At first glance, the house seemed empty.

And almost too beautiful for anyone to actually live there.

If Landon’s suites and condos in New York were black and leather, his estate in Vermont was stone and ice. It was just as much of a castle on the inside as it was on the outside – two winding staircases rose from the foyer, twisting up toward the second floor. The far wall was pure windows, giving a spectacular view of the snow-covered mountings in the distance, which were covered in a fog that swirled around the still-falling snow.

But even though the seemed still and undisturbed, as soon as I got inside I could feel that someone was there.

My sister, specifically.

There were signs of Violet everywhere. The pair of black Uggs she always wore tossed haphazardly in the front hall, her puffy purple North Face jacket hanging on the hook by the door, a copy of one of the historical romance novels she loved sitting on a mosaic glass table.

But what really gave it away was the smell of spaghetti sauce that wafted into the foyer – the unmistakable bite of oregano and fresh tomatoes, mixed with the spice of garlic and basil.

My mother’s recipe, passed on from my grandmother, who had died when Violet and I were little, and the one my sister and I had cooked together so many times I couldn’t count. It was practically the only thing we knew how to cook, and one of the only links we had to our past.

Sure enough, I heard the clatter of a spoon coming from the kitchen – although I couldn’t tell exactly where that was in relation to the foyer Landon and I were standing in. But then I heard a louder clanging and the sound of a gas stove being turned up, and I could tell it was coming from off to the right, through a stone archway that led to another part of the house.

“Violet?” I called, pushing past Landon and hurrying toward the noise.

“Aven,” Landon said behind me, warningly, but I ignored him. Now that we were here, I could disobey him as much as I wanted and there was nothing he could do about it.

And yet my belly clenched at his words, and a part of me wanted to obey him, the feeling so strong that I had to actively work against it. It made me realize, once again, that whatever was going on between me and Landon went way beyond him bringing me here to see my sister.

It was something deeper.

Something darker.

I’m not close to anyone.

His words burned against my brain, but I couldn’t think about any of that now, and so I pushed it all away and called my sister’s name again.

“Aven?” I heard her call back.

“Violet!” I walked through the archway, and now I was in the kitchen, a huge room with a set of three stairs that led to a sprawling and open great room, both rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out across the snow-capped mountains.

The kitchen was so big, the views so sweeping and disorienting, that at first, I didn’t see her.

There was a mess everywhere, another hallmark of Violet’s cooking.

Empty cans of tomatoes littered the marble counters, and the double basin drop sink was filled with dirty dishes. Bottles of spices were scattered across the counter next to the stove, all of their caps undone, grains of oregano and basil peppered across the marble.

Over the island, there was a hanger filled with shiny stainless steel pots, and it swung lazily, as if someone had just pulled something off it quickly.

A pot of spaghetti sauce simmered on the stove, but no glimpse of Violet.

“Violet?” I tried.

“Aven?” A cupboard slammed shut, pans clashed together, and then Violet popped up from the other side of the island. She was wearing a white chef’s hat, the kind that flopped over on the top and that no one wore outside of animated films.

Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She looked younger, her face scrubbed clean, her cheeks flushed with warmth from the kitchen and what appeared to be excitement.

She put down the pan she was holding, and rushed toward me, wrapping her arms around me. “Aven! I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Violet,” I said, and suddenly I was choked up. Whatever was going on, here she was, in front of me, safe. Not dead. Not hurt. Not anything but cooking. For a second I couldn’t speak, and the emotion I felt at her being here, in front of me, was overwhelming. I squeezed my eyes shut, my chest tight.

I held onto her, inhaling her scent, the peach face wash and the morning glory body spray she bought from CVS because she said it smelled better than anything high-end she could get at Sephora.

I pulled back and she smiled at me, revealing her perfect, braces-straightened smile.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her face shiny with tears.

And she did seem like she was happy to see me. Which didn’t make sense. If she was happy to see me, if she wanted me here, then why hadn’t she answered any of my calls, why hadn’t she texted me back except for the short little missives filled with emojis?

“Violet,” I started, and cleared my throat. “Why haven’t you – ”

But she was looking past me, over my shoulder.

“You must be Landon,” she said.

“Yes.” Landon nodded at her, his blue eyes blazing, his jaw set. He was in the archway, holding onto the sides of the frame as if blocking me (or Violet?) from leaving.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Violet said, giving him a genuine smile. She reached up and tightened her ponytail and then smoothed down her apron, as if she were worried about making a good impression on Landon. She seemed suddenly anxious, and she shifted her weight to her other foot.

I noticed her nails were bitten down to the quick, a nervous habit she’d picked up when she was younger, one she’d been able to kick due to a combination of willpower and special bad-tasting nail polish.

She’d had one slip-up, during finals last year, but obviously she’d slipped up again.

“Conner’s told me so much about you,” she said to Landon, giving him another smile.

I turned to look at Landon, who was still standing in the doorway, cutting an impressive figure. His eyes were dark and hooded, as if this was a charade he didn’t want to participate in but had been forced to.

“Where is Conner?” Landon glanced around the kitchen suspiciously.

“He ran out to get pasta,” Violet said, giving a little laugh. “All this sauce I made, and there was no pasta in the house. Well, not the kind of pasta Conner wanted. Apparently it has to be a certain brand, and a certain shape – spaghetti only, because Conner thinks if it’s not spaghetti then there’s no sense in eating it. But you probably know that, as his brother and everything.” Violet was babbling, and she wasn’t a babbler. Her eyes were flicking back and forth between me and Landon, but I knew her so well that I could pick up the nuance in her movements and in her tone.

She was nervous that I was here, yes.

But she was definitely more concerned with trying to impress Landon, or if not impress him exactly, forge a connection with him, get him to like her. Which did made sense on some level – if Violet was dating Conner, of course she would want his brother to like her. But this seemed beyond that.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts and focus. “Violet, why haven’t you texted me back?”

She turned to look at Landon. “You drove her here?”

He nodded, but stayed quiet.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Vi?” I never called Vi, not since we were little.

She sighed and scrubbed at her face.

