I’d gone my teenage years with an occasional fumble from an eager boy who’d earned my interest to get close enough to touch. And then, I’d entered womanhood with a brutal rape that’d forever tarnished sex. Everything about men and women coupling was sick and filthy and wrong.

No part of me, under any circumstance, wanted to be touched there. Not by Mr. Prest, not by Master A, and certainly not by any of his dastardly friends.

I hated him for taking liberties. I didn’t want my skin to be alive. I didn’t want my senses to be alive.

I wanted to be numb.

Aloof.

And the audacity of Mr. Prest to make me notice things again, for my heart to beat and my taste buds to fire—it wasn’t fair.

But at least, my body was as repulsed by him as any other man.

I didn’t feel a quickening in my belly. My pussy didn’t clench; my blood didn’t heat. My spirit might hold on, refusing to break, but Master A had broken my body.

Sex was revolting.

Sex was sickening.

Sex was not something I would ever grow to love.

I was sure of it.

It didn’t stop Mr. Prest from brushing his fingertip between my legs. His voice stayed heavy and low. “I’m used to silence, silent one. But you’re not very good at hiding your thoughts from your eyes.” Pulling away, he brushed my chin with his knuckles. “Want me to prove it? I know that you hate me touching you, and you can’t stop the loathing inside you.”

His eyes flickered to Master A as his head bowed close again. He gave the impression that we whispered secrets to each other. “He doesn’t see you like I do. He doesn’t hear you like I do.”

Master A shot upright, clearly ready for this meeting to be over. “I think we’ve covered the finer details. The rest can be done when you drop the contract off for final signature.”

Mr. Prest understood the underlying message.

Leave.

Leaning away from me, he grinned. “Want your slave back so soon?” He patted my leg, antagonising him. “I don’t think you understand the concept of sharing, Alrik.”

I bristled.

I’m not some toy to borrow.

I wasn’t a novelty or tatty doll to play with on a whim then dismember when boredom replaced fascination.

I was in two minds. Mr. Prest had kept my heart catapulting like some renegade siege with his gentle touches and soft commands. I feared him more than I feared Master A. I wanted him gone. Immediately. But a large part of me wanted to continue being petted because it’d been so long since anyone had. I wanted him to free me.

However, I never got what I wanted.

Master A inched closer, glowering at Mr. Prest’s hand on my thigh. “Do you like his touch better than mine, Pim?” His voice was a hazardous rumble. “I’d advise you say you prefer me over this stranger.”

He stared.

I stared.

No reply.

He didn’t deserve to know, even if I did want to speak. I would never prefer him. I wanted to bury his ashes and get every dog in the neighbourhood to piss on his grave. In that respect, yes, I vastly preferred Mr. Prest’s touch, even if he stole rather than requested.

Master A’s temper swirled as silence lingered. “There’s been enough sharing for one night. Time to remember who your real master is. What do you think of that, my sweet Pim?”

Real master.

That meant kicks and whips and chains.

I bowed my head, keeping my face covered.

You told me to obey him.

Anger churned in my chest because I knew no matter what happened in their business agreement, I would be in a world of pain the moment the door closed on Mr. Prest.

Wobbling a little from too many shots of bourbon, Master A stomped from the lounge toward the front foyer.

My heart clicked ‘start’ on a stopwatch, mourning the swiftly ticking seconds before I was hurt again.

One,

two,

three,

four.

Please, don’t let me endure anymore.

Master A bellowed, “Leave, Mr. Prest. Our business is over. Pim and I need to have a little chat.” Glaring over his shoulder, he waited none too subtly to kick Mr. Prest out, all while his gaze hammered knives into my chest.

Mr. Prest’s fingers tightened on my leg, digging perfectly trimmed nails into my skirt. He held the pressure for a second too long, holding his breath.

I daren’t look up. Even though I knew he wanted me to.

He’d yanked more answers from me without speaking than Master A had managed in two years. We had an unspoken understanding between us. A chemistry recognising our connecting similarities. What made us notice each other? Why did I sense as if I could know him…

I hate that you can see my secrets.

But in return, I see some of yours.

His talk of business and weapons weren’t who he was at heart. Such talk was cobwebs and prisms, keeping the truth hidden.

How I knew that, I didn’t know. How he could read me, I didn’t understand.

And it terrified me as much as it intrigued me.

“Return to your master, silent one. I hope to see you again.”

You can’t go.

I…

He released me as he stood. With half a smile, he moved sleek and sedately toward the exit where Master A paced with his arms crossed. I’d never seen him so angry with another man for touching me.

“Come here, Pim.” Master A snapped his fingers, tugging the invisible cord around my throat.

Instantly, I stood on creaking bones, keeping my chin down in taught respect. Only utmost servitude would save me tonight.