Alexis and Chris never arrive.

When we’ve waited forty-five minutes, Liam makes a call. It’s brief, and when he hangs up his shoulders are tight with tension.

“What is it?” I ask nervously. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Christopher took her home. Maddoc’s orders.”

“He doesn’t want us to meet,” I conclude flatly.

“Not while I’m in the mix, I’m afraid.” Liam pinches the bridge of his nose. “All right, here’s what’s going to happen. Pack a bag. Bare essentials. I’ll give you money to cover what you’re leaving behind. You’ll be on the first flight tomorrow to Oregon.”

“What—no!”

“Yes,” he snaps, hand dropping. “This is over, Eden. Over! I thought… I thought I could protect you, but I can’t. Not from your own innocence and curiosity. Maddoc is a mercurial sonofabitch, and you need to be gone before he remembers how badly he wants you.”

“My mother, you mean. Elizabeth. Whatever she took from him.”

“She took you, Eden. But yes,” he huffs caustically, “I suppose I’m a larger prize.”

My world darkens at the edges, its sun dimming as he moves further and further from reach.

“This isn’t right!” I cry, tears finally coming, leaking fast from my eyes. I think of Alexis, but she’s mostly a phantom voice. Not real yet. But he is. I walk toward him. Toward the sun.

“You’re mine, Liam. Not hers.”

He smiles, but his eyes stay shadowed and distant. “You’ll find another, little dove. You’re young yet.”

My hand stings. I stare at it, the pale surface, then at the red mark intensifying on his cheek. He doesn’t react, just watches me with his too-knowing eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, voice thick with regret. “Sorry for everything. Eden, I—” He swallows the words, shaking his head, then turns on a heel and ascends the stairs.

Calm. Graceful. Powerful.

Not mine. But if I’m honest, I always knew he couldn’t be. Not for long, anyway.

* * *

My packed bag sits on the end of my bed. A few pairs of underwear. Some jeans, shirts, and a sweatshirt. Toiletries and the laptop I haven’t opened in weeks. I’ve just showered, and my wet hair hangs limp and tangled down my back. My phone is dark in my hand, but lights up when I press the home button.

I read the short text message from an unknown number for the fiftieth time.

Stay away from her.

Is the message from Chris, or another man in the employ of my father? Or is it from the man himself, Maddoc Donnelly? If it did come from him, I now have my answer as to whether he gives a shit about his long-lost daughter.

I don’t feel any relief at the thought of escaping. None at all. Beneath a layer of numbness is a maelstrom of emotion. Like a Kraken under calm waters, there’s a shifting deep within as chaos rises.

How am I supposed to move forward with my life? What a fucking joke. There’s no moving past this. No forgetting this, despite my promise to Liam. Does he really think I can just move to Seattle as planned, go to med school and become a doctor, live a normal life?

There’s no life without sunlight.

A cascade of unwanted visions paints my closed eyelids—Liam and Alexis. Alexis and Liam. Maybe in the dark, she’ll feel just like me. Maybe she’ll feel better, even. Maybe she’s better in the way that he needs. A perfect sub in and out of the bedroom.

I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are.

Maybe he’ll forget me.

With that thought, a dark need possesses my limbs. I toss my phone onto the bed and stand. Leaving my hair as it is, I slip out of my robe. Cool air skates across my exposed skin.

The soles of my feet tingle on carpet as I walk from the bedroom, down the shadowed hallway toward the dim outline of his door.

I don’t knock. The knob turns silently in my shaking fingers. I take one step, two steps, then drop to my knees and bow my head. No lights are on, but I know he’s here. I can feel him.

An eternity passes before he speaks.

“No, Eden.”

My breath releases harshly; my fingers clench. “Please, sir.”

“Why?” he asks, sounding forlorn, so lost. Just as I am.

“Because I need it, sir.”

He laughs, so softly it’s little more than huffs of air. “Such a demanding, selfish little dove.”

“You like it.”

“I suppose I do,” he muses. “Did you know there are Doms who specifically want subs who talk back?”

I swallow. “Are you one of them?”

“Until you, no.” He pauses; fabric whispers as he stands from the bed. “I won’t go outside your limits, but I’ll push them. Maybe further than you want. I’m not in a peaceful headspace at the moment.”

“I serve to please you, sir.”

“What’s your safe word?”

“Clover.”

He hesitates, the seesaw of power dipping and rising between us. My surrender. And finally, his.

“On all fours, dove. Crawl to the dresser. Bottom drawer. Two lengths of rope. Flogger. Clamps. Black beads. Carry them in your teeth. Don’t drop them.”

He’s the sun, dissolving my darkness and filling me with molten light.