“Listen,” she said. “I’m going to tell you everything. I want to tell you everything. But I just want to make sure – ”

She was cut off by the sound of an engine in the driveway. Violet’s eyes went wide. “Conner,” she said. She began hastily untying her apron. “I’m going to go help him with the groceries. Um, I’ll be right back.” She rushed by me, gripping my arm as she went, squeezing it gently, her eyes locking on mine, the expression there telegraphing one thing:

Please forgive me.

* * *

As soon as she was out of the kitchen, the sauce started bubbling and popping, and I walked to the stove and turned down the flame. The dial on the burner turned easily, the surface of the stove shiny and unmarked except for the tiny bits of sauce that had boiled out of the pan.

I picked up a nearby dishtowel and began wiping them up. I wasn’t a neat freak, not even close, but suddenly it became extremely important that I get every last speck off the stainless steel surface, that I leave no marks.

“Aven,” Landon said, his voice low.

“She’s going to burn the sauce,” I said.

“Aven.”

I turned to look at him, but the sight of him caught my breath in my chest. The look in his eyes left my breathless, a mix of possessiveness and assertiveness, his shoulders so broad they took up the whole doorway.

“I just don’t want the sauce to burn,” I said, and now I was acting like some kind of crazy person, and I wondered wildly if I should go and wet the towel so that I could get some more of the stubborn spots, or maybe a spray cleaner.

Landon came up behind me and took the dishtowel from my hand, turned me around and wrapped his arms around me.

“She’s not hurt,” I said, as if I were trying to convince myself.

“No.”

“You said she wouldn’t be.”

“Yes.”

I sunk into him, letting his arms envelope me as kissed my head.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to find out whatever it was Violet was about to tell me. I’d been so desperate to get here, so desperate to make sure she was okay, but now my stomach twisted with a sharp anxiety. It was like waiting for test results from your doctor – it was torture, and even though you knew the news might be bad, you just wanted to know. But now that the moment was here, now that I was faced with it, I was realizing there were some advantages to my ignorance.

“Listen,” Landon said, pulling back. He tilted his head so he was looking straight into my eyes. My stomach loosened under his gaze, and goose bumps prickled my skin. “Anytime you want to leave here, all you have to do is say it. And we will go.” He cupped my chin in his hand, the pad of his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, but why –”

I was stopped from asking the rest of my question, because at that moment, Conner Sheer walked into the kitchen.

The first thing I noticed was that he looked like Landon.

Which made no sense since the two of them had both been adopted from different families – they weren’t biologically related in any way.

But on second glance, I realized the resemblance wasn’t exactly physical.

It was in the way the Sheer brothers carried themselves, the same thrown back shoulders, the same lowered brow, the same defiant look in their eyes that made it clear they could care less what anyone thought or said about them.

But where Landon was dark, Conner was light, all blond hair and green eyes, his skin fair. Landon’s features were strong, as if they’d been slashed from stone, while Conner’s were softer, more pretty boy than bad boy.

“Landon,” Conner said by way of greeting to his brother. He was a holding a clear grocery bag filled with two boxes of spaghetti, and he tossed it onto the island. Violet stood behind him, her hand at her mouth, biting her nails.

“Conner,” Landon said. He took his arms from around my waist, and I saw Conner’s eyes land on our embrace, and I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a look of annoyance flash across his features.

“You didn’t have to drive all this way,” Conner said, as the two brothers patted each other on the back. His tone was jovial, but there was a weird tension in the air now. While Violet had seemed genuinely happy to see us, I got the distinct impression that Conner definitely wasn’t. “Didn’t you get my voicemail?”

His voicemail.

The one he’d left for Landon, the one that had played through the car speakers, the one I’d heard by mistake. The one that had instructed Landon to give Conner more time alone with Violet.

“Yes, I got it,” Landon said, not offering any further explanation for his presence.

There was an awkward silence, and then Conner Sheer turned his attention toward me. He smiled, then reached his hand out. I took it. His skin was cool, his hand smooth, so smooth that it almost felt slick, even though it wasn’t wet. It was the opposite of Landon’s hand, which was always warm and slightly rough.

“Conner Sheer,” he said. “You must be Aven.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.” The words came out of my mouth automatically, before I could decide whether or not they were true. “I’ve been really worried about Violet.” I thrust my chin in the air and refused to look away from him.

Conner’s eyes flickered with something – fear? No, not fear. It was something else. It was almost as if he considered me some kind of threat. But a threat to what? His relationship with Violet? He didn’t have to worry about that, obviously. Violet had made her choice. When it came down to it, she hadn’t answered any of my texts or calls.

“That’s ridiculous,” Violet piped in from behind Conner. “Why were you worried?”

“Are you serious?” I asked, incredulous. “Um, maybe because I didn’t know where you were and you weren’t texting me back.”

“I was texting you back,” Violet said defensively.

“A couple of emojis and an ‘I’m okay’?” I rolled my eyes.

Violet’s gaze flicked to Conner, as if she were looking to him to help her with what to say. But Conner’s eyes were still on me, his expression cool and aloof.

“But I’m on school break,” Violet tried. “There’s nothing for me to do until next semester. You should have known I was okay, that I just needed some time to relax and get away.”

“Violet needs her rest,” Conner said, and he pulled Violet toward him and kissed her on the top of the head.

I shook my head in disbelief. “This is ridiculous,” I said. “Am I in the Twilight Zone here? Someone needs to tell me what’s going on, and they need to do it now.”

“After dinner we can all sit down and – ” Violet started, but I was over this bullshit.

“No, not after dinner. Now.”

She opened her mouth to protest again, but before she could, I stopped her. “No,” I said. “Now, or I’m calling the police.”

I turned and glanced at Landon, who was standing behind me, his strong hands resting on my shoulders. He’d been quiet, but his presence was a source comfort, giving me the feeling that no matter what, as long as he was here with me, I was safe. He didn’t try to stop me when I threatened to call the police, even though Conner looked at him expectantly, as if telling Landon to get me in check.

“Okay, okay,” Conner finally said, holding up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender when he saw Landon wasn’t going to be of help. “Everyone just relax before this turns into something it doesn’t need to. Of course I can sit down and talk now if that’s what you prefer, Aven.”

