Eleven
Months passed, and Asher finally put Darcy behind him. She would always hold a piece of his heart, but she was his past. Grace had continued to flourish under his care. Her nightmares had ceased, and it didn’t seem that her former master haunted her anymore.
After the day at the brander’s office, He’d feared he’d lose his progress with her, but the brief and unsettling exchange hadn’t managed to take away her overall feeling of safety.
He absentmindedly ruffled his pet’s hair. She knelt on a pillow next to him in his study, wearing a bikini and tan-colored pants. She’d been lonely, so he’d invited her into the study with him while he took care of a few matters with his investment portfolio. Grace kept herself occupied, painting a little clay pot she’d made. She’d been lining her windowsills with them for weeks now. Their happy presence made her room seem even brighter and just a touch bohemian, as if she’d become a true islander.
The brand was almost fully healed, leaving behind a clean scar of his estate symbol. Asher stroked his mark, and she smiled at him.
This was the scene that was interrupted by a knock on the front door at four o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. A few sharp words were exchanged down the hall by William and whoever had come calling. Moments later, footsteps pounded down the hall, and two island officials stood in the doorway. One flashed a badge and the other produced a document.
“Asher Collins, you’re under arrest for the murder of Darcy McDonald.”
Their words turned the room into a vacuum where no air seemed capable of penetrating. Grace dropped the pot she’d been so carefully painting, and it shattered on the hardwood floor.
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“Forget it.”
Her face fell. They both knew nothing would ever be done about her breaking the little pot. Whereas, before the words “you’re under arrest” had pressed into the room, she would have been caned for the infraction, or at the very least made to write lines or stand in a corner for a couple of hours. There wasn’t time for any of that now.
He didn’t bother stalling. What was the point? The more worked up he got, the more upset and agitated Grace would become. He could at least go away with dignity. His chest tightened as he looked down at her. She was moments away from uncontrollable sobbing fits. The moisture had gathered around the corners of her eyes, threatening to launch the tsunami of grief.
They must have found Darcy’s body. So much time had passed; he’d thought it was over. Ironic that the moment he found himself finally able to move on and bury the guilt, her body should surface. It was as if she were punishing him from beyond the grave for loving Grace. For replacing her.
He could almost hear her voice in his mind. Wasn’t your purpose to atone? Not move on and live happily ever after?
He moved to the front of the desk. “I’d like to request that you set my slave free off the island. Send her to live with her friend.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible under the circumstances,” one of the uniformed men said. “According to the law, in a situation like this, the individual under arrest loses all human ownership privileges, and the slave reverts back to being the property of her former master.” He looked down at the document he’d shown a moment ago. “That would be Lucas Stone. He’s already been notified and has requested that she be returned to him.”
Asher bet he’d been notified. He’d probably spent every waking hour since the elevator incident, searching for the body.
Grace crawled to him and latched around his leg like a small child intent on stopping his progress out the door. She let out a blood-curdling shriek and kept repeating the word, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”
He would have ordered her to pipe down and show a bit of decorum but he couldn’t have reached her even if he’d tried. She’d gone somewhere inside herself. The vocalizations surfaced from wherever she was, but if he spoke, he knew she wouldn’t hear him. If it was possible, she seemed to be in worse shape than she’d been in the day he brought her home.
“You can’t mean to give her back to him. Whatever you think I’ve done, that’s not Grace’s sin. She’s an innocent in this. Stone abused her. He left scars on her. If you have any decency at all, you won’t send her back there.”
Asher wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t about to admit to killing Darcy. In the first place, it hadn’t been his hand that had delivered the fatal blow. It didn’t matter how responsible he knew he was, he wasn’t about to say anything that sounded like a confession. Whether they had the body or not, he would hold his tongue until he had further information in case there was still a way out of this.
One of the officials wrapped a hand around Grace’s arm and jerked her to her feet. “I’m sorry, Mr. Collins. The law is the law. And unfortunately we have no legislation protecting the general welfare of slaves short of not killing them.” He gave Asher a dark look as if to say death was far worse than abuse.
She was still chanting, “No, no, no, no, no,” like a crazy person. Asher couldn’t say he blamed her. A similar chant had started inside his own head, only he’d managed to keep it inside. For now.
“Let me just have a few minutes to speak with her alone, to say goodbye.”
