I lay there for a long time drifting in that peaceful space again. That space I could only ever experience after sex with Adrian. Especially after the kind of sex we had just had. I started to notice the more intense the sex and the more intense my orgasms, the longer I stayed in this blissful state and the farther away I seemed to go.

That's what Adrian said anyway. In the beginning, before he got used to the way my body would react to the intensity of our love-making, he would always ask me where did you go? after my eyes would finally open and I would look up at him like no time had passed at all. It was as if he knew my body was a shell or a façade, and the real me, the me inside my head, had sneaked off while he wasn't looking.

I could feel something was different this time even as I drifted, though. Adrian seemed to be holding me tighter than usual. No matter how far away my mind traveled during this recovery state I would experience, I could always feel his hands somewhere on my body, caressing me with slow, hypnotic movements that added to the blissful, floating feeling.

As my breaths became deeper, I opened my eyes and looked over at him and his entire face looked pained and worried.

"What's the matter?"

"You were crying again. After everything was over you cried so hard that it sounded like you wanted to die," he said with tears welling up in his eyes.

"Adrian, please don't be so upset. I told you when I'm crying it's not about you."

"Then what is it about? The only time you cry is after … after I do certain things to you."

"I don't know what it's about exactly," I said, looking away from the eyes that suddenly seemed to be boring into me. For some reason, whenever this conversation came up we both had a hard time being honest about it. Or when we did talk about it, we would both say the fewest words possible so it seemed like we had talked, but in reality everything was still very vague and confusing.

I didn't know what it was I was experiencing during the most intense moments of the sex we had—the kinky, dirty sex. I felt like something was changing in me or coming up in some way and even though it felt bad at times, I didn't think it was a bad thing. And I didn't think that Adrian was bad for bringing it out in me. But I could tell that he was starting to feel that way. And I didn't know how to stop it.

"I don't want to hurt you, Brooklyn. I never wanted to hurt you."

"You're not hurting me. What makes you think you're hurting me?"

"But I am. I know I am."

Adrian turned on his back and stared at the ceiling.

"How do you know?"

"Because I can feel it. I can feel it the way I used to … down in the caverns … with the trainees. And I …"

"What? What are you trying to say, Adrian?"

"I want to … when I'm in the middle of it all … when I'm telling you what to do and you're doing anything I tell you to do … there's a part of me that does want to hurt you." He put his palms over his eyes and gripped his head like he was trying to rub out a painful memory. "It's sick, Brooklyn. I'm getting off on how hard I can make you cry, how loud I can make you scream.

"And then … when it's all over … it's like something in my brain switches back and I can't believe what I've done. I can't believe I'm the same person that did those things to you. I feel like I'm looking at that guy that used to be down in the caverns torturing girls, and I don't want it to be me. But it is. I'm still that guy."

"But there's a difference, Adrian. There's a big difference with what we're doing and what you and Lucas used to do with those girls. They were brought there against their will. They were trapped and had no choice. I have a choice."

"But you were one of those girls. You were down there against your will and didn't have a choice."

"But I'm not anymore. I'm with you because I want to be, because I choose to be. And the things you do to me that you think are so horrible? I want you to do those things. The tears aren't for you, Adrian. They're for me."

"What do you mean?" Adrian asked, turning over toward me again.

"I don't know. It's hard for me to articulate, even for myself. I just know what I'm feeling … it's complicated. While we're having sex there are a lot of thoughts floating in and out of my head. Sometimes the thoughts are about you and how good you make me feel, but sometimes the thoughts are about the way I feel about myself or my father or my childhood. I know that doesn't sound very sexy, but it's the truth. There's more to what's going on between us than just the sex."

"Why your father?"

"I don't know. Just some feelings I have, or memories … I don't even know what they mean. I do know that … the things you do to me—they bring something out in me that has been there for a long time. I'm not doing any of this because you're forcing me to. I wouldn't feel the way I do about you if that were the case."

"So, you like all of the things I do to you?"

"So far, yes."

"Why? I don't understand why you would like it," he said, his voice becoming softer and almost innocent. Like he genuinely couldn't fathom being on my end of this whole arrangement.

"I like the way it makes me feel, outside and inside."

"How does it make you feel?"

I didn't even know if I could begin to describe how I felt when Adrian and I were in that place. When we were both in sync with each other and all I wanted was to give him everything of myself. I closed my eyes and lay there for a while, trying to recreate those feelings inside me. And there was only one other thing I could think of that made me feel anything near what I'd experienced when I was with Adrian.

"This may sound silly, but okay … you know when you hear a song you really like. And even though you've heard it before you can't wait for it to get to a certain point where the notes fit perfectly together. The way the notes in the song sound together and build on top of each other and that sound resonates deep inside you.

"You know it's coming, the part you really like, and you're excited during the build-up, you're anticipating it and you can't wait for it to happen because you know how amazing it's going to be. And then … when it happens … when those notes blend together so perfectly, you can feel it … inside you, almost like it's a part of you. You can feel it in your body that those notes belong together. That's the best way to describe how it feels to me. How it feels to know that it's you doing the things you do to me."

Adrian stared at me like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. He just looked into my eyes and wrapped his arm around me and we stayed like that for a long time. I didn't know, but it almost felt like he was letting himself off the hook a little bit for everything he had done. Not just with me, but with everything in his past. At least I hoped he was.

