“I know you know, because half our fucking conversations are about how you’re burning out.”
“It’ll get better, now that I’ve accepted a fellowship placement?—”
“Will it?” As far as he understood, a fellowship was only slightly better than residency work-wise, and she’d already signed on to be part of a study during the two-year fellowship.
“What are you saying, Leon?”
“I love you, Cessie.”
“But?”
“But I don’t know if I can bear to watch you burn up like you’re flying too close to the sun. You don’t trust me anymore?—”
He held up his hand when she started to protest.
“You don’t trust me anymore,” he began again, “and I understand, because I’m not sure I trust you anymore either. I don’t trust you to take care of yourself. You don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s happening in your life.”
Cessie bent her head, looking down at her hands. “So, this is it.”
“No.”
Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise.
“I’m not going to give you up without a fight.”
Relief flashed across her features.
“But something has to change. We have to reset. Learn to trust, and prioritize, one another again.”
“How?”
Leon stood and reached down, offering her a hand. “I heard about a place, from a friend at the club. We’d have to apply to visit, but I think it might be what we need.”
“What place?”
“It’s called Rawhide Ranch.”
CHAPTER 4
One Day Before the Cage
“You ride?”
Leon turned at the sound of a man’s voice. He’d been leaning on a fence watching the horses.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.” Leon held out a hand. “Leon Dabrowski.”
The other man took his hand, shook it. “Arlo Flint. You’re a guest?” Arlo tipped his head toward the large U-shaped resort building where Leon had checked in only hours ago.
“Yes. My girlfriend and I. Staying up there tonight, and then tomorrow we’re moving to a private cabin.” Not that Cessie knew it yet. Hopefully by tomorrow she’d be relaxed into the power exchange enough that little things like where they were sleeping wouldn’t bother her, because she’d trust him to take care of it. Take care of her.
“Sounds like you’ve got a plan.”
“I do.” Leon turned back to the pasture, but he wasn’t looking at the horses. He was looking up at the sky, at the bird of prey currently riding an updraft—spiraling higher, higher.
Leon smiled, anticipation making his blood heat. “Tell me, Arlo, do you know much about falconry?”
Cessie sat stiffly, the corset feeling strange and restrictive after going so long without wearing one. The Rawhide Ranch Dungeon lounge was dim, the low purple and amber lighting glancing off the flecks of mica in the floor. Below them, six steps led down into the Dungeon play space where scenes unfolded under the careful watch of Dungeon Monitors. The air was thick with the scent of leather, sex, and baby powder.
