She walks toward me, and I reach for her as soon as she’s within arm’s length. She feels disturbingly light as I tug her down to my lap, the shadows under her eyes betraying her exhaustion.

She’s completely worn out, and I don’t know what to do. The therapist I brought to the estate three weeks ago appears to be useless, and Nora refuses to take the anti-anxiety meds the doctor prescribed for her. I could force her, of course, but I distrust those pills myself. The last thing I want is to get Nora hooked on them.

The only thing that seems to help her—temporarily, at least—is an emotional release achieved through sexual pain. It’s something she requires now, something she begs for nearly every night.

My pet has become as addicted to receiving pain as I am to giving it—and that development both pleases and devastates me.

“You barely ate again,” I say softly, settling her more comfortably on my knees. Reaching up, I free her hair from the clip holding it up, and watch the dark mass spill down her back in a thick, glossy stream. “Why, baby? Is there something wrong with Ana’s cooking?”

“What? No—” she begins saying, but then she corrects herself. “Well, maybe. I just didn’t like the soup today. It was too rich.”

“I’ll ask Ana not to make it in the future, then.” I distinctly remember Nora eating the soup and loving it before, but I decide against reminding her of that. I don’t care what she eats, as long as she stays healthy.

“Just please don’t tell her that I complained.” Nora’s gaze fills with worry. “I wouldn’t want her to be offended.”

“Of course.” A smile tugs at my lips. “I’ll take your secret to the grave, I promise.”

An answering smile appears on her face, lighting up her features, and I feel much of the lingering tension between us dissipating. “Thank you,” she whispers, staring at me. Then, placing one small hand on my shoulder and another on the back of my neck, she closes her eyes and presses her soft lips to mine.

I inhale sharply, my body tightening with instant lust. Her breath is sweet and minty, her slight weight warm in my arms. I can feel her slender fingers on my skin, smell her delicate scent, and my spine prickles with growing hunger, my cock hardening against the curve of her ass.

This time, though, the hunger doesn’t come with the need to hurt her. Instead, it’s tinged with tenderness. The darker impulses are there, but they’re overshadowed by my stark awareness of her fragility. Tonight, more than ever, I want to protect her, heal her from the wounds she should’ve never sustained. I want to be her hero, her savior.

For just one night, I want to be the husband of her dreams.

Closing my eyes, I focus on her taste, on the way her breathing changes as I deepen the kiss. The way her head falls back and her body melts against mine, her fingernails gently scratching at my scalp as her hand slides into my hair. She’s my world, my everything, and I want her so much I ache with it.