The officials exchanged a glance and shrugged, seeing no harm in it. One of them seemed sorry to be returning her to a man who might have been hurting her. “Fifteen minutes. We’ll be waiting for both of you by the front door.”
***
As soon as they were alone Asher hauled back and slapped her. He needed Grace to be lucid and to get over whatever hysterical episode she was having. They didn’t have time for it. Her hand shot up to her cheek and her eyes immediately cleared and went to his. Her lip trembled, but she didn’t say anything. She just stood there, quiet and waiting, and at least seemingly in control of herself for the time being.
“We don’t have a lot of time here. I need you to listen to me.” He unlatched the window and pushed it open. “You have to leave right now. Go to the dock and use my boat. It’s not meant for taking far out to sea. Just take it out about a mile and then circle to the other end of the island where the trees are denser. You’ll see the huts that the natives live in. A friend of mine, James, lives with them. He’s got blond hair and brown eyes. I want you to give yourself to him and do whatever he says. He’ll protect you.”
Asher pulled her against him, knowing he was probably crushing her, but she seemed too dazed to protest. He inhaled her coconut-scented shampoo. She smelled like the island. When she didn’t immediately answer, he shook her.
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Master.” Her voice was so small. He would have given anything to change things. Why the fuck hadn’t he and James put the body in an incinerator like they had some sense? No body. No crime. But no, they’d stupidly buried it. Hadn’t they watched enough television to know nothing ever stayed buried? Hadn’t he known on some level that this would come back to bite him at the worst possible time? A part of him had wanted to get caught back then, but that line of self-destructive thinking had ended the moment Grace entered his life.
She reluctantly pulled out of his embrace and started to climb out the window, her movements stilted and robotic as if she were on autopilot. He was thankful the study was on the first floor. At least she wouldn’t have to negotiate a high drop.
“Grace?”
She turned. The plea in her eyes startled him, as if she might beg him to run with her. But he couldn’t. It was too risky. The officials wanted him more than they wanted her. He was the criminal in their eyes. She would only cost them reward money.
“You know I love you, right? I loved you from the first moment I saw you. If I never see you again, I needed you to know.”
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “I love you too, Master. Maybe not from the beginning. I was too scared in the beginning.”
“I know.” He would always wonder when she’d started to fall in love, but he couldn’t afford that kind of self-indulgence right now. Every minute they took talking was a minute she couldn’t make her escape. He pulled her to him again, his mouth crushing hers, tasting her, probably for the last time. “Go,” he whispered into her hair.
When she’d gone, he watched out the window as she ran to the pier. Every few minutes he glanced down at his watch. He could barely see the boat, a small speck on the water. He wondered if he’d even hear it start up. A few minutes later, he did hear it. From the study, it was a tiny sound, no louder than the buzz of a bumblebee. Then the little white speck moved away, and he couldn’t see it anymore.
Finally, he closed the window and latched it back. No sense giving the officials any help. He pulled the book out of the bookcase and was staring down the stairs five minutes later when the men knocked on the study door.
“Time’s up.”
“It’s open,” he said.
The door swung in, and the two uniformed officials stumbled into the room. “Where is she?”
Asher glanced up. If they bought that she’d escaped through some secret door or tunnel under the house, it would buy her a little more time to get farther around the island.
“She’s gone,” he said with a shrug.
One of the uniforms punched him in the jaw, and his head reeled back. He just laughed.
“We’ll have you charged with helping her escape in addition to the murder charges.”
“In the first place, I haven’t murdered anyone,” Asher said. “And in the second place, Grace is not a criminal.”
“She’s a runaway slave.”
“She was merely following her master’s orders. She wasn’t breaking Eleu laws.”
The official cuffed Asher using more force than necessary, then patted him down and led him outside while his partner took the bait and started down the dungeon steps in search of his pet. Idiots.
***
Grace stared at her master’s house until it became an indiscernible dot on the horizon. She’d wanted to shout that he hadn’t killed Darcy, but she’d been so panicked that every time she tried to make a word come out, the only one that would make it past her lips had been, no.
Thankfully, since Asher had slapped her, she’d snapped out of whatever that was and was at least able to focus on the task at hand.
