"I'm going to f.u.c.king kill him."

As he stormed past her she tried to clutch at his leg, but he kicked her off, a bolt of guilt hitting him as she fell on her injured b.u.t.t with a sharp cry of pain. He wanted to stop and see if she was all right and he couldn't help his bitter laugh at himself. "You f.u.c.king, faithless b.i.t.c.h. How long have you been lying to me? Every f.u.c.king minute since I met you? How could you? How the f.u.c.k could you do this to me, to us? And how f.u.c.king dare you make me believe you love me. You don't love anyone but yourself."

He jerked open the door and ignored Mich.e.l.le's piercing scream as she begged him to stop, to wait, but if he stayed, his unthinking violence would turn on her.

The journey out of the hotel and into the cab was a complete nightmare and everyone that saw him stayed well out of his path. By the time his cab reached the dungeon his anger had reached epic proportions but he managed to keep it under control, his training in the military on how to function through extreme emotions kicking in. After throwing a handful of bills at the driver, he got out and stared at the building, knowing from Mich.e.l.le that Petrov lived on the top floor. A bright, picture-perfect blue sky stretched out over Chicago, and for one bitter moment, he had a flashback of being in battle, of feeling the killing rage filling him beneath another faultless blue sky, but he choked it back. Nothing from his past compared to the pain of his present and he was going to f.u.c.king slay the man that Mich.e.l.le had allowed to hurt her, to touch her, to f.u.c.k her.

He stormed up to the front door but before he could jerk the handle open an older, gorgeous, black woman opened it with a stern expression on her face.

"Wyatt, we've been expecting you."

He was tempted to shove past her, but she was a female and even in the depths of his anger he could never hurt a woman. "Where is he?"

"I'm a.s.suming you mean my husband?"

"Where the f.u.c.k is he?"

She took a step forward, getting into his personal s.p.a.ce and the scent of her floral and spice perfume teased him even as he fought for control. "You need to listen to me, okay?"

"f.u.c.k that. Where is he?"

What she did next shocked him so much he forgot to be angry for a moment. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. "Listen to me, Wyatt, this is very important."

He pushed out of her embrace, but her touch helped him leash his anger, at least for the moment. "Tell me whatever it is you have to say then get the f.u.c.k out the way, lady."

"Maya."

"What?"

"My name is Maya."

"Fine, Maya, what the f.u.c.k do you want?"

"Wyatt, Petrov didn't know Mich.e.l.le had come here without your approval."

"Yeah, right."

Her lips firmed and she gave him a hard look that reminded him of his mother when she was absolutely done with his bulls.h.i.t. "My husband would never have betrayed you like that, Wyatt, not even for Mich.e.l.le."

"Did you stand there and watch while he beat her? While he f.u.c.ked her? Did you get off on it?"

Once again, she shocked him, but this time by slapping him across the face. "You will not disrespect me like that in my own home. I don't care how angry and hurt you are, I am not responsible for the current state of affairs and neither is my husband. If you want to come in and speak with him you will be respectful or I swear I will get out my husband's gun and shoot you myself. Am I clear?"

Her no nonsense tone and stance reached him in a way her gentleness had not, calling on his many years in the military and snapping him to attention. "Yes, ma'am."

She blew out a harsh breath and looked down for a moment before meeting his gaze again, and to his surprise, he saw tears in her eyes. "Mich.e.l.le didn't hurt only you with her deceit, she hurt my husband as well. Please keep that in mind when you see him. Follow me."

Trailing after her he tried to fight the depression that was filling him as his anger receded. The bone crushing weight of heartbreak and despair taking its place threatening to send him crumpling to the floor. Maya taped a code into a keypad next to a st.u.r.dy metal door then led him inside. Despite the dark decor of the s.e.x club below, the living s.p.a.ce above it was nice and normal. He'd expected to find some indication of the BDSM lifestyle here, but it was just a home. The ma.s.sive, open s.p.a.ce before him consisted of a kitchen that overlooked a big walnut dining room table big enough to seat twelve separating a tastefully decorated living room s.p.a.cious enough to host a large party from the kitchen.