“Great!” I said, sounding like a smartass and not giving a crap.

“Conner,” my sister said, nervous. Her hand went back to her mouth and she chewed on her thumbnail.

“It’s fine, Violet,” Conner said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “I’ll get some wine from the basement. Help me pick some out?”

She nodded, biting her lip, and then followed him through the archway.

“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded of Landon. “Why are they acting like everything is fine, like I’m the one who’s being crazy?”

He sighed and closed his eyes, scrubbed at this face with his hand. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and serious.

“I’m listening.”

“Whatever she’s about to tell you, I want you to know that nothing has to –”

A beeping noise echoed through the kitchen followed immediately by a robotic woman’s voice. “Bulkhead door open,” it said. “Zone eight compromised. Please enter code to accept.”

Landon reached behind me and punched a code into a keypad mounted on the wall, and the voice chirped, “Thank you. Alarm cancelled.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded.

“It means they left,” Landon said.

“What?”

“It means they left through the bulkhead,” Landon said, obviously not getting that my “what?” had been rhetorical.

I raced toward the window, and looked outside, just in time to see Conner Sheer’s car pulling out of the driveway and starting down the dirt road. The last thing I saw before they turned the corner was a glimpse of the back of Violet’s head, her ponytail bobbing as the car went over a bump and then disappeared from view.

* * *

“That’s it,” I said immediately. “I’m calling the police.”

I pulled my phone out, expecting Landon to try to stop me, the way he’d done in the past, but instead he just stood there, watching, his face impassive.

But my phone was dead.

NO SERVICE flashed across the screen. I stepped down into the massive great room that was off the kitchen, weaving around the square stone tables and sleek cream couches, willing my phone to pick up a signal.

“Where is there service in this house?” I demanded.

“Nowhere.”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the most famous tech moguls in the world, and you expect me to believe you own a house where there’s no cell service?” I was waving my phone around now like a crazy person in a cell phone commercial.

“There is cell service,” Landon said, his voice low. “But not on your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone has been disconnected.”

“Why?”

“For your safety.”

And then I remembered. The call from that woman, Misty. The reporter who was doing the story on the stalking. I remembered Landon taking my phone from my hand, telling me he would get me another one. He must have disconnected it, then slipped it back into my purse.

I was angry, and my hand tightened around my phone. I resisted the urge to throw it across the room.

“Landon,” I said, and the word came out like a sob. “Let me use your phone.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. I need to keep you safe.”

“You think this is safe?” I demanded. “Making me stand here in the kitchen like I’m some kind of helpless puppy while my sister takes off, going God knows where? If Violet isn’t safe, then I’m not safe.”

“Violet and Conner will be back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” He crossed the room to the sauce on the stove, which had started to bubble and smoke, and turned off the burner.

“Tell me,” I said, setting my phone down, my hands curling into fists by my side.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what they’re doing here. Why they ran away, why Violet hasn’t returned my calls. I know that you know.”

“Aven.”

“Stop saying my name like that!” I was pacing around now, my fists so tight that my nails bit into my skin. I was so fucking sick of this. Sick of Landon having all the power, sick of my sister keeping things from me, just sick of all of it.

I wasn’t some delicate flower that needed to be protected from whatever it was that was going on.

Landon knew.

Conner knew.

Violet knew.

I was the only one who didn’t know.

I needed answers.

I deserved answers.

And if Violet wasn’t here to give them to me, I was going to get them from Landon.

“You need to sit down, Aven” Landon said, and I hated how calm he was, how steely his voice sounded. He stepped down from the kitchen back into the cavernous great room where I was standing, and pulled a cream-colored cashmere blanket off the back of the couch. He held it up, as if he were going to cover me with it. “Sit down. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t want some tea! I want to know what’s going on!” I rushed at him then, trying to rip the blanket from his hands, trying to do something, anything, to get a reaction out of him.

“Goddammit, Aven,” he growled. “You will do as I say.” He pulled back on the blanket.

We were caught in a tug of war, but he was too strong, and just when he was about to cede the impromptu game to me, the first thing he would have ever ceded to me, he dropped the blanket.

I was still tugging and I stumbled backwards, but he grabbed my wrists to keep me from falling, holding them so tight that I cried out.

“You want to know why she left with him?” he demanded. “You want to know?”

“Yes!”

His eyes blazed and for a moment I thought he was going to just blurt it out, but then he sighed and dropped my wrists, walked over to the kitchen table. He picked up one of the chairs and slammed it onto the floor, and the patterned glass vase that sat on top shook and threatened to topple over.

He took in a deep breath, and I took a step toward him.

“No,” he commanded. “Stay right there. If you come any closer, I’m going to want to punish you. And if I punish you, it’s going to be out of anger right now. And I do not want to do that.”

My body thrummed and pulsed at his words, and my core clenched. The places on my body where he’d spanked me, belted me, tied me, always aching in the background, intensified for a moment, and the desire I felt for him slid through me, warm and strong.

Suddenly, I was desperate for him to take this ache away from me, to take away the uncomfortableness and confusion I felt at what was going on with my sister.

I wanted him to take my body, to use me, to punish me, to take over and dominate me so that all I needed to think about were his demands.

The idea was unsettling.

He’s an addiction, I thought. I am addicted to Landon Sheer, the same way someone would be addicted to a drug.

I clenched my fists even tighter and railed against my baser instincts, the ones that urged me to fall to my knees. Of course, the fact that I didn’t do it wasn’t a victory, at least not for my self-control – because if he’d told me to do it, I would have.

“Landon,” I said, and I watched as he raised his head, stared out the window.

“Look at me.”

He turned, and my heart clenched. In his blue eyes, I saw torment, and not the kind I usually saw, the kind that looked like the leftover damage and destruction of a storm that had already raged.

No, this storm was going on right now, the ravaged look on his face confirming that the pain he was feeling was alive right in this moment.

He drew himself to his full height, and I already knew what he was going to do. He was going to insist I get back in the car, was going to drive me away from here and back to New York without telling me anything.