She was far enough out now that she cut the engine and let the boat drift. A part of her was tempted to leave and never set foot on the island again. But it was far too dangerous. She had no idea where she was or what direction would take her back to the mainland. If she went the wrong way, the boat would run out of fuel and she’d be drifting out at sea, at the mercy of the elements.
Even if there was a chance, she couldn’t bring herself to disobey his last order. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, sure her face was puffy from the tears. Not only was she convinced she wasn’t fit to give herself to anybody in this state, she couldn’t imagine being with someone besides Asher. Even if the order had come from him. It seemed profane.
The thought of betraying her master by letting any other man use her body made her stomach churn in rebellion. But she could barely bring herself to question the command. She’d do whatever he told her to do, even if it meant going to another man’s bed.
The sun was setting when she reached the shore. A dense and foreboding jungle loomed in the distance, but on the coastline were the artistically thatched huts of the native people.
Torches were being lit, and fires were being stoked beneath the evening meal that had been hunted in the nearby jungle. Though some of the islanders owned shops and restaurants in the town and used money, a good portion of them preferred to live off the land as they had for centuries.
She was glad she was wearing something relatively normal. In her bikini and khaki cargo pants, she looked like a girl gone wild on spring break. But at least she didn’t look like some kinked-out slave, except for the collar around her throat and the nearly healed brand on her hip.
As she neared the camp, a few of the islanders looked up. Their expressions weren’t friendly. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
She didn’t see anyone fitting James’s description. Maybe he no longer lived with them, or maybe there was another settlement on a different part of the island Asher wasn’t aware of.
A few of the men moved away from the fire toward her. She had to fight every instinct not to run, but the only options this late were the jungle or the boat, and neither place seemed safe in the encroaching darkness.
They spoke rapidly to each other in their native tongue. Grace wouldn’t have understood them even if she’d considered herself fluent. They were speaking far too fast. A few kept pointing to their throats, and she knew they were having some kind of conversation about her slave status.
“Do any of you speak English?”
They stopped for a moment and blinked at her. She didn’t know as much about the politics and culture of the island as she’d thought. She’d lumped all islanders together as if they were one cohesive unit, not bothering to consider that different groups might live in different ways. These people were clearly not integrated with the main island like the shop owners were.
She started to back away. Angry natives and a language barrier didn’t sound like a fun time. They advanced. Grace stumbled in the sand as she ran, and a moment later they surrounded her, talking fast and loud as before. She moved her hands defensively in front of her face. Without language, she had no means to talk herself out of the situation, nor did she know what might come next.
“Stop.”
The men looked up and Grace turned in the direction of the clearly spoken English. The man had no accent as a native islander would. He looked like a surfer. His sandy blond hair, streaked with lighter gold from the sun, fell in a sexy mop over his eyes. She couldn’t tell from just the torchlight if they were brown.
The surfer turned to the men and spoke in the island language, calmly and reasonably. The men looked back at her as if deep in thought, then back at the blond. Finally they spoke in what sounded like agreement and went back to the camp.
The man held out a hand to help her stand. “There’s a price on your head, you know. All runaway slaves fetch a high reward if returned to the officials. They were arguing over what they should do with you. I said we should bring you to camp and find out your story before we make any rash moves. I’m James.”
Words tumbled fast, before she could stop them and run back to the boat to form a Plan B. “I’m Grace. I belong to Asher Collins. He’s been arrested for the murder of his last slave. He helped me escape so they wouldn’t take me and said to come to you and give myself to you, that you’d keep me safe.”
She’d taken a chill in the night breeze and wrapped her arms around her frame to ward it off, wishing she were wearing something warmer. James stared at her for a long time, long enough she feared he’d turn his back on her and leave her there in the dark. Finally, he started back toward the settlement.
“Come,” he called quietly behind him.
She somehow made her feet move and followed him into the camp past several huts until he stopped at one and pulled back the heavy burlap that served as a door.
“Inside,” he said.
She went in, but when she turned around, he was gone again. A few moments later, he returned with two plates of wild boar that must have been roasted over open flame all day. The boar was surrounded by rice, a few vegetables native to the island, and several rings of fresh pineapple.
“Sit.”
She was confused by his sudden monosyllabic nature. He’d spoken in full sentences before she’d told him why she’d come. She sat on the rug and he gave her food. He put his plate on the ground and left again, returning with two cups of water.
