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They’d say their good-byes, and then she’d give herself time to heal before heading to the dungeon again.
Just the thought of it made her want to throw up, but if she didn’t go soon, she might never get the nerve. What were the chances she’d find another Dom who understood her bratting but also her need for mastery? Slim to none.
Even if she found someone who came close to meeting her needs, he’d never be Ambrose. She’d never get back what she’d lost.
But she had to believe it could happen or else be doomed to a lonely, dreary life.
Tears stung her eyes. Apparently they weren’t totally dried up. Thankfully, the cold breeze froze them before they fell, and she was spared more pitying looks, especially from strangers.
This had to stop. She had to talk to him. After the protest. Once that was over with and she wasn’t spending all of her free time pla
The lights of a police car coming up the road caught her attention. Her initial reaction was to panic, but she knew the laws and they weren’t breaking any. A loudspeaker turned on as the car approached.
“You are blocking the intersection. Please move your demonstration off the road and onto the sidewalk.” The officer spoke slowly from the window of the car. “You are blocking an intersection. We will be arresting violators, so please move your protest to the sidewalk. Thank you.”
She hadn’t noticed that more and more protesters had been lingering in the street. They’d been moving when cars came through though. Wasn’t that enough?
A few people meandered to the sidewalk, but many stayed put, either obliviously chatting to neighbors or glaring at the officer in protest.
“We’re not going anywhere!” one protestor shouted. A few echoed him. “So fuck off!”
“Shit,” Everly whispered. “This is going to get bad.”
Without another word, she rushed toward the people in the road. “Move!” she yelled as she pushed through the crowd. “Get off the road! This isn’t that kind of protest.”
When she reached the members who were getting angry, she said, “We don’t want any trouble. We can still make a difference from the sidewalk. Please move.”
“Nobody cares if we stand around there,” the man said, gesturing at the sidewalk. In his dark eyes, she saw her own desperation, her own resentment from years of pain. She would bet a million dollars this man had a history a lot like hers. “They won’t care unless we make them care.”
“Getting arrested won’t fix anything,” she explained.
At the angry shouts around her, panic struck. She didn’t want anyone thrown in jail because of her. That wasn’t supposed to be how this went down.
She turned and looked at them. “Get off the road. Please!”
But it was too late. A team of officers descended upon them. Some of the crowd fled to the sidewalk once they saw the police were serious. She was still encouraging people to move when she felt a hand grip her arm.
She spun, expecting Chloe or Max to be there, trying to drag her to the sidewalk, but instead she came face-to-face with a uniformed man, wearing sunglasses and holding out a set of handcuffs.
“Fuck,” she muttered.
“Yup.” He slipped the handcuffs on her wrists behind her back and started reading her the Miranda rights.
Dozens of protests, and she’d always managed to avoid arrest. Some people would say she was a real protestor now, but she just felt stupid and irresponsible. How many others had she gotten in trouble?
As she was driven away in the back of the squad car, she had a hard time not letting her emotions get the best of her. Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way. God, did she have to be a failure at everything?
Her life was falling apart. First, Ambrose. And now this. The word “failure” should have been stamped on her forehead. She’d thought she was past the point of feeling like she had as a child, but here she was. Back in the line of fire. Failing at life, just as her estranged family had predicted. Her poor mother was going to be so disappointed. At least she was away with Jimmy for the weekend, but that meant calling her for bail wasn’t even an option—not that she wouldn’t be too ashamed to anyway. All Lysette had ever wanted was for Everly to make something of herself. Instead, now she had a criminal record and a destiny as a lonely cat lady.
Not that being single was bad for some people—but she wanted children someday, and she wanted them to have a father. And she wanted sex. Good, kinky sex with someone who loved her.
It was easy to blame Ambrose now that he was gone. He’d ruined all other men for her. Not only because he’d lied and broken her trust, but because she’d had mind-blowing kinky sex with a dominant that suited her perfectly. What were the chances she’d ever find that again? Even if she settled and dated another guy, she’d be constantly comparing him to Ambrose and coming up disappointed.
After the officer put her information into the computer and took her fingerprints, he locked her in the holding cell with about a dozen other women—mostly from the protest.
Letting out a long sigh, she plopped down on one of the benches. Nothing made you contemplate your life’s direction more than being stuck in a holding cell that stank like urine, with no one to call for bail.
Shit.
There was one person.
Could she swallow her pride enough to do it, or should she spend the night here? Her body was too drained for a terrible night’s sleep. Her emotions were spent—she’d break down sobbing any minute if she didn’t get out of there soon. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere warm and cry. God, she sounded like such a baby. She hated not being able to deal with shit she’d gotten herself into.
And what about all the other people here? Maybe she should have explained the rules better, warned them what could happen if they weren’t careful to follow the law regarding peaceful protests. She’d built up a pretty decent savings account—money she’d been tucking away in case of an emergency. It was probably enough to pay bail for the people she’d gotten into this mess. It was only fair to get them out of it. But she had to shift things around in her accounts, so it couldn’t happen tonight.
Ugh. She was so fucking tired.
There was nobody she hated worse than herself right now. Not even Ambrose.
But Ambrose might be the only one who could help her. Not just her, but the i
When the police officer handed her the phone, she swallowed back the lump in her throat and dialed his number.
Chapter Fourteen
“You’re one sorry sack of shit, you know that?” Konstantin gri
“Fuck you. I’m not giving you my phone.” He stared at Konstantin morosely and stretched out on his friend’s ultramodern sofa, feeling like he was in a space-age psychiatrist’s office. So maybe he’d called Everly way too many times and was turning into a pathetic moron. It wasn’t like he had anything left to lose.
“Have some fucking self-respect. Quit calling her. At this point she probably thinks you’re a
Sindee’s eyes widened at suddenly being addressed. “I don’t know, Master. I suppose a Master can do whatever he likes.”