Fifty Shades Darker (book 5)

Chapter 111

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She’s slaying my demons.

My brave girl.

My beautiful brave girl.

My face is wet. My vision is blurred. But I feel my way to her and pull her into my arms, my hands in

her hair. I turn her face up to mine and claim her lips. Feeling her. Consuming her. Needing her.

“Oh, Ana,” I whisper in veneration as I worship her mouth. I pull her down onto the floor and she

cups my face and I don’t know if the wet is from her tears or mine.

“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.”

I look down at her, trying to accept what she’s just said.

She says she loves me, that she will always love me.

But she doesn’t know me.

She doesn’t know the monster.

The monster is not worthy of her love.

“What is it?” she says. “What is this secret that makes you think I’ll run for the hills? That makes you

so determined to believe I’ll go? Tell me, Christian, please?”

She has a right to know. As long as we are together, this will always be an obstacle between us.

She deserves the truth. Against my better judgment, I have to tell her.

I sit up and cross my legs and she sits up, too, staring at me. Her eyes are round and fearful,

reflecting my feelings exactly.

“Ana.” I pause and take a deep breath.

Tell her, Grey.

Get it out. Then you’ll know.

“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.” The words tumble out of my mouth in a rush

like they’ve been ready and waiting for days.

She remains impassive. Still. Quiet.

Please, Ana.

Finally, she speaks, and her voice is a frail whisper. “You said you weren’t a sadist.”

“No, I said I was a Dominant. If I lied to you, it was a lie of omission. I’m sorry.” I can’t look at her.

I’m ashamed. I stare down at my fingers. Like she does. But she remains mute, so I’m forced to NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

look at her. “When you asked me that question, I had envisioned a very different relationship

between us,” I add.

It’s the truth.

Ana’s eyes widen, and suddenly she covers her face with her hands. She can’t bear to look at me.

“So it’s true,” she whispers, and when she removes her hands, her face is alabaster. “I can’t give

you what you need.”

What? “No. No. No. Ana. No. You can. You do give me what I need. Please believe me.”

“I don’t know what to believe, Christian. This is so fucked up.” Her voice is choked with emotion.

“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. 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.”

“What does that all mean?”

“It means I don’t need it. Not now.”

“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 fuckery?”

“I’m talking about the heavy shit, Anastasia. You should see what I can do with a cane or a cat.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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. Your 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.”

She stares at me. Impassive? Confused? I don’t know.

“You’re still here. I thought you would be out of the door by now.”

“Why? Because I might think you’re a sicko for whipping and fucking women who look like your

mother? Whatever would give you that impression?” she snaps.

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