Someone who belongs to Vaughn Sutherland.
And the most terrifying part? Some piece of me is starting to be okay with that.
Starting to accept it.
Maybe even want it.
"Can't sleep?" Vaughn's voice startles me in the darkness.
"I thought you were asleep."
"I was. Your restlessness woke me." He shifts, pulling me against his chest with familiar ease. "What's wrong?"
Everything. Nothing. I don't even know anymore. "I'm thinking."
"About?"
"The showcase."
"Are you scared?"
"Yes. Terrified."
"Of performing? Or of wanting to perform?"
The question cuts too close. "Both."
He's quiet for a moment, his hand stroking my hair in soothing rhythms. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking—" I stop. Force myself to be honest. "I'm thinking that I don't recognize myself anymore. That I've changed so much I don't know who I am. That the girl who ran from you is completely gone and I don't know if I should mourn her or be relieved."
"Why relieved?"
"Because she was so tired. So scared all the time. So busy fighting that she never got to just—exist. Just be."
"And now?"
"Now I'm different. Still scared sometimes. But not fighting as much. Not resisting. Just—" I struggle for words. "Just accepting. Submitting. Becoming what you're making me."
"What do you think I'm making you?"
"Yours. Completely yours. Body and mind and—" I can't finish.
"And?" he prompts gently.
"And heart," I whisper. "I think you're training my heart too. Making me feel things I shouldn't feel. Want things I shouldn't want."
"Like what?"
"Like your approval. Your praise. Your touch. Your—" I stop again.
"My what, Eden?"
"Your care. The way you hold me after. The way you make sure I'm okay. The way you look at me like I matter. Like I'm more than just property."
"You are more than property."
"But I am property. You bought me. Own me. That's what this showcase is about—proving your ownership."
