Dom dropped the note on the coffee table then came and sat beside me on the couch, a brief wince the only evidence that sitting down was uncomfortable. He grabbed both my hands and gave them a squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, and the tears I’d been fighting since I stepped through the door rose closer to the surface. “I’m sure he’s not thinking straight right now, but when he’s had a little time to calm down, he’ll listen to reason.”

I wished I could believe that. Maybe if there hadn’t been so many other problems in our relationship, I would have. But honestly, we’d been fighting an uphill battle to stay together anyway, and I wasn’t sure our love could survive a blow like this. Right now, I was the walking wounded, my heart bleeding all over the floor and my soul bathed in pain. But when that first wave of pain and shock began to ebb, I knew what would follow: fury.

Yes, I understood that the evidence looked damning. If there’d been nothing but the photo, or if there’d been nothing but the note, I probably could have convinced Brian that it wasn’t true. I knew the two together had been a devastating one-two punch, especially when I’d acted so guilty over the note. So in many ways, Brian’s reaction had been perfectly reasonable, and it should have been hard for me to blame him.

But it wasn’t.

How could he know me as well as he did and still believe I would cheat on him? I wasn’t even willing to cheat on him in my dreams, despite the constant temptation Lugh threw my way. I’m the first to admit I have plenty of flaws, but fooling around on the man I love wasn’t one of them.

How could he have believed it of me? And even if he could somehow come to see the truth, even if he could somehow come to forgive me, the question remained—how could I ever forgive him.?

I gently extracted my hands from Dom’s grip and leaned back into the cushions of the sofa. The elephant was still sitting on my chest, and holding my head up was more trouble than it was worth.

“I assume our faux-reporter friend is the source,” Adam mused.

“Why don’t you leave your investigation hat in the closet for a while,” Dominic suggested softly.

I shook my head. “Thanks, Dom,” I said, forcing what I’m sure was a pathetic imitation of a smile. “I appreciate the thought, but I need to keep my mind occupied. From the content of that note, it sure sounds like she broke into this house. If she conveniently left some evidence behind…”

“Did you tell anyone about what happened that day?” Adam asked me.

I shuddered. “No.” I couldn’t look at him, fearing I would remember the terror that had shaken me as I waited for the lash.

“Dom?” Adam asked, and I saw Dom’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Why would I tell anyone?”

Adam shook his head. “Just asking. I’d have an easier time believing Barbara found out because someone let something slip in a conversation than that she broke into the house and found the whip.”

I winced. Adam could talk about this so calmly, not the least bit troubled by the hell he’d put me through. I had for the most part managed to suppress the memories, but clearly Barbie’s little fishing expedition had dredged it all up.

“Besides,” Adam continued, “only an amateur doesn’t clean his whips when—”

“Adam, shut up,” Dom interrupted as he slipped his arm around my shoulders protectively.

The corners of Adam’s mouth tightened, but he stopped talking. I found myself leaning into Dominic’s body. Since he wasn’t into women, Dom was probably the only man—other than my brother, who seemed to have checked out of the human race— I could accept a hug from right now without having to worry about what signals I was sending. And I badly needed that hug.

Without another word, Adam stood up and left the room. Great. Now he was pissed off, too.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, and Dom gave me another squeeze.

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

I groaned. “If only that were true.” A little self-pity, anyone? But I had ample justification for it.

Dom ignored my whining. “You look like a woman badly in need of a drink,” he said.

I had to bite my tongue to quell the protest I wanted to utter when he let go of me.

“I don’t want a drink,” I said instead. I’ve never been much of a drinker, and I was upset enough that my stomach threatened to toss anything I put in it back up.

“I’ll get you one anyway. You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to, but it’ll be here if you want it.” He flashed me a sad little smile, and I nodded in acquiescence. Dom stood up and reached his hand out to me.

“I’ll wait here.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, you won’t. Come on.”

It would have taken more energy than I had to argue, so I took his hand and let him drag me to my feet. I followed him into the kitchen and took a seat at the table.

Dom knew my tastes well enough not to try to convince me to drink anything too hard and manly. Instead, he made a perfect, frothy cappuccino and then added a generous shot of Frangelico. Adam’s host had made that drink for me once, and it had been damn good. And despite my misery, the smell of first-class coffee was more than I could resist. When he put the cup in front of me, I immediately picked it up and took a sip.

I couldn’t help smiling a little in wonder. “You are an absolute genius in the kitchen,” I said, savoring the smooth, sweet aftertaste.

“Thanks.”

I took another sip, trying to focus all my attention on how delicious the drink was. Dom sat next to me at the head of the table, and his presence was a balm on my wounded soul. I realized he was the one man I knew who was just an uncomplicated friend, not someone who wanted something out of me. That realization threatened to bring on the tears, so I shoved it aside and drank more coffee.

My devastated mental state left most of my barriers and shields down, and I found myself asking Dom something that under ordinary circumstances I’d never have even considered asking.

“How can you like it when Adam hurts you?” I immediately regretted the question, but Dom didn’t look offended.

“I like it because when he hurts me, it doesn’t really hurt.”

“Huh?”

He smiled at me. “I can’t believe you’re actually asking me about this. You usually look like you’re going to die of embarrassment if we even vaguely allude to anything you might consider kinky.”

I stared at the foam in my coffee cup. “I guess I’m hoping you’ll say the magic words that will somehow help me deal with what Adam did to me. I’ve never really dealt with it, you know? I just kind of… pretended it didn’t happen.”

“The only thing that happened is you got beat up,” Dom said. I gave him an indignant look, but he went on before I could put my thoughts into words. “The fact that he used a tool that can be a BDSM toy to do it is irrelevant. It wasn’t about BDSM, it was about a seriously pissed-off demon getting his pound of flesh. You know there’s a big difference, don’t you?”

I heaved a sigh. “Yeah.” I wouldn’t say I came close to understanding the dynamics of Adam’s relationship with Dom, but I knew what Dom was saying was true. “Can we just forget I started this conversation?”

Dom was silent for a moment, but I wasn’t surprised when he ignored my request.

“When Adam plays with me,” he said, “I’m in something like an altered state. Some people describe it as ‘subspace.’ When I’m in that subspace, pain doesn’t really register as pain. It’s just a very strong physical sensation.” One corner of his mouth lifted, though I think he was trying to suppress his smile. “One I happen to like.” The half-smile faded. “But the point is, I have to be in that subspace to like it. I’m not really a masochist. Under ordinary circumstances, I’m as anxious to avoid pain as anyone else.

“It’s Adam’s job as my dominant to help me find my way into that subspace.” Dom grinned. “He’s very good at it, though he’s not a natural. Demons don’t need to be in subspace to enjoy pain. For them, it’s all about the novelty of physical sensation. When I was hosting Saul, there was almost no dominance and submission going on between him and Adam—it was all about sensation play.