Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 197

Chapter 197

My fingers hovered uncertainly over the keyboard before I finally began to type.

> Master Hale,

It would be my pleasure to attend. Unfortunately, this time it will be just me—Xion is no longer with me.

If that is still acceptable, I will see you on the 22nd.

– A.

I paused, my thumb hovering over the send button. Doubt flickered through me, but in the end, there was nothing left to lose. With a quiet breath, I pressed send.

Less than an hour later, the reply arrived. Hale’s message was gracious and courteous, yet beneath the politeness lay an unmistakable warmth—one that felt both comforting and unrelenting.

> I’m truly sorry to hear about Xion’s departure, my friend. You know the door here is always open for you. There will be no shortage of submissives eager to serve, perform, or even train under your guidance when you’re ready. We would be honored to have you join our celebration.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the words until the edges blurred. “Submissives eager to serve.” The phrase scraped something raw and exposed inside me. There would be others—dozens, maybe hundreds—beautiful, willing, perfectly trained. But none of them would be him. Never him.

For the first time, I wondered what letting go really meant. Not just the absence of his presence, but the quiet decision to stop battling the emptiness he left behind.

If Noah had managed to move on, perhaps it was time for me to try as well.

God help me, I wasn’t sure I had the strength.

By the time December 22nd arrived, I’d stopped pretending the ache would ever fade. Instead, I did what I always did when the world spun out of control—I built armor.

Black leather trousers hugged my legs, a fitted vest molded to my torso, and gloves soft as sin covered my hands. The old collar gleamed coldly on the dresser where I’d left it—the one that used to rest against Noah’s throat. My fingers brushed the smooth metal briefly before I turned away. I could still see him wearing it: bare skin, leather thong, coat slipping off his shoulders like a secret shared only with me. The memory brought a bitter, helpless smile to my lips.

I swallowed hard. “I appreciate the offer, Hale, but…” My voice cracked. “I don’t trust myself with a submissive right now. Not in this state of mind.”

A brief silence stretched between us—then a voice cut through, rich and calm, from behind.

“But I do.”

Every muscle in my body froze. I turned slowly, half-afraid I was imagining it.

A few feet away stood Micah, dressed in a sleek white thong and a leather choker woven with silver chain mesh. His eyes sparkled with that familiar blend of warmth and danger.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

Crossing Lines