“Just listen to me, Lucretia,” he said angrily from his end of the wireless connection. “I know that you’re concerned. Hell, I even know that you’ve been trying to sort all this out, wrestling with your conscience, but you can’t have it both ways. You either trust me or you don’t.”

“I trust you,” she said, her heart thumping with dread as she imagined his handsome face, remembered their first kiss, a gentle, tender meeting of lips that had promised so much more. They’d been standing on the back porch of Wagner House, in the dusk while rain poured from the dark heavens. Some people claimed the house was haunted; she thought of it as magical. The only light had been the strands of tiny Christmas lights strung over the building. Each bulb seemed a miniature candle, glowing softly in the December night. She remembered the smell of the rain on his skin, the tingle of her nerves as he’d brushed his mouth over hers so tenderly.

She’d ached to give herself to him and he’d sensed it.

Hours later, in her room, they’d made love, over and over again, and she’d felt a blending of her soul to his.

And now he was ending it?

“I don’t understand,” she said weakly, and they both knew it was a lie. “If I can’t have absolute faith—”

“You mean power, right?” she said, finding some of her old spunk. “And obedience. Blind obedience.”

“Faith,” he said in a soft voice that reminded her of his breath whispering over her ears, his lips working magic on her naked body. How he could make her sweat and tingle all at once…

How willingly she’d lain beneath him, staring in wonder at the power of his body as he raised himself on his elbows and kissed her nipples. She’d watched as their bodies had moved, his cock sliding in and out of her.

Sometimes he’d stop for a heartbeat, pull out and flip her over, only to take her from behind more forcefully. Often he would nip at her, biting a bit, leaving the sheerest of impressions upon her neck, or breast or buttocks, and she’d spend the week being reminded of their long, sensual session.

“I said I trust you.”

“But I can’t trust you. That’s the thing. We both know what you did, Lucretia. How you betrayed me. I know you were confused. Frightened. But you should have come to me instead of going outside the circle.”

“Please.”

“It’s over.” The words rang in her ear. Hard. Final.

“No, I’m sorry, I should have—”

“There are lots of things you should have done. Could have done, but it’s too late. You know it.”

“No! I can’t believe—”