EXTRACT FOR
The Gryphon's Submissive
(Fiaine Cluiun)
Ellie groaned and reached for the phone, scrambling with her fingers to locate it. Whatever it was this time, the caller wasn't welcome. Sleep had been hard pressed, and every night for the past four, she'd been woken by unwanted calls by neighbors she wouldn't know if she met them in the middle of the street. But what else did she expect, she was a newcomer to the area, and every man in a twenty-mile radius, if not more, had found some excuse to contact her.
"Hello?" She coughed and cleared her throat. "Sorry, hello? Who is this?" A voice she barely recognized replied and for a moment she wasn't sure what he was going on about.
Bob. Alright. That was one of the older men and if he hadn't been on the edge of retirement, she'd have named him as one of the unwanted suitors. Hah. Suitors. Who even used that word anymore?
"No, I don't have any animals on the property. Not yet at least." Ellie scowled and glanced at the time. It wasn't horribly late, not quite nine, but wasn't there some unwritten rule about not calling after nine or did that only apply to telemarketers? "Bob, I only moved in three weeks ago, and I've barely had time to unpack." Partially because of the amount of damned male visitors. Sure, there'd been a handful of women baring baked goods, but even they'd had company with them. A brother, cousin, son, nephew, all of them single.
No one had warned her, when she'd bought the place, that she'd suddenly become one of the most sought-after women in the county. Nor had she been told there was a serious lack of unmarried women in the area.
"No, I'm certain it's not mine. When would I find the time to go and buy an animal? I wouldn't even know where to start. We're talking about a dog, or a cat, right?" It had to be a stray that had wandered onto the property, but then why would the man be calling her at this time of night over a damned mutt? Or barn cat?
Her scowl shifted into a deep frown. "A large cat like thing with something on its back?" Okay, the man was obviously drunk, that was the only possibility that made sense. Cat thing? She shook off the idea and fought to keep her temper under control. "Fine, fine. I'll take a look outside and see if I can spot anything. If there is anything out there, it's not mine."
She paused as he continued.
"No, it's alright. I'll let you know if I need any help." She sighed and rose from the couch. When had she fallen asleep? The sun had still been high in the sky, but it was after lunch. Ellie glanced at the card table. The bowl, with the remains of her soup, still sat there.
Damn, she couldn't keep doing that. She didn't need to check the bowl to know she'd barely eaten. Again. "No, I promise, I'll call you back if there's a problem. Thanks." She ended the call before he had a chance to continue. The man could talk the hind legs off a donkey.
Ellie slid her feet into the rubber boots she'd learned to keep on hand since moving in. That was one of the few good pieces of advice she'd garnered since moving in, and after the first rainfall she'd never made the mistake of keeping the boots out of reach.
She grabbed the bowl, taking a moment to scrape then rinse it out. If there was something out there a few extra minutes wasn't going to make a difference.
What was she supposed to do even if there was something out there? Something bigger than a cat or a dog? Maybe one of the wildcats? Mountain lions, right? Anything of that size was out of her league. It wasn't as if she had a place where she could secure the beast, whatever it might be. And if it was dangerous, what was she supposed to do then?
Maybe it was a man? Or several? Working together to try and frighten her into rushing into a decision. As if she'd even agreed to the idea of dating yet? Yet was too soon. She'd not had enough time to recover, to grieve, to mourn, and they'd been around her like damned flies.
Ellie pulled on her jacket, stuffed her cell phone into her pocket, and headed for the back door. No matter what was going on, this was now her home, and she had to make the best of it. That also meant coping with any problems thrown her way.
It wasn't as if Alex was-
Her chest tightened and tears clouded her vision before she had a chance to gather herself. Alex. Her sweet, gentle, loving husband.
Images swam before her eyes.
The two men, their uniforms, standing there. Meaningless words of condolences and pain.
A band of unyielding steel wrapped about her heart, tightening with each breath. Images flashed again and again, each one faster and more painful than the one before. Standing with his family and their friends as they'd taken turns to speak of their loss. Spoken of their memories, the goodness of the man now taken from them, and the way Alex had been loved by all.
She blinked again, but it didn't stop the tears from falling as she scuffed them away.
Their loss.
Their memories.
Two years of sad faces and stories stopped halfway through for fear the words might hurt her, or perhaps them. Awkward silences when she'd walked into a room, and their obvious relief when she'd walked away.
Worse had come the suggestions that she move on. Date. Do something with her life. She didn't have to spend the rest of her days alone. Not a woman of her years.
Stop it.
He was gone, she was alone, and their pain, their grief hadn't truly taken hers into account. How could it be when they had no idea what she'd lost with him. Not only her love, but her dominant.
Her master.
They'd never see that part, only the still young widow, not the woman who'd learned to kneel at his feet. They'd have been disgusted by her submission, revolted by his actions, how she'd danced to the whip, knelt at his feet, given herself to him in every way a woman could.
No man could replace him.
He wouldn't want me to spend the rest of my life grieving.
But how could she stop it when he was still there, in her heart, marking her flesh in more ways than she could ever share with them. The tattoo, the mark of his ownership, hidden from all but those who'd been at the events with them. But even that had no longer been a safe place for her to flee to.
Too many predators with only a few willing to give her the time she needed to heal.
The wound of his passing was a scar, but even a scar could still hurt, still burn with pain when touched the wrong way.
That was why she'd moved, not only the vanilla's, the norms, those who would never understand the beauty in submission, in trusting a dominant, in the hundred small things she'd done on a daily basis for her Master.
A clean break, a place to rebuild and find a new life. One where she'd stay away from the pleasures of pain and domination, of lash and cord.
She pushed back against the grief and took a deep breath, fighting to find her strength and focus once more.
It wasn't easy and she had no idea how long she stayed with her head leaning against the door. Ellie only knew that when she began to move again, her muscles were stiff, and her head stuffed from tears that laid salt heavy tracks down her cheeks. This wasn't how the world was supposed to be. The young weren't supposed to die, to be stripped of all vitality and hope, yet it had happened and there was no undoing the damage.
Alex was gone and she was stronger than this, a fighter, a woman who could find herself in a place where she wasn't a wife, widow, or slave without a master.