He’s a vampire. I knew that from the first night we met. And I know what vampires are capable of. I know it better than most people. It’s my job to know, after all. My job to track down vampires who kill and punish them. I’ve seen a few bodies, drained of their blood, two bite marks at the crook of their necks. I’ve seen scared, frantic, hysterical people who still didn’t feel safe even after the vampire who scared them was banned from entering their home.
He’s also a submissive, and that, too, I knew from the start. He expects things from me that I have no issues giving to him, but that’s a part of my life I always confined to discreet clubs before. I’ve never had an exclusive sub. I’ve never lived with a sub. This… this is a huge change. A huge step forward.
And if it’s a mistake, it’s going to be a huge mistake.
I trust him, though. I trust him more than I ever trusted anyone, including my ex back in the early, happy days of our marriage. I trust him not to bite and hurt anyone. Not strangers at the club, not me, not my daughter or mother. I trust him to keep the BDSM part of our lives where it belongs: behind closed doors, away from innocent little eyes. I trust that he wants this to work just as much as I do.
And I do want this. In the past few months, every time I went to spend a few hours with him it became increasingly hard to find reasons not to do this. After all, I told myself, Laura met him, and liked him – and I know he liked her too. Same with my mother. Even after I told Mom that he’s a vampire, her opinion of him didn’t change.
“Who cares if he has fangs,” she said, “as long as he makes you happy? He does make you happy, right?”
He does. He really does. And it’s not just the submissive part of him, either; it’s nice, of course, to let the Domme part of me out to play, but it’s not enough. It’s not just the sex either – although that too is really, really nice. It’s just… him. The way he looks at me. The way he smiles. His patience with Laura as he teaches her how to draw. The way he tries to learn to cook my favorite dishes. And a thousand other little things that add up to this certainty:
No, I did not make a mistake when I asked Ray to move in with us.
