"We've established you believe that. But Eden—" I take a careful step closer. Not close enough to touch. Just close enough that she has to look up to meet my eyes. "Whether you believe it or not, I'm not letting you go. You're here. You're staying here. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make that tolerable for you."
"Tolerable," she repeats. "What a ringing endorsement of captivity."
"It's a starting point."
"And where do you think this ends? What's your endgame here, Vaughn? Keep me locked up until Stockholm syndrome kicks in? Until I'm so desperate for human connection that I convince myself I want this?"
"No."
"Then what?"
I search for the right words.
For a way to explain what I want without terrifying her more than she already is.
"I want you to understand that your body isn't shameful," I say quietly. "That pleasure isn't sin. That you have choices—limited choices, yes, but choices nonetheless. I want to show you that touch doesn't have to mean pain. That desire doesn't make you weak. That you can want things for yourself."
Her breath catches. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about undoing twenty-three years of lies. I'm talking about showing you what your body can do when you're not taught to fear it. I'm talking about giving you the education the Sanctuary denied you."
"By doing what? Forcing yourself on me?"
"No. Never." I hold her gaze. "By giving you time. Space. Information. Resources. And when you're ready—if you're ever ready—by showing you what pleasure feels like."
"I'll never be ready for that."
"Maybe not. But I'm patient enough to wait and find out."
She's trembling now.
Not from fear, I think.
From anger.
From the weight of everything I've just said.
"This is insane," she whispers.
"Probably."
"You're insane."
"Definitely."
"I should hate you."
"You do hate me."
"Then why—" She stops. Wraps her arms around herself. "Why can't I figure you out?"
"Because I'm not who you expected me to be."
"I expected a monster."
"I might still be one. Just a different kind than you're used to."
We stand there, three feet apart, staring at each other.