A set of sliding gla.s.s doors led out to the wide balcony where Wyatt spotted Petrov sitting in a deck chair sipping a drink and looking out over the Chicago skyline. Colorful potted plants surrounded him and the scene was one of urban domestic tranquility. Wyatt's anger returned, but before he could take a step Maya laid her hand on his arm.

"Remember what I said, Wyatt. Petrov didn't know, I didn't know. He views Mich.e.l.le like a member of his family and the fact that she would lie to him about something so important, use him like that, has shaken him deeply."

"How the f.u.c.k do you think I feel?" His voice came out broken with pain.

She studied him and nodded slowly. "Go talk to him. If anyone can make this right it's my husband. He's your friend in this, Wyatt, not your enemy."

He made his way to the sliding doors, conscious of Maya's eyes on him. f.u.c.k, there went the idea of beating Petrov's a.s.s. Even if he wasn't conflicted about the other man's involvement he would never fight someone in front of his wife. It just wasn't right and no matter how messed up Wyatt was he couldn't go against his deeply ingrained sense of honor.

As he slid the door open, then closed it behind him he took in the subtle noise of the city after the hush of the apartment. He felt numb, disconnected, like his soul had been cut from his body and he was moving like a robot. Petrov tensed, but didn't look up. Today the older man was dressed in a pair of casual jeans and a deep green b.u.t.ton down shirt. In his hand he held a cut gla.s.s tumbler half full of clear liquid. Wyatt's mouth flooded with saliva at the thought of taking a deep, long drink of the vodka that was probably in that gla.s.s but he fought it.

He had more important s.h.i.t to focus on at the moment.

"I've been expecting you, Wyatt."

"What the f.u.c.k did you do to her?"

Petrov took another sip of his drink. "I did what she begged me to do."

"What, beat her then f.u.c.k her?"

The silver-haired man shook his head slowly, his gaze still on the city in the distance. "No, my helping Mich.e.l.le achieve catharsis is never s.e.xual."

Wyatt's breath left him in a harsh burst. "Catharsis? Don't you mean you beating the h.e.l.l out of her? You've done this to her before, you sick f.u.c.k?"

Petrov shoved himself out of his chair and stalked towards Wyatt until they stood less than a foot apart. "Listen to me, you ignorant a.s.shole. There is nothing, nothing, I wouldn't do to take away Mich.e.l.le's pain."

"Are you f.u.c.king kidding me? Beating her takes away her pain?" Wyatt wanted to hit Petrov so badly his hands shook, but he struggled to hold on, knowing Maya was watching them and remembering his promise to her.

"Yes, it does. She needs it."

"f.u.c.k that. Anything she needs I'll give to her, not you. She's my woman."

Petrov rubbed a weary hand over his face. "Did she tell you why she came to me?"

Thrown off his stride, Wyatt let out a bitter laugh. "No, I wasn't really in a talking mood when I left."

The other man studied him, the nodded. "She hurt you deeply. You truly had no idea she was coming here?"

"Do you think for one G.o.dd.a.m.n second I would allow anyone to lay one f.u.c.king finger on her?"

"No, no, you wouldn't. You love her and she loves you."

Wyatt swallowed hard and fought the burning in his eyes, the way his throat closed up. "I thought she did. But if you love someone you don't sneak around behind their back to go get your jollies by having someone hurt you."

Petrov closed his eyes and his nostrils flared. "We need to sit down to have this discussion before I knock you on your judgmental a.s.s."

"I'd like to see you try."

"You might be surprised." Petrov took a seat again. "A long time ago, in another life, I was a member of the KGB."

Curious despite his anger, Wyatt sat. "Great, so you have training on how to torture women."

"Do you love Mich.e.l.le, really love her?"

"With everything I am."

"Then you need to let go of your anger long enough to listen to what I have to say, or you will lose her."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, I am telling you the truth. And I do not mean she will leave you, or you her; I mean Mich.e.l.le will try to end her life."

That struck him like a blow to his heart. "What?"

"Do you know what penance is? What it means?"

His mind refused to work so he slowly shook his head.

