“You know why.”

Faith got him some water. He drank it down, his hands shaking like an old man’s. Her eyes widened when she noticed his wrists. The ropes had cut into him when he’d struggled, rubbing them raw. When the water was gone, he handed the glass back to her.

“More?”

He shook his head. “I broke your trust.”

Compared to the scene before her, last night was barely anything now. A small blip. A misunderstanding. Like a date that hadn’t gone well.

“What can I do? This is bad. You need a doctor.”

“No doctors!” his voice cracked. She refilled his glass with more water.

“What can I do?” She wouldn’t leave him in this state.

“I usually keep a backup medical kit down here, but I put it back in the den earlier… next to the bookcase.”

It didn’t take long to find the medical bag. She peeked inside to make sure she had the right one and rushed back to the dungeon. Faith had just reached the door again when she heard him cry out.

He’d managed to make it into the bathroom to take a shower, dragging a trail of blood over the concrete and carpet. The trail ended at the base of the tub. Faith sat on the closed toilet seat, staring at the floor, trying to hold herself together until the water stopped.

When he shut it off, he said, “Take several towels, and lay a couple over the table.”

It was a leather table with metal rings around the sides to loop ropes or cuffs through. The ropes still hung from the rings.

“Yes, Master.”

She was surprised to hear herself say it. All she wanted to do was please him and ease his suffering. This was more than a gesture, more than an apology. To do something like this… his own mental anguish had to match hers. Regret and agony balanced the scale between them even if he couldn’t believe in such miracles.

“Master?” she said at the door.

“Yes, Faith?”

“If I’d begged you to stop, would you have?”

“Yes.”

He could be lying, but with the shattered way the word came out, she knew he wasn’t.

“It’s not your fault. I knew. I should have stopped.”

She went to the other room and laid out the towels as he’d asked. He came in a few moments later, still dripping, naked and beautiful—at least from the front. The marble perfection of his chest hid the macabre truth of his back.

He lay on his stomach and took several deep breaths.

Faith became aware of the music again. The music that frightened her the night before was haunting and sad and lonely now.

Leo guided her through sterilizing his wounds and applying the bandages. She worked as quickly as she could, bracing herself against his cries of pain as he gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles going white each time. Tears blinded her eyes as she worked. When it was done, he resembled a mummy.