The thin line between illusion and reality has officially been erased. I can hardly remember the woman who walked into the room just days before. I have not been outside the walls of the bedroom, but it's a prison I relish. My only human contact has been Blake and Kane. Attaching the human label to Kane seems lacking, understated.

As Blake gently brushes my hair, I stare at my refection in the mirror trying to find any piece of Angie Tennyson. But she is gone. I should be sad about it, but I'm not. The undercover assignment, my life before, are just smoky memories. I have one sole purpose now.

The nectar warms me from the inside as it flows through me, plunging me into the blissful state of mind where none of the ugly stuff in the world exists and living is about pleasure. Happiness centers around being taken to the height of ecstasy again and again. Something that Kane has mastered. He has mastered me.

It seems I've been here for years, but it has only been days. Living underground takes away any sense of time. I wake, sleep and breathe around the moments when he is with me. I can't remember a time when his strong hands hadn't touched me, when I wasn't firmly in his grasp being taken in every way. Always ending with me trembling from physical and emotional exhaustion.

Blake finishes with my hair. The red strands look like copper under the overhead lights. It's not a natural life. I should crave the sunlight and the fresh air, but there is only one thing I crave. Only one thing I need to survive.

"Darlin', I sure wish you'd eat more. You're losing too much weight. Mr. Freestone has asked me about it."

It's the first conversation about food that has caught my attention. I turn around on the chair. "Has he said something? Am I too skinny?" My frantic questions have only one purpose, and Blake knows that purpose.

He walks over with a buttered toast and hands it to me. "Don't you worry, darlin'. You haven't lost his interest." His mouth drops in a frown. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I wish he would. I wish he would grow tired of you." The concern in his voice should send a wave of fear through me, but all I can think about is the despair of having Kane grow tired of me.

I pull the long sleeves of the baby soft cotton t-shirt down past the leather cuffs to cover my hands. When he's not with me, my body shivers with cold, a chill that only he can relieve. The shirt is long enough to cover the tops of my thighs and the lacy thong panties, a new pair everyday because every other pair has been torn from my body.

I take a nibble of the toast. It nearly lodges in my throat. I'm lightheaded from lack of food, but it's a struggle to eat. It's a side effect of the nectar. Blake says everyone reacts differently. The nectar has become my life's blood just like Kane has become my oxygen. I wake thinking about both. I fall into the strange hallucinatory sleep thinking about both. Losing either is impossible to consider.

I walk across the room. The nectar makes the lush carpet beneath my bare feet feel like a sensual caress. I sit on the end of the bed between the two posts and pull my knees up against me to wait. "Was he nearly finished with his paperwork?" I ask, sounding like an impatient kid.

Blake cleans up the vanity and picks up the plate of food. "I don't know. Are you sure you don't want any more of this food?"

I shake my head and hug my knees tighter. I stare at the door as if that might help conjure him.

"It could be awhile. Why don't you take a nap?"

"No. I'll just wait."

Blake stands and stares at me with the mostly full plate in his hand.

"I'm fine. I don't need a nap. I need—" My throat tightens. The tears never seem to stop flowing. At the same time, I don't feel sad. I wipe at them with the back of my hand and then circle my arms around my knees again. "Please just go, Blake."

"Yes," he says quietly. "I'm going. Should I put on some music?"

My gaze is riveted to the door again. I vaguely hear the question. "Huh, yes sure. Something he likes. Pearl Jam or Guns 'N' Roses. Something he likes," I repeat.

"It could be a few hours," Blake says. They aren't words I want to hear. I ignore him.

The panel clicks open and music coasts into the room. I'm still staring at the door as Blake opens it and walks out.

Minutes or hours pass. I have no way of knowing. My pulse seems to beat out days like the hands on a clock. I'm hollow inside and grow more and more desperate with each thump of my heart. When the door opens, I'm not sure if it's real or an illusion. His tall, muscular physique casts a menacing shadow on the wall, but I'm still not convinced he's real. My arms are numb from holding my legs against me. It seems I've been waiting for an eternity.

