Prologue
THE BEAST LOOMS OVER ME, half in shadow. In the dark, the scarred skin around his mask disappears. When he turns his head I get a sense of deja vu, like I know him from somewhere—
“Go to the bed and lie down, face up,” he demands.
I swallow. My hands come up automatically to cover my breasts. “Ah ah,” he catches my wrists and moves them apart, baring my chest to his gaze. My heart is pounding, overwhelmed. I’m so vulnerable right now.
Still holding my wrists, he backs me to the bed. When he lets go, I scramble up and lay back. Maybe if I obey him, I won’t have to worry. I won’t have to think. Let go and be mine, he said earlier. But can I really do that? This man is my enemy.
And yet, when I see him rise after bending to grab something at the base of the bed, I scuttle to the headboard and plant myself there, my knees drawn up to my chest.
“You want to tie me up?” I squeak. “Again?”
He tosses the chain onto the bed. The silver length has a leather cuff on the end. I clutch my wrist.
His gaze never leaving mine, he heads to the foot of the bed, leans down, and reveals a second restraint. There’s one at each corner of the bed. Holy—
He ends up beside me again, unbuckling the leather cuff for my left wrist.
“Submit, Daphne.”
Run. Any sane woman would run. I’m out of my mind, giving into this…craving this. It’s wrong. All of this, so so wrong. I could tell myself I have no choice, but it’s not true.
I could’ve protested when he announced it was time for my punishment, and he would’ve backed down, tucked me into bed and coddled me like an invalid. It was my curiosity as much as his depravity spurring us forward. I don’t want to stop. I’m in too deep.
So I scoot down and lie back. After a pause, I slowly spread my arms and legs. The ultimate submission. That fact that the position makes my pussy throb has nothing to do with it. How long will I keep lying to myself about why I’m really staying?
“Good girl,” he murmurs, taking my left arm and securing the cuff around my wrist. “Flex your fingers for me?” I do and he strokes the tips. His dark eyes bore into mine and my core clenches. He only has to touch my fingertips to turn me on.
“Too tight?” he asks. My breath hitches and I shake my head. His cheek curls—another smile!—and he heads down to cuff my feet.
“You’re being so good, Daphne. You know what that means?”
“What?” My voice is husky. The sound of it surprises me—I’ve turned into a sexpot. I’ve never felt like this before, but this moment is one of many firsts. He’s still dressed like always, but this time, I’m unafraid as he strips me bare. Lying down and letting him restrain me with an excited willingness.
I’ve never been more turned on. My nipples are crinkled peaks, begging for attention.
“It means you get a reward.” He turns and walks away, leaving me helpless and bound. My arms are stretched over my head, my legs able to bend a little but not move much more than that. What is he going to do to me?
When he returns, I’m almost panting, my heart fluttering in the cage of my chest like a captured bird. But my nipples are harder than ever. And my pussy aches...
“Shhhh.” He lays a large hand on my chest, splayed over my breastbone. “Calm, Daphne. I won’t hurt you.” A quirk of his lips, a crooked smile. “At least, not more than you like. Because you like some pain, don’t you, kitten?”
He leans in and breathes in my ear, drenching my sex with his every word. “There’s so much for us to explore. So many combinations of pain and pleasure. So many ways to make you feel alive...” He lowers himself down and I let my head fall back. I can’t fight anymore. When his tongue finally touches me, I give in completely.
One
Daphne
I scrub my eyes as I jog up the stairs after another exhaustive session down in the lab. Still no breakthroughs.
I circle around to my desk. Maybe if I just resequence the—
But then I freeze.
A single red rose is waiting for me on my computer keyboard. I approach my desk carefully, looking around.
But there’s no one in this part of the building. No secretary or gatekeeper to witness a random rose delivery. Nothing but the normal hum of machines from the offices down the hall.
Except for the rose.
My desk looks the same—stacks of paper, lab reports in white binders, budget reports in green ones. My stomach gives a growl. I haven’t eaten anything but a granola bar at some point during the night. What time is it? I’ve been down in the lab for who knows how long. It’s easy to lose track of time down there.
My hunger can wait. I circle my desk and settle into my chair, leaning down to study the rose as if it’s something other than a pretty blossom—something dangerous, like a bomb.
But it’s just a rose. There’s no note, no hint of who sent it.
Just like last year, and the year before, and every year since my eighteenth birthday.
I roll the stem between my thumb and forefinger. When I can’t wait any longer, I bring the bright red bloom to my face and drink in the sweet perfume.
Most store-bought roses have no scent. They’ve been bred over the years for appearance instead of fragrance. But this rose is different.
This rose grew in a garden.
“Rosa x hybrida,” I murmur the Latin name. The thick rosette petals are like a fancy lady’s ball gown and petticoats. Definitely a hybrid bloom.
“Daphne?” my assistant Rachel calls.
“In here,” I call, without pulling the rose from my face.
“How did I know I’d find you here or down in your hermit hole?” Rachel walks in, her eyes glued to her tablet. In her white skirt suit with her blonde hair in an elegant chignon, she looks more like a CEO than I do. The pen tucked behind her ear only makes her more official.
“Okay, because I know you won’t let it rest till I update you, I sent the board the updated merger packet, but I still need—” She finally looks up and stops talking when she sees me pressing the rose to my face. “Is that…?”
I nod.
Her posture softens, her face registering sympathy. She’s one of the few people who knows about the mysterious yearly rose delivery and the event it marks. “Oh, Daphne. Is it today? I thought it was last week.”
“No, you’re right, it was Wednesday. You arranged the bouquet to be delivered, right?” I must look ridiculous, sitting at my desk in my lab coat, sniffing a rose. I briskly stack a few papers on my desk.
Rachel nods. “A dozen white roses. I had them delivered directly to Thornhill. Are you going to visit?”
“Not this year.” It hurts to even say it. Who doesn’t have time to go visit their own mother’s grave? I tap the desk, my fingers itching to pick up the rose again. I grab a tiny origami swan off my desk instead—a gift from one of the many Battleman’s patients who are counting on my research.
“I don’t have time. I would’ve gone Wednesday, but I had to prepare for the meeting with the board. I’m already on thin ice with them.”
Not that the meeting went well.