"Mich.e.l.le, much like you, suffers from PTSD, she just hides it better. She always has. After all, her mother has been teaching Mich.e.l.le her whole life how to pretend to be perfect, even when she's dying on the inside." He held up his hand when Wyatt opened his mouth. "Wait, just listen. When Mich.e.l.le lost Owen she was suicidal. She tried to end her own life twice, though she doesn't remember it now. She was so far gone into a deep depression that those dark days are lost to her, memories too terrible for her conscious mind to deal with. She doesn't deal with guilt and sorrow like most people. You and I, it may be a struggle but we get over it. Something about Mich.e.l.le's mind, how she is made, makes it almost impossible to forgive herself."

He was so stunned by the thought of Mich.e.l.le trying to kill herself that he could barely remain standing. "But it wasn't her fault Owen died, she knows this."

"Ahh, her thinking mind knows this, but her subconscious? Not so much. Now I'm not a psychologist, I can only go by what I've experienced in my life, but the concept of penance is something as old as time so there must be a truth to it for some people. Personally, feeling physical pain would not help me atone for any sins, real or imagined, but for Mich.e.l.le it does ease the burden on her heart. Back in those dark days after Owen's pa.s.sing they tried everything to help her. Drugs, doctors, even electroshock therapy. Nothing broke her out of her downward spiral."

"f.u.c.k...I didn't know it was that bad."

Petrov snorted. "As if she would tell you? She wants you to see her as strong, indestructible. A portion of her believes that you will only love her if she is perfect. I like to lay the blame for that on her mother, but it is also a part of who Mich.e.l.le is."

"But she let you know." He couldn't keep his jealousy out of his voice realizing on some level how f.u.c.ked up it was that he was envious that Mich.e.l.le went to Petrov for a beating.

"Because she doesn't love me like she loves you." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "When Owen betrayed her trust by cheating on her, even though they were apart at the time, he dealt a significant blow to her psyche. She probably would have gotten over it, been able to believe that she was worthy of his love, but with his pa.s.sing soon after she never really had that chance."

"But why the beatings? Help me understand because right now I have no f.u.c.king clue what to do to help her and it's killing me."

"Enduring physical pain helps her get rid of what she perceives as her sins. It is hard to explain, but to her each hurt, each ache cleanses her soul just like the beatings the church used to do would cleanse people's souls of sin, like the paddlings she received in Catholic school when she broke the rules. In her mind, she is forgiven for her transgressions. Today she came to me because the guilt of loving you more than she ever loved Owen was killing her."

"What?"

"Wyatt, she loves you more than she's ever loved anyone, but part of her PTSD revolves around Owen and the misplaced guilt over his death. In loving you she feels as if she is betraying the promise she made to Owen, but she cannot help it. You mean everything to her, and she wanted to cleanse her soul for you. She wanted to be worthy of your love and would pay any price to make it so."

He closed his eyes, his heart breaking for Mich.e.l.le, for his beautiful, screwed up, and more fragile than he'd ever imagined Mistress. "f.u.c.k. Where the h.e.l.l do we go from here? I can't have her running off to you every time something bad happens."

Petrov nodded. "I agree, but she doesn't believe you can give her the level of punishment she would need in order to complete her penance. This is not about you forgiving her, it's about Mich.e.l.le forgiving herself and she can't do that without punishment. Tell me, Wyatt, could you have caned her until she screamed?"

Just the thought made him sick. "f.u.c.k no."

"Yet that is the amount of pain she feels she needs."

"So, what a since I can't beat her I'm going to lose her?"

"No...no. There are other ways to do penance besides the pain of a cleansing beating." He sat back and studied Wyatt. "I believe you are far more inclined to be Dominant than submissive with anyone but Mich.e.l.le. For you, she is the one and only woman in the world who calls to you as a Mistress. I would guess that before this you were always in charge with your relationships, yes?"

He shrugged. "I never really got into the whole BDSM thing, but yeah, I guess you could say I was in charge. If there was any spanking going on, I was the one giving it, but they were always light spankings, playful even. Not like the kind Mich.e.l.le gives me."

"Very good. Has Mich.e.l.le told you that she is a switch?"

"She mentioned something about it, but I'm not sure exactly what you mean."

