I just shrug but she’s not about to let it go. “For real, Logan. I want to know more about you. Like, where did you grow up? You never talk about your family.”
I shrug again. “It’s cause I don’t have any. Dad was a deadbeat. Walked out on my mom when I was too young to remember. We were poor as f— We were poor. My mom tried for as long as she could but…”
I look up into Daphne’s compassionate amber eyes. “She wasn’t like you. She never had your kind of strength. The world was too much for her. She could barely take care of herself, much less me. So I mostly raised myself till she decided to check out.”
I can tell by the confusion in her eyes she’s not translating my euphemism. “She committed suicide.”
Daphne’s hand shoots across the table and grabs mine. “How old were you?” she whispers.
I shrug but don’t pull my hand away from hers. I don’t know why. I’d pull away from anybody else. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe it’s because Daphne didn’t have much of a childhood either. Her parents were just selfish in different ways, her dad at least, and her mom too sick to take care of her. As far as I can see, she raised herself as much as I did—she just did a fucking better job of it than me.
“I was twelve.”
“Logan.”
“Look, it’s no big deal.” I try to pull my hand away now but she just clenches tighter.
“Somebody wise once told me it’s okay to be sad.”
“Oh yeah? Sounds like a real wise ass.”
“He has his moments.” She smiles at me and it’s so genuine and from her heart it hits me straight in my gut.
Where have you been my whole life? What I say out loud is, though, “Wanna go grab dessert from that little pastry place on 4th street?”
She beams at me. “I’d love to.”
When we stand up, she’s still holding my hand.
Eight
Present Day
Logan
The cameras pick up the approach of Daphne’s taxi two hundred feet from the gates of the castle. I press the button to open them and sit with my fingers loosely threaded together as the car creeps up the long drive. My heart jolts when I catch a glimpse of Daphne’s dark head. I hate myself for missing her, but I did. This girl has always been under my skin, in my blood.
I spin in my chair away from the cameras, rising and stretching with eyes closed. Calm. Control.
This time it’ll be different. I have her stay planned down to the hour. Her tasks and trials, the way she’ll serve me. My own version of the twelve labors of Hercules, tailored to train her to my whims.
I just can’t let myself feel. The softness of her skin, her honeyed scent, the golden glint in her green eyes—nothing will move me. I am the Master. She is mine. Even when others in her life tried to steal her, she returns to me.
I turn back to the cameras. The cab is gone, leaving Daphne and her sole suitcase. Her hair blows in the wind. She makes her way to the door, her hips swaying with unconscious grace.
My heart, the stupid, weak organ, stutters. She’s returned to me.
Maybe it can be different, I think as she stands on the stoop, reaching for the iron knocker with trepidation in her eyes. Maybe we can start over.
Then she pulls out her phone, stepping away from the stone wall to get service. The fucking engagement ring glitters on her finger as she raises the cell to her ear.
What the fuck? She’s still wearing Adam’s mark. Is she calling him?
Déjà vu. A scarlet curtain falls. The mindless rage rising.
I find myself at the front door, a hand on the latch.
No! Calm. Control.
This time it will be different. I’ll stay in control. And I won’t let myself feel.
I’ll be the soulless monster she believes me to be.
Daphne
“Wait, wha—!” But Logan doesn’t wait or explain as he hoists me up over his massive shoulder, his arm a bar across the back of my legs, locking me in place. “Logan!”
I’ve only just barely gotten in the door of his castle and this is what he pulls.
“Don’t call me that,” he growls. “Call me Beast or Master because that’s all I am to you now.”
“Son of a bit—”
I yelp at the sharp smack that earns me across my ass that’s still sore from our last session. “No more spanking. I can’t handle any more. I’ve barely been able to sit down. Please.”
“Please, what?” he demands as he walks down the stairwell to the basement, not winded or off balance by my weight in the slightest bit.
I grind my teeth together but my ass really is too sore for any more abuse. “Please, Master.” Alright, so that Master might have been dripping with sarcasm. And he doesn’t miss that because it earns me another sharp smack on the ass.
I screech but then hurriedly squeak out, “Yes, Master!”
“That’s better.” I can hear the smile in his voice, the smug bastard.
I’m so off-kilter, I can barely take in my surroundings. But I still recognize it when he takes me straight to the dungeon. Because of course he does. My entire stay is probably going to be in this damn place. The stone walls, the familiar musty smell that I’ve missed even though I’ve been away from it for such a short time… Why am I excited instead of scared?
Because Logan is Master, a voice whispers from deep within.
I glance around at the cross set up against the wall, all sorts of implements hanging here and there. A bench I think is meant for...for spanking. And a table that he walks straight over to and deposits me on.
“Take off your clothes.”
I bite my lip and hazard a glance at Logan. His face is cold, devoid of emotion. I glare at him and do as he says. I pull off my shirt and bra quickly and efficiently. It’s not a strip tease. I kick off my jeans and leave them in a pile at my feet. The same with my underwear.
I’m not quite sure how I manage to stand, back straight, completely naked in front of him, but I do. He doesn’t look down at my body. Doesn’t even peek.
“Get on the table.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. My heart starts racing a hundred miles an hour but I hop up on the table and lay down.
There are cuffs at the wrist and ankles that Logan begins to swiftly attach to me, tying me down.
And...and...I- I-
I’m thrilled.
I lay my head back and close my eyes as I silently admit to myself what I’ll never ever say out loud. I’m back where I belong. My toes flex in anticipation. I have absolutely no idea what Logan, what my Master, will do to me.
But I trust him. This is the boy who noticed I was lonely and took me for sandwiches all those years ago. And the man who demands things of my body I never knew I had to give. I’ve never felt more alive or in my body than right this second.
“Look at you,” Logan croons, the first time his voice has softened even the slightest bit since I’ve arrived. “Your body is quivering for my touch. You want this, don’t you?” He skims his fingers up my thigh. “You want this bad.”
I can’t help quivering in response and I try to stop my gasp but don’t manage in time.