She hesitated before she spoke, uncertain if he might punish her. But Asher said he’d keep her safe. That he was a friend. If her master trusted him, he must be okay. “Will you keep me?”
An endless stretch of silence hung between them, interrupted only by the sound of crude flatware scraping across plates. He ate several bites of the boar as if he hadn’t heard her, as if he were lost in his own private world where no sound could penetrate. What would happen if he didn’t want her?
As much as she couldn’t stand the thought of giving herself to someone else, the reality was that Asher was gone and someone would have her now. It was better to belong to the man he’d chosen than to Lucas. She had to keep that thought in the front of her mind. Anyone was better than Lucas.
She was trying to gather the courage to speak again when he looked up at her, his face unreadable.
“Yes.”
She let out a shaky breath and went back to her plate. He didn’t speak again, didn’t look at her, didn’t try to touch her. It was then that she noticed the pain that seemed to surround him like a death shroud. She wanted to know what had driven him out of the fine mansion he must have once occupied to live with this tribe by the ocean. But she knew it wasn’t her place to ask.
When their plates were clean, he still didn’t make a move toward her. She wondered if he could feel her pain over losing Asher and if it added somehow to his own. She’d always hated the saying “Misery loves company”. Misery hated company; it only made the blanket of pain that much thicker and impossible to untangle oneself from.
He didn’t seem committed to the idea of her being there, and the fear of what that meant hit her in the gut like a fist. She had to make him want her there.
She gingerly reached behind her to untie the strings of the bikini top. Then she stood and let the shorts fall, and the bikini bottoms with them. He looked up at her, his gaze both hungry and distant. But he didn’t make a move.
Grace sat back down, feeling too much on display standing naked in front of him. He wanted her; it was in his eyes. All she had to do was make a move to secure her safety. Conflicting thoughts tumbled through her mind so loud it blocked out everything else.
I can’t just betray Asher. It’s not betrayal if he ordered it. James won’t hurt me. If he would, I wouldn’t have been sent here. If I don’t do this, he might throw me out. I need to convince him he wants me here. He’s my only hope of surviving now.
Several minutes passed before she made herself crawl over to him, the tears sliding down her face. This is what Asher ordered. I have to do this. How can I even think about disobeying him in any way after everything he did for me?
He tentatively reached out, his fingers feathering lightly over one breast before closing around it. The other hand threaded through her hair and wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her to his mouth. The gesture was so much like Asher that she could close her eyes and it was him. So she did.
She was lost in the heady daydream of Asher holding her, kissing her, when she was pushed away and ripped from the fantasy. She looked up, afraid he knew she hadn’t been with him as his lips had stroked over hers. Afraid he might punish her for it, and so conflicted over who she should be loyal to now. When her eyes met his, it was that same agonizing pain on his face.
“I’m sorry . . .” She hesitated, unable to let the word Master pass through her lips. Not yet. He would insist at some point, and she’d have to obey. But she wanted to hold onto the one remaining thing that tied her only to Asher for a little while longer.
“I killed Darcy,” he said, his voice flat of emotion.
The admission had her scooting away. Did Asher know? He had to know. William said it was an accident––not by her master’s hand. Accident or not, the knowledge that the man she was with had taken a life had her moving as far from James as she could get without leaving the hut.
“I won’t hurt you.”
She wanted to believe him.
Minutes crawled by and he sighed. “I can’t do this.”
Those words had her scrambling back to him, desperate to change his mind, knowing what would happen if he wouldn’t keep her. “Please, I can’t go back to Lucas. You don’t know what he’s like. Please don’t send me away––”
“Get dressed.”
She wanted to protest, but his decision had been made. He stood and gathered their dinner plates. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the bikini and pants, feeling stupid, exposed, ashamed, scared. So many feelings and no feelings all at once as a part of her seemed to numb out over the idea of being returned to the man she loathed and feared.
“I have to turn myself in. I can’t let him lose another woman he loves because of me.” James looked at her then, as if just now realizing she was in his hut, so lost in his own head he hadn’t stopped to think how his previous words had sounded. He brushed her hair back from her face and wiped her tears, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Shhhh. I’ll fix this. I promise.”
Grace just stared as he crossed to the door flap and peered out.
“I want you to stay in this hut. I’m going to tell them you’re mine and that I have to go do something but may send a friend for you. If anything happens and Asher can’t come, if they think you’re mine, they may let you stay.”
