Barrons stepped in. He swept a gaze from my head to my feet, slowly. His face tightened, then he worked his way back up, just as slowly. I guess he didn’t like my clothes. He rarely does. Left to my own devices, I dress too happy to suit his tastes. Ms. Rainbow and Mr. Night. That’s what we look like walking around together.

To defuse any tension left over from last night, I offered him a smile, and a friendly, “Hey,” letting him know I was willing to start this night off fresh, and hoped he was, too.

I sensed his violence a split second before he attacked me, and then it was too late. He slammed the door behind him. Dead bolts ratcheted into place.

“Tell me every detail of the last time you saw the Sinsar Dubh.”

Voice compacted my body in a head-to-toe vise, and squeezed brutally. Shit, shit, shit.

I doubled over, the breath slammed out of me. A legion of voices rebounded in the room, careening off the walls, intensifying as they zoomed left and right, up and down, then through me, burrowing into my skin, rearranging things in my head, making my mind his. Dominating. Seducing. Selling me the lie that his will was mine, and I lived to obey it.

Sweat beaded on my brow and upper lip, and slicked my palms. The harder I tried to fight the compulsion, the less possible it was to inflate my lungs, to move any part of my body at all. A paper doll, I hung, folded, limp, spineless. And like a paper doll, he could tear me in half, if he wanted to.

“Stop fighting me, Ms. Lane, and it’ll go easier. Unless you enjoy the pain.”

In my mind I spewed a geyser of curses, but not a word came out. I had no breath to fuel it. He’d topped the level he’d used on me last night—the level of proficiency he’d said the Lord Master had achieved—and he’d done it with a voice of silk. Like the difference between other men’s motorcycles and his, Barrons walks softly—but he carries the biggest stick I’ve ever seen.

“Nice tan, Ms. Lane. How’s V’lane? Did you have a good time today? I take you to graveyards, but he takes you to the beach—is that what our problem is? Our little dates aren’t good enough for you? Does he romance you? Feed you all those pretty lies you’re so hungry for? I’ve been neglecting you lately. I’ll be remedying that. Sit. Over there.” He pointed to a chair near the fire.