“You can’t protect me from this,” I said, summoning all my self-control. “Please, I …” My mouth went dry and I stepped up into the kitchen. “Tell me.”

And then his eyes hooded, and his jaw clenched into a strong line. He looked right at me, and when he spoke, his voice was cold.

“Your sister and my brother?” he said. “They’re related.”

* * *

The room felt like it was spinning.

My head went woozy, my knees went weak, and at the moment Landon stopped speaking the sun slid out from behind a cloud, its rays glinting off the snow-covered mountains outside.

It blinded me for a moment, illuminating the room, and I stepped backwards.

“Aven,” Landon rushed toward me, grabbing me before I fell down the stair that led back to the great room.

“What are you talking about?” I said, trying to pull away from him. “What are you talking about?”

“Just what I said.” He’d let me wrench out of his grasp, and now he took a step back from me. I could almost feel the desire radiating off of him -- I knew he was struggling between wanting to protect me and wanting to punish me for making him tell me, and for the way he was feeling toward me.

But his tone was even, devoid of emotion, as if he were a doctor delivering the kind of bad news that he’d delivered a million times before.

“That’s impossible,” I said, but then I heard myself asking, “How?” a second later.

“It’s not definite,” Landon said.

“I didn’t ask if it was definite. I asked how?” I’d been looking down at the floor and now I glanced up sharply. Blood rushed to my head -- I felt like I was floating, or, worse, like I was about to have a panic attack. I fought against the sensation, trying to keep myself from losing my grip on reality.

“Your dad,” Landon said. “We have reason to believe he got Conner’s biological mother pregnant. She put the baby up for adoption, and we’re not sure, but we think that baby is Conner.”

“You knew,” I breathed.

Landon stayed silent for a moment. Then finally, “I didn’t know for sure. We still don’t.”

“You suspected.” Which was basically the same thing. The periphery of my vision began to go fuzzy. And then another thought, one that made my stomach turn. “You and I, we’re not –”

“No. It was Conner only.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Okay,” I said, running my hands through my hair and taking a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay.” I started walking back toward the front door of the house, through the stone archway and into the foyer.

“Where are you going?” Landon asked, following me. “Aven.”

“I’m leaving. I need to find Violet.”

Landon sighed. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” I pulled my sister’s coat off the hook by the door and shoved my arms into it. “No. I have to go find them.”

“Aven. Take the coat off.”

“They can’t have gotten far,” I said. “You know the area. You know where they might have gone. Another cabin, or a coffee shop, or a store, or something. You can take me there.”

“Aven.” Landon’s voice finally softened.

“Fine,” I said, anger bubbling in my veins, hot and bitter, even as I heard myself becoming hysterical, the pitch in my tone going up. “Fine, if you won’t help me, then I’ll go myself.”

Landon’s arm shot out, and he placed his palm flat on the door, holding it closed.

It was nothing but a gesture of dominance.

If he’d wanted to, he could have just used his fancy alarm system to make sure I couldn’t get out.

“Landon,” I said, but when I turned around, and he pushed me up against the back of the door.

And then he was sealing his mouth to mine, kissing me, his tongue pushing against my lips, parting them without my permission.

“Landon,” I moaned, but he kept kissing me. “Landon, please, I can’t…”

“Shh,” he said, kissing me again. “Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

My resolve weakened, my grip on it slipping –fighting him was like trying to hold onto water. As much as you tried, it was impossible.

“Shh,” he said again, and the stubble on his chin brushed against the soft skin on my neck, over my throat, the heat from his touch blazing through my entire body.

I felt like my skin was too tight, and the only thing that could loosen me out of it was him, stroking me, touching me, taking me.

“I can make you forget.” His voice came from low in his throat, and he pushed a strand of hair back from my face. His eyes raked over me hungrily, and his statement, even though it wasn’t a question, was as close to asking permission as he got.

It was like I was balanced on a precipice. I could go after my sister, tell her this was crazy, to stop this charade, to come home to New York with me.

Or I could give myself to this man, and forget.

His lips grazed my neck, my collarbone, his hand slipping under the back of my shirt to the small of my back.

I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, buried my face in his chest.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Please, Landon, make me forget.”

* * *

He took my hand, leading up me up one of the winding staircases that rose out of the foyer, taking me up, up, up until we reached a landing on the second floor that was part of an open balcony.

We kept going, down a long hallway, past a row of closed stone doors, until we reached a final door at the very end of the hallway. It was made of weathered gray wood, and it was curved on the top, the frame made from the same stones that composed the archway downstairs.

Landon pulled a key fob out of his pocket and waved it in front of a keypad. The keypad glowed green. Landon entered a six-digit code, then opened the door and pulled me through.

We were in a walkway now, high off the ground and made of glass all around, including the floor. It must have wound around the back of the house, because through the glass the mountains sparkled in the background, snow-capped and high. I took a step toward Landon, and almost tripped.

The sensation of being on a glass walkway with nothing under me made it feel as if I were stepping off a ledge.

“Landon,” I grabbed for his arm, and he steadied me.

“Okay?” he asked gruffly.

I nodded, and we stood there for a beat, waiting for my vertigo to dissipate. Then his hand was on mine, and he was pulling me back down the walkway. The snow swirled around us, and since we were so high off the ground, it gave the disconcerting feeling that we were part of the storm.

At the end of the walkway was a stone turret -- a large curved structure that rose out of the ground, magnificently set against the snowy mountains behind it.

The glass walkway seemed to be the only way to access it. At the end of the walkway was another curved wooden door, the arch around it made of gray and white mosaic.

Landon reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, slid it into the door, and opened it. He pulled me into a small stone foyer, and shut the door behind us. A staircase rose up in front of us, curving toward the sky, going on seemingly forever.

Landon squeezed my hand.

“I am going to take you upstairs now,” he said, his voice heavy with meaning.

“Why are you saying it like that?” I asked, glancing toward the stairs nervously. “What’s up there?”

His lips parted slightly, and his shoulders pulled back, his breathing slightly increased. I could see the desire in his eyes, along with something else, something dark and hungry.

“What is it?” I demanded.

