It’s progress.
“Katia, what does being a Master mean?” I ask her as I sit on her bed and gently pet her hair.
“I don’t know, Master.” She answers so quietly I almost don’t hear her.
“What do you think it means?” I ask her.
“I feel so confused,” she admits.
“What if I told you you’ve only had one Master, Katia? What would you say then?”
She turns in the bed, finally looking me in the eyes. “I’d say a Master is a good thing. A Master is a savior.”
Her admission makes my heart hurt. I want to save her. And I will.
Chapter 24
Katia
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I look over at Isaac as he drives us down the road toward my family’s house in his spare Mazda CX-5, handling the car in a way that manages to turn me on, even when I’m on edge. Everything he does is just so sexy. His mannerisms, the way he talks, the way he moves. The way he owns me.
I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m letting this man meet my family after only knowing him for a few weeks.
10 days into being his slave… A man that owns me, mind, body and soul no less. It almost makes me laugh that we’re even coming with gifts, after I’ve avoided my family like a plague, all because he thinks meeting them will be for my own good. As much as I don’t like this, I have to trust him. And deep down, I know he’s right. I still love them. And I know they love me.
But that doesn’t change the fact that this entire situation is fucked.
My heart jumps into my chest as we turn onto Waverly Road, the familiar houses popping up in front of me, my childhood memories coming back to haunt me. I walked down this street the day they took me. I close my eyes, trying to block the visions, not wanting to get emotional. The last thing I need to do is break down in front of my parents with Isaac standing there. Who knows what might happen? I suck in several calming breaths before opening my eyes and focusing on the present as Isaac pulls up in front of my childhood home, parking the car next to the curb.
There it is. Home. I sit there for a moment staring at it. It looks just like I remember. A two story rustic brick home, with partial cream-colored vinyl siding and a cozy porch with several rocking chairs sitting out in front of it.
“You okay?” Isaac’s deep baritone penetrates my thoughts.
I look over at him, blinking rapidly as something pricks the back of my eyes. That better not be a fucking tear. I just need to hold it together for maybe an hour. Hopefully by then we’ll be long gone. “Yes,” I reply, trying to keep the dread out of my voice.
Isaac’s lips draw down into a point as he frowns, but I hardly notice it. Even with dressing down, in just blue jeans, a red sweater, and a worn brother leather coat, he looks hot. His hair is parted and slicked to the side, the scent of his masculine cologne filling the car.
I was surprised when he didn’t wear a suit, but when he brought out the Mazda for us to drive in, I figured he didn’t want to show up looking like he was drowning in cash.
“You will not lie to me, kitten,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
I lick my lips. I know I can’t argue with him. “I’m terrified,” I admit. “I really don’t want to do this.”
Isaac shakes his head. “I know you don’t. But you will. Do you understand?” His voice is firm, indicating that he’ll accept nothing less than my perfect obedience.
I hate it, but I force myself to nod, not trusting myself to speak.
Isaac stares at me, the intense look in his beautiful green eyes making me squirm. “You will engage in every conversation that’s initiated, and you will answer honestly. Even questions you find make you emotional. The only exception is questions about us.”
I hold in a groan. Oh God, why is he doing this to me? I can lie about the two of us, but everything else that makes the pit of my stomach churn is fair game? Does he want me to cry? 'Cause that’s exactly what’s going to happen. I know it. I’m tired of crying. I’ve never wanted to defy him more than in this moment. But I don’t. “Yes, Master,” I reply, barely able to keep the tremor out of my voice.
I can’t take staring into his stern gaze, so I look back over to my family home.
My mother refused to leave it after I was taken. She had deluded herself into thinking I’d come home somehow. Like one day I’d just appear for her, but if she moved, I wouldn’t be able to find my way back to her. Bless her heart.
Thinking about it causes tears to form in my eyes, and I fucking hate it. I hate that I feel so raw still. I’ve been on a roller coaster of emotions the past week, feeling as though I’m invincible and then completely raw and vulnerable. I don’t know what I am, but right now I know I don’t want to do this shit. It’s just too much, all at once. Why can’t Isaac see that?
“Text your mother,” Isaac says, taking my hand and gently kissing the back of it. His tone has softened, and he seems to recognize how terrified I am. But he’s still going to make me go in there when I don’t want to. “You’re going to be perfect for me, kitten,” he reassures me in an attempt to boost my confidence, and giving my hand a slight squeeze. “Trust me, you can do this. You will do this.”
I want to tell him no, tell him that I can’t do this. I don’t want to have to face my mother, to have to be reminded of the pain I caused her. But looking at Isaac, I know there's only one answer he’ll accept. “Yes, Master,” I whisper.
“Katia!” As soon as I walk through the door, my mother is pulling me into her arms, gripping me into a fierce bear hug. I’m already filled with anxiety, so I can hardly breathe as she squeezes me and kisses me, telling me she loves me and how much she’s missed me over and over.
“I’ve missed you so much, baby!” she cries with tears in her eyes, finally pulling back and allowing me to breathe, giving me a chance to look at her. She looks really nice, dressed up in a tweed skirt suit with heavy makeup on, something that is totally unlike her. I don’t remember her this way at all. She always had pajamas on for most of the day with her hair in a messy bun during the holidays. It was typically even worse on Christmas Day, when she’d have stayed up the whole night before wrapping presents and baking treats for the family.
Today, she looks beautiful.
“I missed you too, Mom,” I say, my voice quavering from emotion.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, I tell myself over and over in a litany meant to strengthen me, knowing that if the first tears fall that I’ll turn into a blubbering mess. I don’t know how I can’t do anything but break down, I feel too weak.
Isaac's words come back to me in that moment. You’re going to be perfect for me, kitten. As if he knew I was thinking about him, I feel a gentle squeeze on my left hand and I look over to see Isaac gazing at me with strength and confidence in his eyes.
My mom freezes as her eyes fall on Isaac, her jaw going slack as if she’s just now noticing he was there. “Well,” she says, her voice filled with wonder, her eyes wide with shock, “who is this handsome young man?”