But that wasn’t what she was asking. Emmy was too smart, too observant, not to wonder about the scars he carried under his skin.
“How much do you want to know?”
“As much as you’re comfortable telling me.”
Spence was quiet for a long moment, organizing his thoughts, deciding where to start.
“I was eleven when I was abducted,” he said finally. “Finishing sixth grade. I was in foster care, had threatened to run away more than once, so when I disappeared…” He shrugged. “No one looked very hard.”
Emmy’s eyes were open now, focused on his face with that fierce intelligence that never quite dimmed even through illness.
“The man who bought me, my former Master, he trained me to be a sex slave. Specifically. Methodically.” Spence’s voice stayed level, matter-of-fact. He’d long since processed the trauma, but saying it out loud still required careful control. “At first, I was trained in how to please both genders sexually, but without penetration, except for the enema nozzles, I guess.” A shrug. “He waited until my twelfth birthday before he fucked me. In his mind, that made him not a pedophile, because he’d lived in a time when twelve was considered marriageable age.”
Emmy’s hand found his, her grip surprisingly strong despite her weakness. “Spence—”
“I’m okay,” he assured her. “It was a long time ago, and Abbott freed me from that. But the training…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “The training became part of who I am. How I’m wired.”
“The masochism?” Emmy asked quietly.
“Some of it, yes. But it’s more than that.” Spence shifted on the bed, angling so he could see her better. “I was bitten when I was twelve, turned into a werewolf specifically so I could withstand more abuse. My former Master controlled my wolf through the blood bond. I never learned to shift on my own, never even met my wolf properly until Zander freed me.”
He watched her process that, saw the moment understanding clicked into place.
“The relationship with your wolf was damaged from the start.”
“Yes. My wolf is still a little feral, but I can keep fromchanging. We’re careful about where I am when I let him out, but I’m in control when I’m in this form, and as long as I’m with friends when I’m the wolf, we’re good.”
“But you shift during scenes,” Emmy said. “The Red Riding Hood feeding frenzy. On stage.”
“Oh, that’s safe because Zander is close and can keep him leashed.” Spence’s thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. “The masochism, though, who knows who I’d be if I hadn’t been trained to enjoy pain? To associate pain with sexual release? But that was my introduction to sex, and it’s stuck. I need pain to fully enjoy sex, and that’s okay.”
Spence took a breath. “Zander knows what I need, and he’s a sadist, so it works.” He smiled. “He treats me as his lover outside of sex scenes, rather than his submissive. Ibelong to him in all ways, and at first, I’d have preferred being treated as a slave, but he forced me to learn how to make decisions, how to manage other people, and I love him for it.”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. In my head, I’m his submissive, but one of his rules is that I express myself, that I tell him my thoughts even when they differ from his. My opinions are valuable to him, whether they’re in line with his or not, and I’m required to tell him what I think, when I know it’s information that might help him make a decision, or just when he needs to know how I feel.”
“Did you have a choice?”
“I did, and for a while, I considered whether I wanted to join the Pack, back when Randall was Alpha, but then I couldn’t have belonged to Zander, so it was never a serious option.”
Emmy was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. “Do you ever regret it? Choosing to belong to Zander?”
“Never.” The answer came without hesitation. “He gave me freedom in every way that matters. I choose to serve him. I choose to submit. I choose to let him feed from me, to let him hurt me in ways that make me fly.” Spence’s voice softened. “He sees me, Emmy. Not just the slave I was, or the broken thing my former Master tried to make me. He seesme— the person I am, the person I’m becoming — and he lovesallof me.”
“I see that,” Emmy whispered. “The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s…” She trailed off, searching for words.
“Safe,” Spence finished for her. “It’s safe to be vulnerable with him, because I know he’ll never abuse that trust. The pain he gives me is a gift, not a weapon, and that makes all the difference.”
On screen, Buffy was battling vampires in a cemetery, but neither of them was watching. Emmy’s fingers were still tangled with his, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Thank you,” she said. “For trusting me with that.”
“You’re…” Spence wasn’t sure how to explain it, but he had to try. “I’m not supposed to have favorites, but you’re special. I feel like you could become … I don’t know. I’m scared to try to name it, but I feel close to you.”
Emmy’s mouth curved into a small smile. “Yeah. I feel it too.”
Zander’s voice came into his head, not in the soft caress he often felt, but a quick check-in. Brusque.
We found them.
