Loren thrusts into my mouth again, and then Mr. Bordeaux grunts, both hands gouging Loren’s hips as he groans a series of unintelligible cries. He empties into his lover, and that sends Loren over the edge. His release is a fountain of completion, intense and prolonged from his master’s game of stopping and starting. I choke and cough as his climax hits the back of my throat, but afterward…

Loren smiles down at me, skin bathed in sweat, gray eyes brimming with gratitude, and I can’t find an iota in me that regrets being part of his pleasure.

13

Perhaps last night was an appropriate send-off, a depraved bon voyage for a virgin queen in metaphorical chains. Or maybe I’ve been used and degraded to the point where the after-dinner affair inside that bedroom seems normal.

Either way, I’m excited to put Mr. Bordeaux and his esoteric tastes behind me. I spend my last moments under his rule saying goodbye to Loren, since his master is absent when the clock strikes the noon hour. Loren thanks me for a night he’ll never forget, and then he wishes me luck.

Unlike last month, I’m alone, nervous energy infusing my steps as I approach the library. The door stands open—an unspoken invite to breach the threshold and give myself over to a new set of expectations, a new set of rules, a new man.

I’ve barely stepped inside the library when Faye wraps her arms around me. “I’m so glad to see you.” She veers back and studies my face. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” I give her a squeeze before we break apart. “Where’s Elise?” I search the room, my gaze touching on the dark-haired man standing to the right of us, but my lady is notably absent. “Is she okay?”

Because she’d be here if she were.

“She’s fine.” Faye averts her attention to the floor.

“Faye, what’s wrong?” A cold fist of worry clenches my gut.

“She’s been…ill for the past few days, but she’s okay.”

She’s not telling me everything. On the cusp of panic, I glance at Landon for an explanation.

“Elise is okay.” He closes the distance and takes me by the arm, and I flinch from his touch.

It’s becoming an ingrained reflex when stumbling blindly into new territory. “I-I’m sorry.” Out of habit, I almost kneel at his feet.

“You’re not in Heath’s house anymore,” he reminds me with a gentle tug on my arm. “Come sit down.”

I follow him to the same grouping of chairs Liam and I used during our chess games, and we settle across from each other. Faye takes a chair to my left.

“She’s really okay?” I direct the question at Landon.