Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I pause, my back to him. "I know why she's emerged," I say softly. "To protect us. But that's the problem, don't you see? What Mads understood---what I understand now---is that sometimes the most loving thing you can do is leave."
I just don't know if I'm strong enough to do it without her.
I pull the door open and step into the hallway, the cool air washing over my flushed face. Behind me, I hear Dr. Ezra stand, the leather of his chair creaking in protest.
"Same time next week?" he asks.
I don't answer. I just keep walking, my heartbeat thundering in my ears, drowning out the storm.
In my mind, a voice that isn't mine whispers: You can't run from me. I live inside you.
And for the first time, I'm not sure if it's Mads or Red---or some part of me I've never acknowledged.
I just know I need to find Domhnall. I need his hands on me, around me, inside me. I need the sweet oblivion only he can give me---the perfect punishment for all my sins.
Because if I can't outrun what lives in my head, maybe I can burn it out instead.
TWENTY-SIX
DOMHNALL
I’m loosening my tie the second I step inside the house, the silence hitting me like a physical force. Usually when I get home, Anna’s playing music—something gentle, classical, or those indie folk singers she’s discovered since coming back to me. The house breathes differently with her music—lighter, warmer.
But today there’s nothing. Just the hollow echo of my footsteps across the marble foyer and the soft tick of the grandfather clock from the study. Of course there’s nothing. She’s at the doctor’s. Dr. Ezra’s. The thought sends a fresh wave of irritation through me, the conversation from earlier replaying in my head.
You create family by taking care of the needy.
Dr. Ezra’s words claw at me, unwelcome and persistent. The bastard’s voice echoes in my skull like a parasite I can’t dig out.
As if thinking her name summons her, a text from Anna pings my phone.
ANNA: meet me at Carnal?
My cock hardens immediately, blood rushing south so fast I’m momentarily lightheaded. Damn woman either read my mind or therapy had her scrambling for the same escape. I lean against the wall, the cool plaster a contrast to my suddenly heated skin.
DOMHNALL: Now?
ANNA: Now.
I grin at the phone, thumbing in:
DOMHNALL: Good kitty
before taking the elevator down to the garage. The Aston Martin’s engine roars to life, pure predatory power vibrating through the steering wheel and into my bones.
Dallas traffic crawls, giving me too much time to think. About Dr. Ezra’s probing questions. About Moira and the mess I’ve made of that relationship. About four-year-old me trying to keep a crying baby alive while our mother stared blankly at the wall.
Family means something where I come from.
But what if I don’t know what family actually means? What if I’ve been playing house my whole life, desperately trying to prove I’m worth keeping around?
By the time I pull into Carnal’s private lot, I’m wound tight as a spring, desperate for the kind of release only pain and control can provide. The familiar throb of bass pulses through the asphalt as I approach the unmarked door. Kit nods at me, his eyes knowing as he lets me in without a word.
Inside, the club thrums with restrained energy. Amber spotlights catch on leather and skin, leaving the rest in shadow. The scent hits me immediately—leather, sweat, sex, and the sharp undercurrent of sanitizer that Caleb insists on. The air feels electric.
My eyes scan the room, searching for Anna. Then I spot Caleb behind the bar, his eyes meeting mine. He juts his chin toward the back wall, where the more serious equipment is set up.
My breath stops in my chest.
Because there’s my beautiful Anna, naked and shackled face-first to the St. Andrews cross, her round ass gleaming in the spotlight. Her pale skin catches the light, making her look almost otherworldly against the black leather and metal of the cross. Her hair falls in loose waves down her back, copper and gold under the amber lights.
“Anna,” I breathe out, rushing to her. “Are you alright, love?”
She looks over her shoulder at me, and my chest constricts at the naked vulnerability in her eyes. Something wild and desperate lives there, something I recognize from my own darkest moments.
“I want you to punish me, Sir,” she whispers, voice hoarse. “I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. This isn’t just desire—this is desperation. The same kind that’s been clawing at me since I left Dr. Ezra’s office.
“What happened?” I demand, immediately furious. “What did that fucking doctor say to you?”
She shakes her head, the movement sending her hair sliding across her bare shoulders. “Nothing. I just need you. I’ve been a bad girl, and I need you to punish me. Please, Domhn. Play with me. Tell me what a bad little whore I am. Be your worst. I deserve it. I want it.”