I pull away from Parker’s embrace, from these false kisses that are as empty as his promises about caring for me. I can’t believe I was ready to spend my life with this man. He could never satisfy me. He doesn’t know the darkness I crave, the depravity, and the hot prickling heat of my flesh as the falls of a flogger hit their intended mark.
He’s not Ares.
He could never in a million years be Ares.
CHAPTER THREE
Pet
The cloying scent ofroses sting my sinuses. It’s cold in the greenhouse. I’m freezing, naked, gagged, blindfolded, and tethered to my Sir by a short leash. He trails his fingers along the nape of my neck. My skin prickles with both anticipation and fear.
“Stop crying, Pet.”
I can’t. I can’t stop.
I love him, and the distance between us hasn’t changed that in the slightest.
“Good, Camille,” Doctor March’s voice fills the greenhouse and it all dissolves, the crisp snow, the biting chill, and my Sir’s caresses. “Now, let’s talk about the night you were abducted.”
“Yes, let’s get to that, shall we?” Stahl’s empty voice chases away the last of this beautiful dream, and my eyes snap open. Doctor March is usually always so unruffled, but her lip twitches as she glares at Agent Stahl sitting opposite us in my father’s living room.
“By all means, Agent Stahl, you’re welcome to leave.”
“You know I can’t do that.” He snaps closed the manila folder in his hands and glares at me.
Doctor March taps her pen on her pad. The daggers she shoots Agent Stahl tell me that she has about as much patience with him today as I do. “These memory regression sessions may prove more fruitful without your presence.”
“They’d prove fruitful if Miss Flynn actually wanted to find her abductor.”
“That’s enough.” March stands abruptly. The teacup and saucer rattle on the table as the chair leg bumps the rich mahogany frame. “May I see you in private, Agent Stahl.”
It isn’t a question. Her tone is biting and brooks absolutely no argument.
“Why not? It’s not like we’re making progress here.” Stahl throws the file on the coffee table in front of us and stands, adjusting his belt as he follows the normally even-tempered doctor out of the room.
They’re not even out of earshot before March begins cussing. “What is your problem?”