I drink two glasses of champagne. My body is so unused to alcohol that it’s more than enough to get me drunk. Thankfully, it’s not an obnoxious, do-something-I’ll-regret drunk. An hour into the flight, I pass out in one of the massive leather recliners while in the chair opposite mine, Liam does whatever on his fancy tablet.

I have weird, vivid dreams about game pieces and giant hands moving them. Then I wake up in my old apartment in Los Angeles, only my hair is bright blonde and my skin tan. Scrambling from beneath the sheets, I run into the bathroom and see Alexis in the mirror. I’m her. I scream, and the woman in the mirror smiles and waves.

“It’s just a dream, Eden. Wake up now.”

Humming engine. Recycled air. A cramp in my left calf muscle.

“Ugh.” I wipe at my eyes, then stare at my black fingers. Stupid mascara.

Liam is crouched beside my chair, smirking. “Not the best look for you, I’ll admit. Though I’m growing fond of the dress.”

I glance down to see most of the dress bunched toward my middle. The top hem rides precariously close to my bare nipples. With jerky movements, I tuck the fabric up and down respectively, then focus on him.

“How long was I out?”

“Two hours.”

The shades beside my chair are down, but behind Liam I see hazy sunlight through the oval windows.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

I make a face. “Meh. Head hurts. Thirsty. God, I hate champagne.” He hands me a bottle of water. My brows lift as I take it from him. “Are you my genie now?”

Mischief sparkles in his too-blue eyes. “Do you want me to be?”

Yes.

No.

Kind of.

I take a few swigs of water and cap the bottle. Then I clear my throat. “I need to pee.”

I scoot off the chair, skirt around Liam, and head for my bag. I do need to pee, and I am a little hungry, but at the top of my priority list is getting out of my bimbo get-up. It makes me feel things I’m not ready to feel, like feminine and sensuous. Nor am I ready to deal with Liam’s lingering looks, the desire I’d seen in his eyes.

Not bothering to wait for a response from him, I take my bag toward the back of the plane to the bathroom. Inside, I hurriedly strip off the dress and trade it for soft linen drawstring pants, a sports bra, and a white tank top. Lastly, I make use of the little soap dispenser to wash the caked makeup from my face. My eyes sting as I scrub off mascara, and they’re red by the time I’m done.

Staring at my bare face in the mirror, I don’t see anyone desirable. I see a tired, jaded woman whose concept of living has been reduced to putting one foot in front of the other.

Will I ever feel joy again?

Will the nightmares ever fade?

Will I ever be able to stand the touch of a man?

The last thought brings an unwanted vision of red rope and tattooed arms. I will serve. A flush blooms in my cheeks. Desire flutters in my blood.

Strangely, I feel no revulsion with the arousal. Not like I do when I think of being tied. Controlled.

And I wonder.

* * *

When I reenter the cabin, Liam is reclining in his chair, the shades beside him closed. His eyes are closed as well, but I know he’s not sleeping.

“Liam?”

He grunts.

I sit on the edge of my chair, my knees facing him. “What favor did you do for the Solórzano Cartel?”

He frowns, eyes still closed. “Guess.”

“You found someone?”

“Bullseye.”

“Who?”

Turning his head toward me, his eyes crack open. “Carlos’s second daughter. She’d been kidnapped by a rival cartel.”

I clasp my hands between my knees. “And she was okay?”

“Define ‘okay.’” He tucks his arms beneath his head and stares at the dimly lit ceiling. “I don’t mean to be flippant. No, she wasn’t okay. But she was alive. Married with kids now, I hear.”

“Did you—do you do a lot of that?” I ask haltingly. “Find missing people and bring them home?”

“Don’t make a saint out of me, Eden. I found people for bad reasons, too, and I willingly brought them to their executioners. And before you ask—no, I never asked or cared whether they deserved to be caught.”

I mull over the words, recognizing his effort to shock me. But I’m more interested in his use of the past tense. “You don’t, um, work, anymore?”

“Not since Dublin. You could say I took early retirement.” His head swivels, his sudden stare piercing. “Your turn. How many?”

I frown. “Huh?”

“Six years is a long time for a submissive to go without a dom. How many did you have in Seattle?”

I’m so shocked by the question, for several moments I stare blankly at him. Maybe it’s the lack of judgement in his eyes, or the forced intimacy of being locked in a tube hurtling through the sky… but I tell him the truth.

“None.”

Liam’s expression is so locked down I can’t tell if he’s surprised.

“You don’t believe me?”

He stares and stares until I feel my face warm with embarrassment. Finally, he murmurs, “Forgive me, but I’m trying to decide whether to be horrified or pleased.”

I pick at the edge of my tank top. “Why would you be horrified?”

His feet drop to the floor as he swivels and sits up. Elbows on his knees, he gives me a level look. “Because that’s a long time to sacrifice what you need. Why did you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Those azure eyes narrow appraisingly. “Not even once?”

I shake my head again. “Really, Liam—”

“You’re blushing, siren.” He drags in an audible breath; it trembles through him. “Was it because of me?”

I stand up fast. “I’m hungry.”

I make it halfway to the bar before he grabs my arm and spins me around. I aim an uppercut to his neck, but he blocks it with ease. His hips pivot to avoid my knee smashing his balls, and he seizes my other hand before my nails reach his face.

It takes him a total of ten seconds to immobilize me with my wrists locked behind my back. By his widened eyes, I know he’s surprised that I gave up so easily.

I’m surprised, too. By more than my unwillingness to defend myself. I don’t know if he can sense it—the wetness between my legs—but it both thrills and terrifies me.

“You want to know if it was because of you?” I seethe to disguise my confusion. “Of course it was. I tried… once. I couldn’t do it. You were my dom. My master. And you were irreplaceable.”

His gaze dips to my lips. “Ask me.”

I bite out the question, “How many subs?”

“None,” he breathes.

I can’t prevent my jerk of disbelief. Liam releases me, his fingers stroking up my arms as he guides them to my sides.

“But you’ve…” I trail off.

A brow lifts. “Yes. As have you.”

Something in his eyes tell me he knows I was living with someone. He knows. With rising discomfort, I think of Grant—how worried and sad he must be. I’ve been gone nearly four months. Does he think I’m dead?

I turn back toward the bar. Liam doesn’t stop me this time.

His voice low with unnamed emotion, he asks, “Will you go back to him, when you have the money?”

Will I?

“I don’t know.”

I have to, if only to say goodbye. I already know I can’t be the woman I was. More walls have arisen between my past and present. Unassailable boundaries between who I used to be and who I am now.

You’re not broken. You’re breaking free.

I grab a cluster of grapes and turn. “I need you to do something for me.”

His gaze lifts from the floor. “What, siren?”

“Teach me to tie knots.”