Purpose attached itself to him, and he seemed to come alive as he packed a bag for his journey. “How did you get here?”
“Asher’s boat.”
“Good. I need to use it. I’ll take it back to his house, then go into town from there.”
She knew enough about the layout of the land to know going through the jungle would be far quicker, even on foot, than traveling around the circumference by sea. But going through the jungle was more dangerous, and alone, James faced better odds if he took the boat. She just hoped there was enough fuel to get him back.
He went to the door again and stopped. “When Asher comes for you, tell him his forgiveness means everything to me. I know he wouldn’t have sent you here if he hadn’t forgiven me. I’ve tried to forgive myself, but it’s just not working. Maybe doing the right thing will fix that.”
She sat by the door, listening as he explained things to the natives, then all was quiet outside the hut.
He’d only been gone a short while when one of the islanders that had first chased her came in. She swallowed around the lump in her throat as he brought her outside. Several men held torches and each had a small bag of provisions looped over one shoulder. Whatever James thought they’d agreed to, they obviously hadn’t. They were yelling at her in that language she didn’t understand. Then they were dragging her through the jungle toward the center of the island and the waiting bounty.
***
It was midnight when the officials returned her to Lucas. With the shortcut through the jungle, they’d beaten James to the prison. Money talked, even to natives living off the land. The trade had been fast, with the officials saying things in the native language she didn’t understand, catching only the “thank you” part. Then they’d taken her back to Lucas, despite her pleas for asylum from him.
As she cowered in the dungeon, the only bright spot was the hope that James would make it, do the right thing, and then Asher would be freed to come after her. At least she had that hope to cling to. She knew she’d need it.
“Miss me, pet?” Lucas’s cold, dark eyes were almost enough to make her start screaming and begging after only three minutes in his care. But she remained silent, mentally calculating in her head how close James was to the station, and how long it might take him to give his confession, and then how long it might take Asher to get free and come find her. She shuddered over the idea of all the extra time she’d have to wait as he made his way over to the natives, only to discover they’d returned her to the officials.
With all that, it would be morning before he could get to her. Surely she could hold out and not betray him until morning. A part of her knew Asher wouldn’t blame her for anything she submitted to in this dungeon. Still. She felt she should be strong for him and not capitulate too quickly. She wouldn’t be able to live with the shame if she did.
He’d wanted her to go to James and submit for her own safety. He didn’t expect her to hold out on his account. He wanted her safe and alive. She had to admit she preferred safe and alive as well, but safe was no longer an option with Lucas calling the shots.
“We’ve got a lot of bad training to undo,” Lucas said. “When I saw you in the elevator, how completely you’d given yourself to Collins, I realized I gave up on you too soon. I should never have let you go.”
“But you did.”
His hand came across her face swift and sharp. “You filthy slut. It’s only because I’m merciful that I’m keeping you for myself. I should whore you out.” He ran a finger over the platinum collar, disgust in his eyes.
“You’ll have to chop my head off to get it off,” she said, unsure where her sudden bravery was coming from. All she knew was that she only had to endure a few hours with him, and she’d be damned if he broke her down to the terrified creature she’d been in that time. She didn’t like the idea of Asher riding to the rescue only to see her submitting to her former master without much of a fight.
He laughed. “Oh, it’s going to be fun breaking you back down. I thought if Asher killed his last slave, then surely he was a bigger bastard than me. But when I saw you with him in town that day, and you looked . . . happy . . . Well, it seems he had different intentions for you than I did. As to your collar, I’ll call a locksmith in the morning. We’ll have the offending object off your throat by lunchtime. I expect I’ll only have to withhold meals for a couple of days and you’ll be back to where you were before. Don’t think you’ve suddenly gotten strong. You’ve just gotten spoiled. It’s a very different thing.”
Grace didn’t comment. There was no sense baiting him more. If she pissed him off enough, he might lose control and kill her. It was obvious the little bit of sanity he had was becoming dangerously frayed. She was the one project he seemed determined to finish.
She closed her eyes, trying not to see the look that would be on Asher’s face when he discovered her dead in Lucas’s dungeon. To come this far, only to end like that seemed stupid at best. Whatever her captor managed to deal out to her in the next few hours, it would happen, and then it would be done. All she had to do was survive it.
