He reaches out, thumb brushing my cheek so lightly I might have imagined it. But the heat that follows is real. The way my skin tingles is real. I’m not imagining this. He’s not a vampire or a werewolf. He’s not a figment of my overactive imagination. He’s real and standing right next to me.
“Think about what you want,” he says. “Not what you think you should want. What you actually need.”
“And if I already know? What if I’ve spent the last several years thinking about what I want and more importantly, what I need?”
His eyes darken. “Then we talk. Soon.”
He steps back, putting deliberate distance between us again. But the connection doesn't break. If anything, it pulls tighter.
“Be safe,” he says. “I'll see you soon.”
And then he's gone, leaving me standing in a greenhouse full of flowers with my heart pounding and the absolute certainty that everything is about to change.
CHAPTER 4
The video posts that evening and it’s one of my favorites to date. The soft, romantic montage of winter flowers and snow-dusted paths set to a trending audio about finding magic in unexpected places gets half a million views in the first hour.
The comments are the usual mix of heart emojis and requests to know what filter I'm using and people asking where this is so they can visit. I respond to a few, like a few more, and try to ignore the way my stomach keeps fluttering every time I think about Ty. We’ve spoken a few times on the phone but the conversations lack the depth I’d been hoping for. It’s safe to say I’m smitten. I want to ask him if he’s a Daddy, if he knows about littles and power exchange. The moment hasn’t been right.
I'm curled up on my couch, laptop balanced on my knees, when my phone buzzes.
Ty: You tagged the location.
My fingers freeze over the keyboard and I pick up the phone.
Me: It's a public garden. You told me to go there.
Ty: I told you to go there. Not to broadcast it to three million people.
Something defensive rises in my chest.
Me: That's literally my job.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Ty: Can I call you?
My heart rate kicks up.
Me: Yes.
I close my laptop and walk to my bedroom. I settle into my bed and the phone rings less than ten seconds later. I answer on the second ring, trying to sound casual and probably failing.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” he says, and even through the phone his voice has that deep, controlled, with an edge tone that makes my skin prickle. “We need to talk about boundaries.”
I pull my knees up to my chest. “Okay.”
“I'm not trying to control your career,” he continues. “Or tell you how to do your job. But there's a difference between creating content and putting yourself at risk. I’m a stickler for safety, little girl.”
Little girl.
I ignore the phrase and what it does to my insides. “The gardens are safe. You said so yourself.”
“The gardens are fine. Tagging yourself in real-time while you're still there is not. I saw the story you posted earlier today. It was live, with the location tag on.”
I bite my lip. “I've been doing this for years, Ty. I know how to stay safe.”