Then his deep voice penetrates the music in the room.

"My Sweet Sin, I have ached to have you in my arms all day."

I drop my feet to the carpet and can barely feel my legs beneath me as I walk toward him. The tears are flowing as I collapse into his arms.

He's a virtual stranger. Everything I know about him tells me he is not a person to crave. Yet I can't get enough of him. It's partly the nectar but it's just as much him. Together, they are a thoroughly addictive combination.

"My Cinnamon Girl," he growls as he picks me up. Like a limp doll, I crumple against his chest. I feel as if gravity no longer affects me as he carries me across the room.

Kane lowers my feet to the carpet at the corner of the bed. He yanks my arms up and sweeps the shirt off of my body. The constant shiver from the cold is gone with him in the room. I'm shivering for a different reason now. His blue eyes rarely show emotion, but a hint of raw lust sparks through as he takes hold of my face and pushes his hungry mouth over mine.

As his kiss deepens, he reaches and loops his finger through first one and then the second loop on the wrist cuffs. He pulls his mouth away long enough to lift both of my arms above me with one quick motion. I hear the now familiar click of the rings connecting together. I'm bound to the bedpost with my wrists above my head. I'm in a daze as I think about him touching me, penetrating me, taking me.

I'm vaguely aware of clothes being tossed aside. Then his hard, naked body is pressed against me. His hands smooth along my belly, stopping to pinch and tease my nipples before making a long hot trail to the pulsating ache between my legs. It's a constant craving that can only be satisfied by him. His teeth bite lightly at the skin on my back as he pushes my feet wide. He drops to his knees behind me.

I bite my tongue to keep from crying out in excitement. I clench my fists in anticipation of his touch. It starts with his mouth as he places wet kisses on my ass. His tongue runs along the crack and continues down to my pussy. His licks are deep and wild. I quickly, sharply come against his mouth, but it's only the beginning.

The cuffs hold me up, keeping me from buckling at the knees as his finger impales me to reignite the ecstasy. The body shuddering waves start again and continue. The rest of the room falls away and it's just me, the massive bed and the man who brings me to orgasm again and again.

The music thrums from speakers overhead. The drums seem to line up with my heartbeat. Kane's naked chest presses against my back. His large hand combs through my hair. His fingers tangle in my hair. He pulls the strands, gently at first and then with a possessive grip that sends an excited tremor through me. Warm lubricant fills my ass before he pushes in a plug, this one bigger than the last.

"No, I want you," I say so quietly I can feel the words on my lips more than I can hear them.

He pulls my hair harder, dropping my head back farther. His mouth kisses my throat and then moves to my ear. "You're not ready, Sweet Sin."

"Please." I'm close to tears with wanting it. "Please. I'm ready. I want you."

A low growl tickles my neck as he bites my ear lobe. "It's too soon."

"Please," I whisper into the room. "Please. If it's what you want, then it's what I want."

Kane releases my hair and my hands follow. I whimper in disappointment, worried I've done something wrong. My legs are boneless, but before I puddle to the ground he has me in his arms again. He carries me around the bedpost, drops me in the center of the mattress and climbs on next to me. His jaw is tight and his ice blue gaze rakes over my naked body. The way he looks at me, as if I'm the most erotic thing he's ever seen, brings me close to orgasm again. I instinctively reach between my legs to keep the sensations going. He's pleased with my gesture. I take advantage of my moment of control and drop my thighs far apart.

Kane watches me tease my clit. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and his lash heavy lids drop low over his eyes.

"Please," I say again.

With lightning speed he yanks a pillow from the head of the bed. His strong hands grab me roughly, urgently as he flips me onto my stomach with the pillow beneath me like a wedge.

I'm as terrified as I am thrilled. I can't keep down my emotions and cry out before he has even positioned himself behind me. I clutch the comforter in my fingers as he takes hold of my hips, digging his fingers into my flesh as he pushes my knees wider on the bed. He yanks my ass high. His thumb digs into me, spreading the lube around the opening and deep inside.