“You know your safe word?”

I nodded.

My heart thrummed against my ribcage, the reverberations giving the sensation of a million hummingbirds flying around inside of me, their wings beating against the inside of my skin.

We started up the winding stone staircase.

When we got to the top, there was another stone door, identical to the one downstairs.

He slid the key into the lock, took my hand, and pulled me inside.

* * *

It’s a torture room.

It was the first thought that entered my mind, and the force of it was so strong and terrifying that it wiped out any thoughts of the bombshell Landon had just dropped on me about Violet and Conner.

The room we were in had a stone floor, stone walls, and no windows. It was curved into the shape of a circle.

A platform bed sat smack dab in the middle. It was made up with a black comforter, metal shackles attached neatly on the bottom, cuffs at the top. On the walls hung all kinds of belts and whips, chains and spikes, handcuffs and other instruments I couldn’t identify.

Besides the bed, the only other pieces of furniture were things I didn’t recognize, but I could surmise what they were for – a padded bench that seemed to be used for spanking, a cage in the corner, a metal contraption that looked as if it was supposed to spread your legs in some way.

I turned around, not sure if I was going to make my way back through the door or not, but Landon was there, his eyes on mine.

He was watching me carefully.

“What is this?” I asked, even though I knew.

“This is where I want to punish you.” As he spoke, he drew me toward him, and I could feel his erection through his pants, hard and hot against my belly, even through the leggings I was wearing.

My pussy, ever the traitor, flooded with a moist warmth.

I swallowed and pressed my palms flat against his chest.

He took my wrists in his hands, applying gentle pressure, and I could feel my pulse beating against his touch.

Then he pulled away and began to walk toward the side of the room.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I raised my head toward the ceiling. I gasped. It was domed, made of glass, and across it was etched a replica of the mountains outside, each one dusted with a glittery substance that made it look like snow. The real snow swirled around the glass above us, making the etched mountains look life-like.

Landon hit a button on the side of the room, and the dome began to close as if we were in a stadium, two black panels coming out from either side and moving together. When they converged, the room was bathed in blackness for a second, and then the lights went on, dim and almost romantic.

Landon was still watching me from the other side of the room. I could tell he was waiting for my reaction. Of course I’d known he was into control, into BDSM even, rules and punishments. But this was another level. This was torture and instruments, pain and pleasure co-existing in a way that was foreign to me.

I had a choice.

I always had a choice. I didn’t have to stay here. I wasn’t a prisoner.

The overhead light glinted off one of the belts that hung along the wall, and it reminded me of that moment back in the kitchen, when the sun had glinted off the mountains.

That same feeling of dizziness washed over me, that same feeling of panic.

Here I was, with a man I hardly knew, a man I felt a connection to that I couldn’t explain.

And I’d found my sister, who apparently might be having an affair with a man who could be her brother.

I took a deep breath.

Then I got to my knees.

“Sir,” I said, my eyes on the floor. “Punish me.”

* * *

Landon dimmed the lights even further.

Then he crossed the room to me. I kept my eyes on the floor, wanting him to know that I was submitting to him, that I was here to do whatever he said, no matter what it was.

He reached down and tipped my chin up.

His thumb slid over my bottom lip, and he slipped it into my mouth just a tiny bit, and I sucked on it hungrily.

“You want something in your mouth to suck, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, sir. I would like your cock in my mouth, if that would please you.”

His eyes lit with desire at my words, and I loved the look on his face, the look of approval. I craved it, needed it.

He took a step back, crossed the room and chose a whip from a hook that was drilled into the stone wall.

He held it in one hand and slid the end of it across his palm, as if he were testing its weight, checking to see how much damage it could do.

He looked over at me, kneeling there on the floor. Our eyes met and electricity filled the air, anticipation mixing with adrenaline and pulsing through my veins in a heady mix.

Landon returned the whip to its hook and chose another. I wondered if the new whip would hurt me more or less.

More, I decided, watching as Landon reached behind him, pulling his shirt off in one fluid moment. His magnificent body came into view, the dim lighting in the room doing nothing to diminish how absolutely beautiful he was.

In fact, the light shining down on him made him look as if he’d been airbrushed to life, the shadows highlighting the ridges of his abs, the cords of muscle in his forearms, the expanse of his chest.

An involuntary groan escaped my lips.

He was just so beautiful. Beautiful and broken. And as much as I craved him taking me and dominating me, I also wanted to take away whatever pain was inside of him, whatever pain that made him feel as if he had to keep everyone at arm’s length.

He walked to me, pulled me up from my knees and pressed his body to mine, his hands sliding up the back of my neck and tangling in my hair.

“Aven,” he whispered. “God, Aven.” His voice was rough with emotion, and I closed my eyes and whispered his name back to him, our lips right against each other, barely touching.

“I can’t explain what you’re doing to me,” he said, his hands still in my hair. He closed his eyes, and took in a deep shuddering breath. “I’m falling…” He trailed off, his eyes going hard as he shut his emotions down, the emotions that were threatening to overcome him, to break down his carefully constructed world.

I savored this brief moment of softness, knowing that after this, there would be no more. I craved the closeness, craved the emotions, and I also craved the punishments and the darkness.

And then his mouth crashed into mine, his hands clawing at my hair, his tongue pressing past the seam of my lips.

The force of his kiss was both physical and spiritual, the connection between us so visceral and alive that I swore I could hear it crackle, could see it spark.

He pushed me up against the wall, my back against the stone, as he owned me with the kiss.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said when he pulled back. “But in this room, I’m going to.”

I felt the words wash over me, the anticipation of them making me want him even more.

“I want you to,” I said.

His hands went to the sides of my shirt, and he pulled it up over my head. His mouth returned to the crook of my throat, and he kissed, moving down softly over my cleavage, his breath sending prickles of heat over me.

He licked a searing trail of desire down over my abdomen, stopping to nip at my rib cage.

He pulled at my pants slowly, gathering the material in his hands, tugging it down over my hips.

“So perfect,” he breathed. “Your body is so perfect.”

I stepped out of my pants and then he was on his knees in front of me. He pushed the soft material of my thong over to the side, and I gasped as he blew right on my pussy.

