Suzette hopped in the front, smoothing her uniform. Franco climbed into the driver’s seat and the car settled with his bulk. His crisp, black suit framed muscles and my hope of running dwindled.

The car started; the loud purr vibrated in my teeth. I curled smaller as Franco put the vehicle into gear and rolled smoothly into motion. The crunching of gravel sounded loud and the three-horse fountain disappeared as we drove away.

The further we travelled, the more I freaked. This could go terribly wrong, but if it worked, I’d never see Q again. Never hear his voice or smell his unique sent. Something deep inside panged uncomfortably. I hated he owned two of my senses—possibly even three. He was a master at coercing my body’s needs, sacrificing my mind for erotic pleasure. I’d had enough of betrayal from my own flesh.

Every roll of tyres brought a cocktail of eagerness and disappointment. My life would belong to me again. My body would return to being dormant, hiding its secret desires. But I want that! Q was a monster in human clothing—even he knew it, judging by his song choice. If he let a man rape me with a knife handle, who knew what he’d do next.

My hands curled with fury. I couldn’t afford to feel anything but hatred for Q. Suzette was wrong—I didn’t feel any more than repulsion. Hopefully, over time, my senses would belong to me again. I would forget about this nightmare.

Excitement bubbled beneath layers of apprehension as we drove in silence away from hell, toward salvation.

Suzette and Franco didn’t talk and I breathed as quiet and shallow as possible. It was odd to run with no belongings. How far would I get without money, credit cards, or a passport?

My passport and purse were in the hotel in Cancun. Then again, the hotel probably checked us out when we never returned. Did Brax go back? I was heading home, and refused to entertain the thought he might be gone. I needed him alive. He was my end goal. If I didn’t have him, who was I running back to?

You’re leaving a life of overwhelming senses for comfort, Tess.

The thought rocked my soul. While being Q’s prisoner, I’d never been so alive. Sure, he was a bastard, and the things he did weren’t legal, but at the same time he made me live.

I brought the nightmare on myself with unwholesome thoughts, but Q showed me the life I lived with Brax wasn’t fully… complete. Brax treated me with utmost care, but never made me vibrant.

On the floor of a car, escaping from my kidnapper, I re-evaluated my entire life. I’d lived in denial for so long, it came naturally. I loved Brax, I couldn’t deny that. But my love skirted around sibling love. Friendship love. A love that would never die, but would never consume me either. I loved Brax because he took me in. He wanted me and I settled, rather than have the guts to find a man who made my soul sing.

Guilt crushed, pressing me against the floor. By lying to myself, I hurt Brax so much. A few tears dribbled and I fought the urge to sniff. One thing I knew, if he still lived, I’d make it a lifelong mission to make it up to him. I’d be the princess he always wanted, and take care of him, regardless if he couldn’t save me in Mexico.

Suzette and Franco started chatting aimlessly about the weather, and I forced myself to listen, pushing away debilitating thoughts. I couldn’t afford to think about sad things. I needed to be ready to run.

Through the window, hedges and shadowy trees flickered past, rolling hills and farm land. So quaint and picture perfect, it was hard to believe Q lived amongst perfect innocence and followed such darkness.

The twists and turns of the tiny country lanes made nausea swell and I closed my eyes.

I didn’t know how long it took, maybe twenty minutes, before the car slowed. Suzette asked, “Can you pull up on Rue La Belle? I won’t be long.”

Franco grunted in acknowledgement, and after a few turns, we entered a bustling township. Sounds of chattering voices and traffic thrilled me. So close to being free.

I dared open my eyes. Pedestrians skirted the car, and cute ancient buildings hovered in French glory.

Suzette climbed out. “Merci, Franco, à plus tard.” I’ll see you soon.

“I’ll be back at the car in ten minutes.” His voice rasped. I couldn’t believe my eyes as Franco locked the door and strode off, swallowed immediately by the bustling crowd.

I lay on the floor, sucking greedy breaths in the empty car. I was alone!

Wait before you run.

My body shook with the need to flee, but I waited an agonising minute. Slowly, I unfolded from the floor, reaching to unlock the door. I tried to clamber out quickly, but my legs cramped and I sprawled in the path of an elderly woman. Pretty cobblestones bit my ass as I looked up.

She frowned, hoisting her bag higher on her shoulder. “Excusez-moi,” she said, inching around, continuing on her way.

I bounced upright, commanding my limbs to un-atrophy so I could run.

The busy street looked the epitome of France. Quaint shop signs dangled in front of wonky buildings with flower baskets and fresh fruit in bushels looking waxy and delicious in the winter sun. Everything was written in French, and I knew I’d be lost within a moment. Where the hell was this place? Were we close to Paris?

I blinked in wonderment. I would never take freedom for granted again. After being caged for weeks, the breeze on my skin felt foreign; the sun an old missed friend. My heart flew. I escaped.

I didn’t know which way Suzette or Franco went, so kept my eyes trained on the crowd, dashing fugitively across the road to the green grocer.

“Bonjour, ma belle,” an elderly man said, tilting his head as I darted past. Rows upon rows of food made my mouth water. Everything was a burst of sensation, colour—a marvel to my senses.

Being in a crowd liberated and intoxicated. I never realised how much I needed to be a part of something. Sure, insecurities of being unwanted stemmed from lack of parental love, but up till now, I never evaluated how much I thrived at university. I had friends. Good friends.

My eyes pricked remembering Fiona, Marion, and Stacey. Women who I’d studied with and sketched the most far out buildings we could imagine. Tree houses. Underwater mansions. And yet, they didn’t know me. I never told them what I wished Brax would do. Even when we shared kinky conversation, I never opened up and admitted I wanted to be a submissive, just for one night.

My heart tripped. What would they say if they knew what happened? Would they understand how disobedient my body had been? How the sexual tension, the unwanted boiling, crippling need inside made me wet for a man I hated?