“What’s that?” I asked.
“Are you allowed to come to the slave garden? There’s a corner where we can talk that won’t be picked up by cameras. It’s very important.”
“Um…”
She was still talking behind her hand, scratching her cheek to try to guard that her lips were moving.
“I have about three hours free before I have to get ready for tonight’s party. If there’s any way you can get to me, please do. Your current situation depends on it.” She slipped away down a hall.
I walked out the door and toward the beach, holding my collar the entire time, feeling the strands, feeling that there were three of them.
I didn’t go far. I was easily visible from the patio. I sat in the sand right at the lapping water and stared at the water, thinking about what I’d done, thinking about who I used to be, thinking and wondering who I was now.
I scooped up water and splashed my face. I fell forward on my knees and scooped more water into my hair. And then more. My hair started to go wavy. I sat down and played with a lock of the length of my now curling hair.
“What the fuck?” Dare’s voice broke me out of a daze.
I let go of my hair and glanced up at him.
“I’ve been looking for you. I was ready to tear this fucking place apart!”
He was mad at me.
I blinked at him. My mouth opened. Anger radiated from every one of Dare’s pores.
I lifted my hand and panned it out in front of me, gesturing at the beach, the water. I grabbed my collar and mouthed, “Three.”
It must have satisfied him, been self-explanatory that I had to come to the one spot here that made me feel something other than dread and felt like I could because I was convinced I had my three-strand collar on, because he took in our surroundings and the anger drained out of his face. He went to his knees in the sand and thrust his fingers into his hair.
“I was fuckin’ worried sick.”
“I’m sorry, Master.” I said softly.
He pulled me against him.
I buried my face into his throat. I held him tight. Tears threatened. I pushed them away.
“I don’t wanna be Felicia again.”
He pulled back to look at me. He looked torn up. Remorseful.
”I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I fucked up.”
“Tell me to be your good girl,” I pleaded, “I’ll be your good girl for the rest of the trip and then maybe I won’t have to be her anymore after this.”
“I won’t call you that name again. I love you, baby. Fuck, that scared me. You scared me. You okay?”
He brushed my hair away from my face.
I nodded.
“They’re watching. They saw me strut this way, pissed.”
He had me plastered to him on our knees but he hauled off and slapped my ass really hard. I jolted. He slapped it again and then let me go and aggressively pointed at the sand.
He laid down and pointed at his stomach.
“Lay on my belly so we can talk,” he demanded.