"Mich.e.l.le is mostly dominant, but every once in a while she likes to a.s.sume the role of a submissive. It is...freeing for her, but difficult for her to put aside her dominant nature for long. It always rises to the surface." He smiled and shook his head. "It never fails to amuse and annoy me to think of how people on the outside view BDSM, that everything is stark black and white, one true way or no way at all. It couldn't be further from the truth. BDSM, as with all things related to the human spirit, is an ever-changing and complex balance of dominance and submission. We are not static creatures, trapped in a prison that never allows us to grow and change. We are always moving, always growing and sometimes that growth takes us in a different direction than we'd normally go."

"Okay, but what does this have to do with me and Mich.e.l.le?"

"Her need for penance. It does not have to be physical, all she needs is to feel truly punished, that she is paying a price. And for Mich.e.l.le, having to choke down her pride and her natural dominance would be a punishment that she would feel down to her soul." He tapped his lips as he examined Wyatt. "I believe you could be a very formidable Dominant, with the right training."

"Wait, I don't want to be her Dom. I love being her submissive and I'm not bulls.h.i.tting. Serving her makes me...it makes me complete."

"I understand that, but in being her Dominant you would be serving her needs, just in a different way than she has exposed you to."

"So, what, you teach me a few tricks of the trade and I dominate her when she needs it?"

"No, I would not teach you a few tricks, I would train you fully. Mich.e.l.le is too well trained herself to let you get away with being a half-a.s.sed Top. She would sense the uncertainty in you on some deep level and her submission would never be true. And if it's not true, it will never fulfill her need for penance. But if you can get her to submit, to accept your punishment, then she will turn to you in her times of need instead of to me, or even worse, keeping those emotions bottled up until she explodes and self-destructs. Which is what happened today. She was not in her rational mind when she came here, Wyatt, but she is very, very good at acting the part. h.e.l.l, she manipulated me and I've been trained on how to detect any falsehoods."

Wyatt felt something marginally relax inside of him as he turned the idea over in his head. While he was more comfortable with Mich.e.l.le taking the dominant role in their s.e.xual relationship, the part of him that wanted to be her knight in shining armor was more than willing to do whatever it took to help her be not only happy, but whole. Their relationship had no future if she didn't trust him to be strong enough to give her what she needed, however unconventional that might be. And with Petrov, he had the added advantage of training with someone who really knew her.

"When can we start?"

"I have some conditions. One, you cannot see Mich.e.l.le during your training."

"No f.u.c.king way."

"Wait, hear me out. She needs to be punished for betraying you like this. If you forgive her so easily she will not believe she has truly earned your forgiveness and will not forgive herself." He sat back in his chair again and picked up his drink, sipping it before he continued. "James and Yuki will be with Mich.e.l.le, and they will watch over her during your training. When you reappear in her life you will need to be fully in Dominant mode, able to take complete control. If she is truly repentant she will eagerly do whatever you wish to earn your forgiveness, but she won't expect it to last very long. That is where the true punishment and healing comes in."

"What do you mean?"

"You will need to take her someplace isolated, out of her environment, and help her rebuild herself, but at the same time, you will need to be strict, even harsh with her. Can you do that?"

Wyatt thought back to his days as a drill instructor. "I can, but you need to tell me why I would do that to her, to both of us. It's eating me alive right now to go back to her and hold her, to tell her everything will be okay, that I forgive her."

"But if you do that everything won't be all right, Wyatt, and I highly doubt you've truly forgiven her."

"What are you, my shrink?"

"That brings me to the second requirement of my training. You will stay here, in Chicago, as my guest. And while you are here, you will go to see a therapist of your choice to help you deal with your PTSD. You will work on getting yourself as healthy as you can be both physically and mentally."

He stiffened and said through clenched teeth. "Who told you I have PTSD?"

"Does it matter? It is nothing to be ashamed of." Petrov's gaze went distant and his features tightened. "We have all seen things, done things in the name of war that haunt us. It does not make you weak, or broken. The only thing that would make you weak is pretending that if you ignore it, the pain, the things that keep you awake at night will go away. Trust me, I know. Brave men face their fears; cowards stick their heads in the sand and pretend they don't exist. You know as well as I do that you are no good to Mich.e.l.le if you are not in a solid place, because she is going to fight you and challenge you every step of the way."