“So tight.” His finger breached my hole, probing me.

I groaned and relaxed, like he’d taught me, letting his finger into my pussy, hungry for him.

“Good girl,” he breathed, curving his finger around inside of me and rubbing my walls. “Your pussy is so beautiful,” he said. His other hand reached up and forked it, my clit popping from its hood. “Look at your clit.” He leaned down and kissed it softly.

I moaned and closed my eyes.

“Do you like that?” Landon asked, sounding amused.

“Yes,” I whimpered, even though of course he already knew the answer.

He took my leg and hooked it over his shoulder so he could get a better angle on me, then took my other leg and hooked it over his other shoulder. He was made of stone, so sturdy, his musculature strong and capable of holding me up with seemingly no effort.

He made me feel physically small like no other man ever had, and the strength of his body holding me up, anchoring me to the wall, was a turn on in and of itself.

His hands pinned me by my hips to the stone behind me, his mouth right in front of my pussy.

“Your cunt looks so good, angel.”

I moaned and tried to writhe, but he was too strong. He looked up at me, his blue eyes bright, and the sight of him made butterflies swarm my stomach and my chest clench.

“I’m going to get you nice and wet,” he said, and he moved closer to my pussy, his stubble brushing against my thighs. “I need to get you turned on, because I’m going to do things to you that are going to hurt, baby. They’re going to hurt, and when I get going, I’m not going to be able to control myself, so now…” He trailed off and gazed up at my again, and I swallowed. “Now I need to turn you on so that it won’t hurt as much.”

I whimpered as he lowered his mouth to my pussy, his tongue and lips working me over expertly, slowly at first, feather soft movements that left me hot and breathless. He kissed and sucked my clit, sliding the flat of his tongue over me in one soft movement, then swirling it around my clit.

He pushed me to the edge of climax then pulled me back, like I was a boat out at sea, riding the waves. He did it over and over again, so many times that I lost count.

“You taste so good,” the groaned as he ate me, and the words were a guttural sound in his throat, the vibration of his deep tone reverberating through my pussy, intensifying the sensation of his mouth on me.

“Landon,” I cried, and my hands were on the broadness of his shoulders, my fingers digging into his muscles as he worked me over with his tongue. My nails raked over his skin, leaving marks the way he’d left on me.

When he finally finished, letting me go, my legs felt like jelly and my head was light.

“Please,” I panted.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“You’re ready to be fucked, baby?” His eyes glinted, not with mischief, but with something else, something dark and deep that I’d only seen glimpses of before. He was through teasing.

I reached for his hand, placed it on my pussy, making sure my thong was still pulled to the side so he could feel how wet I was. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, my pussy is ready. My cunt is wet, it needs your cock.” It was surprising how fast my vocabulary had changed, how words that had seemed so dirty and foreign to me just a few days ago now sprung from my lips with little effort, how I used those words to beg.

“Your pussy is ready, isn’t it, good girl?” Landon’s finger probed my folds, sliding his finger in easily, my pussy primed from the way he’d sucked and eaten me, the open-mouthed kisses he’d placed between my legs. Even so, I knew his cock would stretch me, and I craved it, craved that feeling of stretching before it gave way to warm pleasure.

“Yes.”

He grinned then, and that same thing glowed in his eyes, something deep and dark, something almost alive. He smiled.

“But that’s not where I’m going to fuck you, baby.”

And then he took my hand and led me to one of the contraptions that sat in his torture room.

* * *

It was metal, with two padded sections.

The first one was square, just big enough to kneel on.

The second was a round bar, covered in red leather.

“You’ll kneel on this,” Landon told me as he finished undressing me, unhooking my bra, taking my breasts in his hands and hefting their weight. His hands were huge, big enough to encapsulate both of my breasts, even though I was a D cup. His thumbs rubbed my nipples, sending shockwaves of heady pleasure through me.

“Then you’ll lay over this,” he said, indicating the rolled bar, “and hold onto the handles.” His hands tugged at the sides of my panties, his grip so hard that I was sure he would tear them as he pulled them off.

His movements were hungry now, more dominant, rougher and more insistent.

“Don’t move,” he instructed. He crossed the room and picked up the whip he’d been holding earlier and something else, something that looked like a rubber ball with two strips of leather attached to it.

He returned to me.

“I’m going to gag you,” he said.

“Landon –“

He cut me off, placing the ball in my mouth. Instantly, the taste of rubber filled my mouth, and it was impossible to talk. All I could do was make a pleading sound, one that came from deep in my throat, my eyes wide.

“Shh,” he said as he finished hooking the buckle behind my head. “No protests.” He slid the whip over my stomach. “If you need to safe word, shake your head and I will stop.”

As if the thought of stopping was too much for him, he pulled back the whip and slashed it against my stomach.

I whimpered at the pain, even as my cunt flooded with desire.

“I’m going to fuck your ass now, baby,” Landon said, shucking his pants and boxers. He took my hand and placed it on his cock. “I’m going to take your last virginity, and then you’ll be mine.” His voice caught on the last part, and his eyes hooded.

I felt the girth of him in my hand, his thickness and length making my hand feel small and tiny in comparison. I wondered how I was going to take him in my ass, and my eyes filled with tears.

Landon noticed, smiling that mischievous, evil smile of his.

“You’re sexy when you cry.”And then he grabbed my hips, swung me around, and pushed me down onto the metal contraption.

My ass was immediately thrust into the air.

“Jesus, you are sexy,” Landon breathed, and then I felt the whip lash against my backside.

I whimpered and bit down onto the rubber ball in my mouth as fresh tears filled my eyes.

His hands were on my ass now, spreading my cheeks. My legs involuntarily clenched, and I reached behind me to grab his wrists, to stop him, to make him go slower.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered. “Don’t be like that. You don’t want me to have to cuff your hands down, do you?”

I closed my eyes and let go of his wrists, wondering how something so painful could cause such want and desire.

His hands still cupped my ass cheeks – he must have put the whip down. But any relief I felt at absence of the whip was short-lived. Landon’s strong hands spread my cheeks further and his thumbs dipped between my legs, running over the slit of my pussy.

