“Let’s go with Domino and Envy’s agenda item first,” he said, and gave a half smile with it.
“There’s an agenda with line items?” I said.
He laughed. “You should see your face, so woebegone.”
“I hate meetings.” I brought both my hands up to raise my coffee to my mouth. I didn’t want to touch anyone right that minute. I felt like they were ganging up on me, managing me, and I didn’t like it.
Nathaniel put his hand on my thigh underneath the table, rubbing gently on it through the silk of my robe. I fought the urge to push his hand away. I wanted him to touch me, but I didn’t like realizing that everyone at this table knew the topic of conversation except me.
Domino began to rub my shoulders, fingers finding the bare skin of my neck underneath my hair, kneading the suddenly tense muscles, then moving upward just past the hairline so he could snake his fingers up to knead, and press, and let me feel the strength in his hand in that sweet spot where neck and skull merge. It damn near rolled my eyes back into my head, and did make me close my eyes.
Nathaniel’s hand pressed harder, proving that there was strength in his fingers that he didn’t normally use, but it was still there. They both tightened their grip at the same time and I had to fight not to react more to it than was polite at breakfast. Someone took my coffee cup out of my hand, or I’d probably have dropped it.
Nathaniel loosened his grip on my thigh and then Domino moved his hand back to just hugging the back of my shoulders. This time I slumped into the curve of his arm, snuggling against his body. I could snuggle tighter because he hadn’t put his body armor on; most of the guards didn’t bother unless they were going to work with me. He lowered his grip so that he was actually partially supporting me, or I might have slithered out of the chair and into the floor; silk is slippery when your muscles go all liquid.
“Wow,” Envy said, “that was . . . wow.”
I tried to look at her, but my eyes still weren’t focusing just right. I started to try to fight free of that warm, afterglow sensation, but Nathaniel stroked my thigh, gently, and said, “It’s okay, Anita, just relax into it.”
I started to do what my beloved pussycat’s voice told me, and then Envy kept talking and I needed to pay attention. I fought my way through to the surface of all that relaxation, and yummy reminders of earlier this morning, and just . . . They’d hit two of my happy trigger spots, and with the right people, under the right circumstances, it unmanned me, or would that be unwomaned me?
“Can you actually hear me?” she asked, and lowered her face down to peer at me.
I was still snuggled into the corner of Domino’s body, his grip across my shoulders holding me in place. The press of his shoulder holster and extra ammo on his belt wasn’t uncomfortable; it was actually sort of reassuring. When you hang around with as many dangerous people as I do, the guns and stuff are just part of it all. I wrapped my arms around his waist to help hold myself up, and wrapping my arms around his waist wasn’t a bad thing. It helped continue to ease that tension that had tried to assert itself and make me start tearing at everything, and everyone, around me. Rage had been almost my only emotion once, and it was still comforting in that dysfunctional way in which people will prefer something unpleasant, but familiar, to something pleasant, but unfamiliar. Sometimes I thought I’d been pushed so far outside my comfort zone that I’d break, and other times I realized that comfort zones were more like prison bars; they protected you, but they also trapped you. I didn’t want to be trapped, not even by myself.
“Yes,” I said, voice a little thick and almost sleepy sounding. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I hear you, Envy.”
“If Richard put his hand back there and pulled your hair, would you enjoy it?”
I blinked at her, studying the intelligence in her gaze, the force of will that was in there. Those were the things that made Envy work for Jean-Claude and for Richard; passive wasn’t something either of them enjoyed.
“Under the right circumstances, yes,” I said.
She shook her head, raised her tea as if to drink it, and then put it back down untouched. “It just hurts when he does it to me.”
“Then he shouldn’t do it,” I said.
“It’s like he needs to do it to someone, or with someone.”
“He does.”
“Why?” she asked.
That made me frown and have to straighten up from the extreme cuddle position I was in, as if I couldn’t think as deeply sitting like that. I patted Domino’s thigh, letting him know that I wasn’t mad, just needed to sit up. I took Nathaniel’s hand off my thigh and into my hand, letting him know, too, that I was all right, and that I wasn’t going to let my discomfort get out of hand and make me lash out again; that was childish, and I wasn’t a child anymore.
“Can I take this one?” Jason asked.
“Be my guest,” I said.
“Enjoying pain with your pleasure is something either you get, or you don’t. If you get it, then you don’t really need it explained, because you know how good it feels, and if you don’t get it, then no amount of talking is going to convince you it makes sense.”
“Sounds like you’ve practiced that speech,” I said.
He frowned, and it seemed to dim his light all the way through. “I’ve been trying to explain it to J.J.”
“Not going well, I take it?”