* * *

I opened the pantry doors and looked around for what I could make for dinner. We had a lot of fresh produce, but I was exhausted after the intense sex we'd just had and opening a can of something sounded really good. I looked through the cans on the shelf, but for some reason my attention was drawn to one of the boxes sitting on the floor.

In between some of the cans and the side of the box was a large yellow envelope. I grabbed it and opened it up and as I pulled the contents out I realized that this was the envelope Adrian had been looking for the other night after we had been attacked.

There was one piece of paper inside, and on it I read my name under the words DNA Test Report. My name was at the top of one column, but there were two columns on the sheet and the name at the top of the other one wasn't completely familiar. The last name was Bellini, but the first name wasn't Adrian.

My first guess was that this was some sort of blood test that Adrian had done for our marriage certificate. But we had been married months ago. And his name wasn't Fredrick.

Then I looked down the two columns that were filled with a bunch of figures, and at the very bottom read: Possibility of Paternity: 99.9998%.

"What are we having for dinner, I'm starving," Adrian said as he came around the pantry door and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Who's Fredrick Bellini?" I asked, still staring at the paper in front of me. I didn't really need to ask though. I knew what this paper was saying, and I had a feeling I knew exactly who Fredrick Bellini was.

"He's my father—wait, where did you get this?" Adrian said as he grabbed the paper out of my hands. "Where did you get this?!"

I turned and looked at him and I could feel the tears burning my eyes and spilling over my lower lids.

"It was wedged inside one of the boxes. Why didn't you tell me, Adrian? How long have you known?"

He stood there staring at the paper for a long time, then ran his hand through his hair and turned away from me, but he didn't stop staring at the words on the piece of paper.

"So, what that piece of paper is saying is I'm your sister, right? That's what it's saying?"

"Yes," he said, barely above a whisper. He wadded the paper up in his fist and turned back around to face me. When he looked into my eyes he grabbed me and pulled me against him and wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm so sorry, Brooklyn. I should have told you, but I … I didn't know how."

"But when … how long have you known?"

"Lucas told me the day my father took you, the day he flew you to New York. He came into your room where I was out cold on the floor and after I came to he told me. He told me my father and your mother had an affair, and that's why my father hated yours so much, but he said he didn't know for sure about the rest of it. He didn't know for sure if Fredrick was your father too. He said he thought I knew, but I had no idea, I swear."

"But you knew after that, when we got married and all of the times we—"

"I didn't know anything, Brooklyn. This is the first time I'm getting any real information about this. All I knew was that my father had an affair with your mother, and it didn't seem fair to give you something like this to worry about when I didn't know anything for sure.

"But none of it matters to me, Brooklyn. What that paper says on it doesn't make a bit of difference to me. I don't care what it says, I love you!"

"It looked like you cared a few minutes ago when you read what was on that piece of paper. You went as white as a ghost."

I covered my face with my hands. I couldn't stop the sobs that were heaving out of me and causing my whole body to shake. Adrian wrapped his hands around my head as I buried my face in his chest.

"Brooklyn, I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. I wanted to tell you … I was going to tell you when I found out for sure. I was surprised when I saw the report, but what I'm saying is true. It doesn't matter to me. I've never known you as my sister, and I don't think of you that way now."

I knew what he was saying was true. I knew it didn't really matter, and that we could have lived the rest of our lives not knowing and it wouldn't have made a difference. But it was a complete shock and I couldn't pretend everything was perfectly okay. Plus there was one big problem that I couldn't deny.

I pulled my head back a bit and wiped the tears off of my cheeks, but still kept my eyes lowered. I had stopped sobbing and was able to talk, but I didn't know if I wanted to. It was almost too painful to think about, let alone say out loud.

"But what about …"

"What about what?" Adrian asked after a long pause.

"I wanted to have your children, Adrian. I wanted us to have a family together," I sobbed, gripping onto his shirt and hiding my face in his chest again.

I didn't know what to do or say. I knew he had been trying to protect me but I was stunned by this news. I was stunned by the thought that he was my brother and we were now illegally married. And even though I knew it wasn't the end of the world, that there were other options, I was in agony over the fact that we would never be able to have our own children.

And suddenly everything came crashing back to me. The memory of my parents talking about me late at night. The feeling I had my whole life that I didn't belong, that I wasn't good enough for my father, ever. It all made sense and it all made me want to die.

It wasn't Adrian's fault. None of it was Adrian's fault. It was my horrible, greedy father who had gotten us into all of this. But blaming him wouldn't do any good. It wouldn't make things better or give me Adrian's children.

"I'm so sorry, Brooklyn." I could hear the anguish in his voice, and I knew he was blaming himself for all of this.

"It's not your fault, Adrian. I know you were just trying to protect me. I know you didn't have anything to do with this. I'm so tired now. I think I'm going to go and lie down."

"Aren't you hungry?"

"No, not anymore."

Adrian brushed my hair back from my face and kissed my forehead, and as much as I wanted to look up into his eyes and smile and believe everything would work out, I just couldn't. I needed some time alone.

"I'll make some soup for you in case you get hungry later."

"Okay," I said as I turned to leave, but Adrian wouldn't let go of me.

"Brooklyn. Are you all right?" His voice sounded scared, and no matter what had happened up until this point with his father or his brother, I had never heard his voice sound like that.

"I need to be by myself for a little while. I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow, after things have settled in a bit."

Adrian dropped his hands and let me turn and leave, and I wished with all my heart as I walked into the bedroom and fell onto the bed I hadn't ever read that piece of paper.