“Your cunt is dripping wet. Your body will never lie to me, Aven. You want this just as much as I do.”

I whimpered, the tears now spilling over my eyes and down my cheeks. His thumbs moved my own arousal over my asshole, the puckered rose becoming wet as he slipped the pad of his thumb inside.

I groaned.

“Don’t worry, angel, you’ll like it,” he said.

Salty tears dripped down my cheeks and under the rubber ball he had in my mouth. I tasted them and my face burned with shame.

He pulled me back toward him, so that my upper body was flush against his chest.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, kissing my cheeks. “It only turns me on more.”I moaned.

I could feel his cock behind me, pressing into my ass, right against my hole, and panic seized my throat. I reached behind me, grabbing for his hips, but he grabbed my wrists and twisted so hard it hurt.

“No,” he said, sighing. “You shouldn’t have done that, baby. Now I’m going to have to cuff you in.” He pushed me back down, forcing my wrists into the cuffs that emerged from the padded armrests. A second later, my ankles were cuffed to the bench, making it impossible to move.

“God, you look so fucking hot like that, Aven.” His thumb pushed into my ass, and then he picked up the whip, lashing me.

I gasped, crying out at the pain, which then gave way to that same warm pleasure. It spread through me slowly, like a small tremor radiating out from its epicenter.

Landon whipped me again, and his thumb pressed further into my ass, spreading me.

“Just relax,” he said. “It will be easier if you let yourself go.”

I tried to do as he said, to relax, to override my body’s instinct to resist him, even as everything inside of me screamed to submit.

He pushed into me again, and whipped me, and then he fell into a rhythm.

A lash with the whip, and then his thumb pressing into me further.

I moaned around the ball gag, wanting to beg him to stop, and at the same time wanting him to go faster and harder.

He pushed into me further, and then pulled his finger out, testing my pussy again, feeling how wet I was.

“Good girl,” he whispered, spreading more of my juices over my ass.

I knew his dick was next, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight and tried not to think about the visual of it, his hard, thick shaft pushing into me

He leaned his body over mine, that familiar heaviness covering me, the weight of him strong and comforting.

His tongue slid down my spine, leaving a searing hot trail, and I moaned.

And then his face was up by mine.

“I wish you could see your ass, angel,” he murmured into my ear. “It’s all read from the whip all ready for me to fuck you, to take your last virginity.”

My breath caught in my chest, even as my pussy pulsed.

Landon reached behind me and began to undo the ball gag. “You look so sexy gagged, angel,” he said, his voice gruff and dark. “But I want to hear you. I want to hear the whimpers, the moans of pain and pleasure as I fuck your ass.”

The gag popped out of my mouth and I gasped for air.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head back, hard, pressing his mouth to mine, sealing it with a kiss.

We moaned into each other’s mouths as we kissed, open-mouthed, our tongues hungry and probing, his stubble rubbing against my chin. The whole time the head of his throbbing cock was against my asshole, and not knowing when he was going to push into me was making me breathless.

Finally, he ended the kiss, pushing me back down onto the bench. My hands tightened into fists, the cuffs that bound me scraping into my skin.

“Slow or fast,” he murmured to himself.

“Landon,” I begged. “Please, be gentle with me.”

“I am not a gentle man,” he said, but his cock pressed against my ass and then he slid in just the tiniest bit. “If you think that, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment, baby.”

The tip of his cock was in my ass now, spreading me.

My breath caught and I whimpered.

“That’s it, angel, good girl, get used to it.”

He spread my cheeks with his hands. “Look at that, your ass taking my cock. It’s so snug, baby.” He pressed a little further in, and I cried out.

“Landon!”

The sensation was like nothing I’d ever felt before – tight and pinching and hot. My pussy was soaked, my body confused as to what it wanted.

He pushed in a tiny bit more, and hot tears slid down my face at the intrusion.

It was so violating, and yet so intimate at the same time. It was humiliating and emotional, shameful and intoxicating.

“Relax, angel,” he said. “Your ass is so tight, and your pussy is so wet.”His finger slid into my pussy, and he began to massage my insides, his finger curving so that his knuckle rubbed against my clit. The sensation was incredible, and the warmth radiating from his touch reached my ass, making his cock feel good inside of me.

I tried to push back, trying to take him further.

“You want that?” he asked, his open hand slapping my ass so hard it jiggled.

“Yes,” I moaned.

“Beg.”

“Fuck my ass,” I said.

Another hard, open-handed slap against my butt.

“Fuck my ass, Landon,” I said. “Please. Make me yours.”

There was a pause, a moment where everything stilled, and then his finger pulled out of my pussy and his hands grabbed my hips and then he pushed into me, taking my last virginity, the sensation painful and exhilarating and blissful all at once.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, and he began to move in and out, fucking my ass, fucking me in my most private place.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned as his hips bucked. “You’re so tight, angel, I’m not going to be able to last long.”

“I want you to come all over me,” I whispered. “I want you to blow it all over me, to pull out and cover me in it.”

I loved the thought of being covered in his cum, loved watching it shoot out of his dick and onto my skin. It made me feel marked, branded, owned.

He pushed my hips down, pinning them against the leather-covered bar he had me bent over, and his hands spread my ass further, his thumbs between my legs, spreading my pussy.

With every pump of his cock, my exposed clit brushed against the leather underneath me, sending pleasure waves through me, and I realized this was his intention. Knowing his control and his dominance was taking over, just made the sensation that much more insane.

He held me down, fucking my ass.

“Sir?” I panted.

“Yes.” The word came from deep inside of him, a guttural sound that showed just how much he was about to lose his self-control.

“I want to come,” I pleaded.

“Come, baby,” he coaxed. “Come with my dick buried right in that tight little ass.”

His words, as they had before, pushed me over the edge, and my pussy and ass clenched, my orgasm seemingly coming from deep inside of me, some part of me that hadn’t been touched before.

It was almost as if this act, him having me cuffed and bent over while he took my ass, was even more intimate than when he’d taken my virginity.