She cringed when he stroked her collarbone. “Pity you’ll lose this tan. I prefer you pale and vulnerable. I think I’ll take great pleasure in watching the golden color drain from your skin day by day until you’ve paled out. You’ll never see the sun again. I hope you enjoyed it while you were over at the Collins’ Vacation Spa.”
“Why do you even keep a slave if you can’t take care of one? You know the value drops when you do that shit.”
He shrugged. “You fetched a high-enough price. There is always someone willing to pay. Always someone with similar tastes and ideas of what a slave should be, but I won’t sell you again. We are forever, Grace. I should have known the moment I laid eyes on you that you would be the one.”
Having grown bored with the pleasantries, he pulled a knife from his pocket and cut the clothes off her. Tears sprang to her eyes when he yanked her hair back, turning her this way and that, inspecting his returned property.
He cursed when he turned her around, and she knew he’d seen the brand. At the time Asher had done it, it had felt like safety, a guarantee of some sort. But there were no guarantees on this island, and now all it did was anger the man she was currently with.
“You little cunt.” He spun her back to face him, obviously unable to bear looking at Asher’s estate symbol a second longer. Enraged, he grabbed her by the throat and pressed her against the wall. “You have the nerve to talk about devaluing property? Whatever made you think you had the right to wear his estate symbol? Did you really think you’d be free of me forever?”
What the fuck did he mean did she really think she’d be free of him? He’d sold her. He’d seemed thrilled to get rid of her because of that last piece he couldn’t break or have, or whatever insane babbling he’d been doing the day of her sale. Back when he’d been so smug and convinced Asher would break her beyond recognition and finish a job he was either too lazy or incompetent to finish himself. Now he seemed motivated to try again.
“Answer me, slave.”
“You sold me. So, yes, I thought we were done.” She hadn’t uttered the word master yet, and hoped somehow she would get out of here without ever having to refer to him in that way again, but somehow she doubted it. Rescue was still a long way off. If it’s even coming at all.
Although she had some idea of how things were supposed to play out, it actually happening that way was still in the air. The boat could run out of fuel, and James could be stranded. He could change his mind, leaving Asher to pay for his crime. He could confess, and they might not believe him, or they might keep them both in custody, anyway. There was no guarantee her master would be released at all.
She shivered as that realization fully sank in. What if he never came for her? She’d torture herself forever wondering what had happened, each day her hope of rescue shrinking smaller and smaller. She pictured herself back where Lucas had her before, maybe worse. Because he was right. She had been at the Collins’ Vacation Spa. She’d been living a life of luxury and pampering and love.
His hand squeezed tighter around her throat, cutting off her oxygen. “My, have we got our work cut out for us. After I get that ridiculous collar off your neck, I’m going to cut that branding mark off. Since you’ve already depreciated, I’m going to brand your other hip with my estate symbol.”
“P . . . please . . .” She felt herself turning blue, the words barely having enough room and air supply to escape.
“Please? Please what? Who are you appealing to? I control everything. I control your right to food, water, sleep, oxygen. Who am I that I control so much?”
She shook her head, knowing the stubbornness was stupid. She was buying herself all of what? Five seconds? Because in the next few moments she’d either say what he wanted to hear, or pass out. And she was far too afraid of what he’d do to her while she was unconscious.
Her fingernails clawed at his hand. Lucas loosened his grip a little, and she took in all the oxygen she could get.
“The things I did to you while you were with me were mild compared to what I feel like doing right now. You will die in this room. It can be right now, or it can be twenty or thirty years from now, if you’re lucky.”
If there was no hope of Asher’s return, Grace would dispute which option was the lucky one. She could envision herself driving him to such a rage he’d kill her and all this would be over. But the hope of being rescued and being happy again held her in check.
He hadn’t removed his hand from her throat, subtly reminding her he held the power of her life in only one of his hands. “Trust me, pet, you don’t want to piss me off anymore than I already am. The sooner you get over this bizarre pride or loyalty or whatever it is and submit to me, the better for you. Who am I?”
She looked into his cold, obsidian gaze. “You may get me to say the word, but know this, you will never truly own me. That right belongs to my real master. You might take his symbol off my hip, but there will always be a scar that reminds us both what was there. And you might take his collar off my throat, but you’ll never erase his name from my soul.”
A moment later his fist came back, and then she sank into blissful unconsciousness.