Page 28 of Regal Feather
Any other day, I’d grow anxious. It would be a reason for punishment. It wouldn’t now, though. Now, after I gathered the courage to ask someone for help with a scene. After I’d thoroughly embarrassed myself in front of him. After I’d convinced myself that Sir Ismael was the real deal, and I’d been willing to risk shit with Santos.
I ran the back of my hand over my eyes.
At least, the shock of the words had made me stop crying.
“Uh, I’m sorry?” I cleared my throat. I couldn’t look at Danny. Maybe I could embarrass myself a tiny bit more and ask him to drive me to Santos? He would know where they were. That would be too needy, though. “That you had to…”
“Stop it.” Danny sighed. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, and we can talk about it, yeah?”
I glanced up at him first. I’d never seen Danny take charge. I’d seen him obey León and taunt him. I’d seen him ribbing me and every other sub who got too close, looking for a reaction in the same way that León did. I’d seen him switch things up a bit more with Carlos. I hadn’t seen him serious, or like he was now, his jaw clenched tight as he kept fixing up my hair like that was going to make any of this easier to deal with.
“León is going to fucking kill me,” he grumbled before helping us both to our feet.
My knees threatened to buckle, but I needed some dignity left.
Today had been the worst idea I’d had in years.
That was saying something.
“Why?”
I frowned. Things didn’t feel too present, but something told me that focusing on the conversation might help go through the motions. The motions of Danny pushing a bottle of lotion into my hands. Of him rummaging through my wardrobe for clothes to give me.
“Because I should’ve known,” he hissed. “Fuck. Do you have anything that’s like…not slutty? No offense.”
I snorted. It was kind of funny, watching him grow antsy. This was not something he would’ve ever volunteered to do.
“Uh, Santos’s wardrobe?”
He slept over here every night, but he hadn’t moved his things over or anything. There was technically room, but it wouldn’t make sense when there were enough wardrobes in this place that we could have one for each season. Maybe even color-code them.
“Okay.”
At least I knew Santos wouldn’t be pissed if he walked in and I was wearing his clothes. He might get a bit growly and possessive in that way he did that he was terrible at keeping under wraps, but that would be it.
I thought.
Could I really trust what I thought anymore? I never thought Sir Ismael was going to flake because I followed the rules. Because I became too much.
I winced.
Danny took no time getting back with a hoodie and a pair of joggers that would probably be three times my size. I didn’t care. I just grabbed them and put them on and pretended going commando was a completely natural thing I did every day.
This was all so unsettling, and pathetic, and embarrassing, and the fact that I was starting to sound like a broken record only made it worse.
Should I get mad at Sir Ismael? Had he done anything wrong? Or was it all me? Partly me?
“All right.” Danny ran both hands through his hair while bouncing on his feet. He’d waited until I was decent, and he texted someone on his phone, and then he was all back on me. “Sit down.”
As if he was a puppeteer, I let my ass slump down on the mattress, barely softening the fall with my hands.
“Great.” I thought he was going to sit next to me, but he sat on the carpeted floor instead, his side leaning against the bed. I supposed it was fair. I’d never seen him sitting down properly anyway. “What do you want in a partner, Ev?”
My heart went back to beating fast. “Uh?”
“Like…” He licked his lips, toying with one of his piercings before he glanced back up at me. “What’s your type? Do you want someone more nurturing, someone more strict, someone more playful, someone who’s more of an equal…”
I brought my feet up to the bed and wrapped my arms around my knees. “Strict.”