He grabbed my chin as I climaxed, turning my face so I was looking at him.

“Watch me come on you,” he whispered, and then he thrust into my ass, hard, once, twice, three times, and I realized he had been holding back, that as much as he’d talked about wanting to hurt me and see me cry, some part of him had resisted that, because now I felt the full force of him, and I cried out as he pulled out and came on my ass, streams of ejaculate that covered my skin in a warm stickiness. At the same time, my own orgasm crested,

I loved watching him come on me, loved knowing that I’d caused that, that he was marking me, making me his.

When he was spent, he took a moment, letting us both catch our breath. Then he reached down and undid the cuffs on my wrists and the ones around my feet, then turned me around and gathered me in his arms.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his face serious and worried. He cupped my chin, his eyes dark and stormy, his jaw set in an unyielding line.

I shook my head. “No. Not too bad.”

“Aven,” he whispered. “God, Aven.”

He scooped me up and carried me across the room, through a door in the back of the turret, where a bedroom waited.

He whisked me through to another door, into a massive bathroom decorated in tones of gold and ice blue, and he pulled me into the glass-enclosed shower, washing me gently as the steam rose and swirled around us. His hands moved over my skin, taking care to go slow over my raw flesh.

When he was done, he wrapped me in a fluffy white towel, carried me to the bedroom and laid me down on the bed on my stomach. I watched as he crossed the room to a chest of drawers in the corner, pulled out a pair of boxers and a pair of loose navy blue silk pajama pants.

He reached into the nightstand and pulled out a container of skin balm, sat down on the bed next to me, and began to rub it onto my ass.

I winced.

“Shh,” he said. “It might sting now, but it will be better in the long run. Trust me.”

I bit my lip, and after a few moments, started to enjoy the sensation.

I closed my eyes, and just as I was starting to relax, it all came rushing back.

Violet.

Conner.

The reason we were here.

“How?” I asked softly, closing my eyes. I expected pushback, but after a second of silence, Landon answered my question, without having to ask for clarification.

“When Conner told me about Violet, that they may be getting serious, we looked into her background.”

“Who’s we?”

“Conner and I, and … some associates.”

I turned my face to the side, away from him, and bit the inside of my cheek. Some associates. I pictured a room of men in black suits and sunglasses, all of them holding file folders, pushing them across a table toward Landon and Conner, the pages inside filled with information about my sister.

“How do you know it’s true?” I licked my lips. “That they’re related?”

“We don’t know. Not for sure. All we know is that your father had a relationship with the woman who gave up Conner for adoption, right around the time that Conner was born. We’re waiting for the final DNA results.”

I gripped the comforter, trying to control my breathing. “Did he know? My father?”

“No. Conner’s biological mother made sure he never knew, that the adoption records were sealed.” Landon’s hands moved over me gently, his touch trying to soothe me, even as his words cut through my heart.

I gathered the covers around me and sat up in bed.

“You need to tell me about the stalking.”

“The stalking?”

“Yes. It’s obvious it was Conner you were taking the blame for. I need to know exactly what he did.”

Landon looked at me, his eyes blazing. “Conner isn’t dangerous.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, scrubbed at his face with his hand, then shrugged. “Conner met a girl when he was eighteen. They were together for a while. Her parents didn’t like him, and they told her as much. She sided with her parents. Conner thought if he could convince her he loved her, she’d turn her back on her parents. It didn’t work, and her parents filed a restraining order.”

“And you took the blame?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The reasons aren’t important.”

My hands curled into fists around the comforter, and I twisted the material, hard. “Stop protecting him.”

He looked at me. “What?”

“Conner! You’re protecting him.” Suddenly, everything swam back into focus. My sister was out there, with a man I knew nothing about, a man who had some kind of stalking record, a man who she could be related to.

And here I was, acting insane, letting Landon tie me up.

I scrambled out of bed and started back toward the torture room to get my clothes.

“Where are you going?” Landon asked. He stood up from the bed, gathering himself to his impressive height, his 6’3” frame looming large in the room.

“To find Violet,” I said, and my voice dripped with anger.

“You already found her.”

“Yes, but now she’s gone again. I need to find her. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Aven – “

“Never mind,” I said. I was in the room now, and I picked up my pants, shoving my legs into them and pulling my shirt over my head. “I don’t need your help.”

Landon stepped in front of me as I tried to push past him and get out of the room. “Get out of my way,” I said. “If you don’t want to help me, whatever, but – ”

“Calm down.” His tone was stern, like I was some kind of child who was overreacting about not getting an ice cream.

“Relax? Relax? My sister has taken off with someone I know nothing about, someone she could be related to, someone who could be dangerous, and you’re telling me to relax?” I shook my head. “I won’t relax.”

“Conner isn’t dangerous.”

“Stop protecting him!”

“Stop protecting Violet.”

“I’m not protecting Violet.”

“Yes, you are.” His eyes blazed. “Do you understand that Violet left of her own free will? She was here, Aven, alone, with her phone. She could have told you at any time what was going on with her, she could have told you the truth.”

“No.” I shook my head. “She was afraid.”

“She wasn’t afraid,” Landon said. “She was here, by herself, cooking dinner. You saw what it was like when we walked in. She knew you were here, and she left with him. Of her own accord, of her own free will. She wanted to be with Conner, she wanted to go with him.”

“Stop!” I said. “Just stop.” My thoughts were swirling in my head, and I pushed by him to the door.

But Landon was bigger than me, stronger, and he reached out and took my wrists, stopping me.

My heart was pounding in my chest, the blood rushing through me like a swirling tornado, the sound making a rhythmic whoosh that echoed in my ears.

“No,” he said, and now his eyes searched mine. “Violet wants to be here, Aven. So why are you so determined to try to stop her?”

My eyes closed.

My blood rushed.

My stomach churned.

And before I could stop myself, I was saying it out loud.

The one thing that I’d never been able to bring myself to say before.

“Because,” I said, and I looked Landon right in the eye. “I’m the reason Violet has no parents.”

“What?” he frowned, his grip loosening, confusion passing over his perfect features.

“That’s right,” I said, savoring it. “I killed them.”