His grasp on my hips tightens. I press my face into the comforter to stifle a cry as his cock teases the opening. He withdraws and my plea fills the room.

"Fuck, what have you done to me? What have you done?" His cock eases into me with slow precision. God, he's big. I release the breath I'm holding. The bed shakes and I'm sure I'll break apart into a million pieces once he withdraws. The deep, feral grunts coming from behind me bring me back to the edge.

His hand tangles in my hair again. He pulls my head back as he thrusts into me from behind. "Fuck," he growls. The sensation of him coming inside of me brings me quickly to orgasm.

He stays there, buried in me for a long time before dropping to his side on the mattress. I'm still clutching the comforter as he pulls me to him, my back against his chest. I've never felt as secure as I do in his arms.

We lay there for what seems like a normal moment, two people in a passionate relationship listening to each other's heartbeats, feeling each other's pulse.

"I know nothing about you." His deep voice flows over me like a soothing liquid. "Do you have family?"

It's the first personal question anyone has asked me since Yoli at the park. I briefly wonder how she is and what she is up to, then shift back to the question. I'd created a back story for Tawny, my undercover persona, but I can't remember much of it. My own story is dull enough that it wouldn't raise any red flags. "I have three brothers. They all teased me mercilessly. But they were also protective. My two older brothers were super athletes and excellent students. I always felt like I was scooting behind them, hidden in their vast glowing shadows, trying to get noticed. Do you have any siblings?" It's such a basic question, but it seems striking to think that a man like Kane has brothers and sisters, let alone any kind of family ties. In my mind, he's a loner, someone who has gotten through life virtually alone. I have no idea why I feel that about him but it's how I picture his life.

"No siblings," he says, filling in half the picture I already have of him.

His mouth presses against the back of my shoulder. "And your parents?"

He seems unusually curious about my past life. I dismiss it as just getting to know each other. Again, I somehow manage to convince myself that this is all normal, a perfectly average situation where I just happened to find a man who is so masterful in bed he can push me past any of the limits I had subconsciously set for myself.

"Only my mom is alive," I answer. "My dad died when I was fourteen." It's my standard response when someone asks me the question. I rarely allow details to come out because I like to keep them hidden. But between the drugging effects of the nectar and Kane's ability to make me feel and say things I normally don't, some of those painful details surface. My throat is tight as I speak. "We'd had a terrible argument that day. I'd only won two out of three of my track events. He was so busy telling me what I'd done wrong in the race I lost that he never found the time to congratulate me on the wins. It was like that with him. My brothers never lost. They were his champions. I was the little rusty haired girl who was born between his boys. He was leaving for the night shift at work. I took the time to stomp out to the front porch and let him know just how much I hated him before storming victoriously back inside. It rained that night and a semi truck lost control and cut his car in half. He died instantly carrying with him my last words. ‘I hate you, Dad'."

I have no idea why but I expect Kane to tighten his hold on me after my story, but there is no attempt at empathy. If anything, he loosens his embrace.

"How did you end up on the streets?"

It is the next logical question but it's jarring. I didn't stay in character and now I had to find a pathway back to Tawny. "I think that day changed me." That statement is not a lie. It helps me transition easily to the fantastical tale of my teenage downfall. "I started hanging out with the wrong crowds, took drugs, got arrested. My mom just couldn't control me. I hooked up with this older guy and—"

"Enough," he says sharply, startling me into silence. It seems he's grown bored of my story. Which is a good thing since it's all fabricated. But it's an opening for me to find out more about him. "What about your parents? Are they still alive?"

The bed moves as he rolls onto his back and swings his legs over the side. I've asked the wrong question.

"Stay tonight," I say. "I want you to stay." But I know I'll wake up alone. I close my eyes and concentrate on falling into a deep sleep so I won't feel him stand up from the bed. If I'm deep asleep, I won't hear the door when he leaves me alone.