"Oh, Ana," he breathes, and he twists and pulls me down on to the floor so that I am underneath him. I bring my hands up to cup his beautiful face, and in that moment, I feel his tears.
He's crying... no. No!
"Christian, please, don't cry. I meant it when I said I'd never leave you. I did. If I gave you any other impression, I'm so sorry... please, please forgive me. I love you. I will always love you."
He looms over me, gazing down into my face, and his expression is so pained.
"What is it?"
His eyes grow larger.
"What is this secret that makes you think I'll run for the hills? That makes you so determined to believe I'll go?" I plead, my voice tremulous. "Tell me, Christian, please... "
He sits up, though this time he crosses his legs and I follow suit, my legs outstretched.
Vaguely I wonder if we can get off the floor? But I don't want to interrupt his train of thought. He's finally going to confide in me.
He gazes down at me, and he looks utterly desolate. Oh shit - it's bad.
"Ana..." He pauses, searching for the words, his expression pained... Oh? Where the hell is this going?
He takes a deep breath and swallows. "I'm a sadist, Ana. I like to whip little brown-haired girls like you because you all look like the crack whore - my birth mother. I'm sure you can guess why." He says it in a rush as if he's had the sentence in his head for days and days and is desperate to be rid of it.
My world stops. Oh no.
This is not what I expected. This is bad. Really bad. I gaze at him, trying to understand the implication of what he's just said. It does explain why we all look the same.
My immediate thought is that Leila was right - "Master is dark. "
I recall the first conversation I had with him about his tendencies when we were in the Red Room of Pain.
"You said you weren't a sadist," I whisper, desperately trying to understand... make some excuse for him.
"No, I said I was a Dominant. If I lied to you, it was a lie of omission. I'm sorry." He looks briefly down at his manicured fingernails.
I think he's mortified. Mortified about lying to me? Or about what he is?
"When you asked me that question, I had envisioned a very different relationship between us," he murmurs. I can tell by his gaze that he's terrified.
Then it hits me like a wrecking ball. If he's a sadist, he really needs all that whipping and caning shit. Oh f**k. I put my head in my hands.
"So it's true," I whisper, glancing up at him. "I can't give you what you need." This is it - this really does mean we are incompatible.
The world starts falling away at my feet, collapsing around me as panic grips my throat. This is it. We can't do this.
He frowns. "No, No, No. Ana. No. You can. You do give me what I need." He clenches his fists. "Please believe me," he murmurs, his words an impassioned plea.
"I don't know what to believe, Christian. This is so f**ked-up," I whisper, my throat hoarse and aching as it closes in, choking me with unshed tears.
His eyes are wide and luminous when he looks at me again.
"Ana, believe me. After I punished you and you left me, my worldview changed. I wasn't joking when I said I would avoid ever feeling like that again." He gazes at me with pained entreaty. "When you said you loved me, it was a revelation. No one's ever said it to me before, and it was as if I'd laid something to rest - or maybe you'd laid it to rest, I don't know. Dr. Flynn and I are still in deep discussion about it."
Oh. Hope flares briefly in my heart. Perhaps we'll be okay. I want us to be okay. Don't I? "What does that all mean?" I whisper.
"It means I don't need it. Not now."
What? "How do you know? How can you be so sure?"
"I just know. The thought of hurting you... in any real way... it's abhorrent to me."
"I don't understand. What about rulers and spanking and all that kinky f**kery?"
He runs a hand through his hair and almost smiles but instead sighs ruefully. "I'm talking about the heavy shit, Anastasia. You should see what I can do with a cane or a cat."
My mouth drops open, stunned. "I'd rather not."
"I know. If you wanted to do that, then fine... but you don't and I get it. I can't do all that shit with you if you don't want to. I told you once before, you have all the power. And now, since you came back, I don't feel that compulsion, at all."
I gape at him for a moment trying to take this all in. "When we met, that's what you wanted, though?"
"Yes, undoubtedly."
"How can your compulsion just go, Christian? Like I'm some kind of panacea, and you're - for want of a better word - cured? I don't get it."
He sighs once more. "I wouldn't say cured... You don't believe me?"
"I just find it - unbelievable. Which is different."
"If you'd never left me, then I probably wouldn't feel this way. You walking out on me was the best thing you ever did... for us. It made me realize how much I want you, just you, and I mean it when I say I'll take you any way I can have you."
I gaze at him. Can I believe this? My head hurts just trying to think this all through, and deep down I feel... numb.
"You're still here. I thought you would be out of the door by now," he whispers.
"Why? Because I might think you're a sicko for whipping and f**king women who look like your mother? Whatever would give you that impression?" I hiss at him, lashing out.He blanches at my harsh words.
"Well, I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but yes," he says, his eyes wide and hurt.
His expression is sobering and I regret my outburst. I frown, feeling a pang of guilt.