to waste another day pretending I have a home where I don’t. I don’t want to tell myself kindness is love when it’s not. I need something real—”

“You’re rushing things. There’s a process—”

“Do you believe in that process?” she snapped. “You’ve built this entire enterprise, yet all you ever do is surround yourself with barriers so no one can get close to you. How do you sell something you don’t believe in?”

“I do believe in it! I created Fernweh because it’s the only thing I trust. What I don’t believe in is people!”

She drew back as his voice ricocheted off the walls. Eyes damp with tears, she rasped, “You only have to believe in me.”

Feeling cornered, he glared at her. “You’re paper to me, Ms. Banks. You’re just one more application I have to file and place.”

Staggering back, her face twisted in horror. She couldn’t have looked more devastated if he’d slapped her.

Regretting his words and loathing his inability to trust and open up, he stepped forward. “Collette—”

“Don’t touch me!” She drew back, a look of repulsion on her face. Collecting herself, she said, “I am more than paper, Jude Duval. I am a woman, a teacher, someone who would risk her life for others. I am a daughter, yet an orphan, someone who feels things deeply. Fuck you for not having the depth and compassion to recognize that. Please arrange for me to go somewhere else as soon as possible. Either way, I’ll not spend another night here with you.”

She turned and stormed out of the kitchen. A long moment later he heard her bedroom door slam from the other end of the house. Locking his jaw tight, he snarled and flipped the kitchen table on end. “Fuck!”

His heart thundered in his chest like an ensnared dragon trying to break free. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. His failure brutally settled in his bones as his entire body reverberated with shame.

He should have never touched her in such a mood. His anger and jealousy from the night before was an oily cancer burning through him, and he didn’t know how to get it out. Worse of all, coming at her so rough with his emotions way out of check only extended his esteem for her, because, despite his out of line handling, she enjoyed it.

She’d asked him to spank her. And he wanted to spank her, but not for the right reason. He wanted to punish her for taking pleasure from another man’s touch. The irreconcilable evidence was more truth that they were unsuited and their parting was inevitable. But he never wanted her to leave like this.

His intention was to place her caringly in the arms of another Dom, someone with a gentle touch and compassionate understanding for the delicate balance she needed. Too many believed it was a power play founded in strength and control when in reality it was an intangible emotional exchange that took time and skill.

He’d violated that exchange today, more so than ever before. He knew better than anyone that words left darker scars than fists. What he’d said to her was unacceptable, and he would tell her that before she left. It was his duty.

After cleaning up the disaster in the kitchen, he called Ezra. His friend was concerned, to say the least. It only turned Jude’s stomach more to hear how quickly Brys agreed to fulfill the remainder of her time, taking her on as a protégé. Perhaps it was for the best, but still he worried.

“I’d thought you and Lea would consider taking her,” he said to his partner.

“No, Jude. She’s not for us. Lea’s very fond of her, but after discussing Collette honestly, she knows she’s not the right match. We’re too eager to find our third to cloud our time with such responsibility. I’m sorry.”

Jude understood. “Have Brys come here at six. She’ll be ready.”

“Will you?”

He sighed. “I’ll have to be.”

After a long afternoon of silence, he finally braved the stairs. He knocked softly on her door.

“Go away.”

Fuck that. Turning the knob, he stepped inside and stilled. Her face lifted from her arms where they rested on her vanity, her eyes wrecked with tears, the lids red and raw. Jesus. It was a kick to the gut.

She scoffed and wiped her eyes. “Can I not have any privacy?”

“As a sub, no.” He went to the bed and sat. She plucked another tissue from the box and dabbed her eyes. He didn’t miss the small overnight bag at the door.

Ignoring the pressure building in his chest, he said, “I can arrange to have the rest of your belongings sent to you.”

“Don’t bother. They’re just clothes. Nothing as substantial as paper. Besides, they were never my things anyway.”

“Collette.”

She groaned and braced her palms on the vanity as if preparing for a blow.

“It was never my intention to hurt you. It pains me greatly to know I’ve failed.”

Her head lowered. Taking a deep breath, she softly spoke. “The sad part is, you’re right. I was just a job, that’s all this ever was to you. It was my own fault for letting my heart think it could be you, but . . . when you look at me, Jude, I feel alive, more alive than I’ve ever felt. I feel safe. I wanted it to be real, because I’ve never had someone look at me the way you do, not in the real world.”