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“Where are you?” I focus on Master’s gray eyes. Intense, peeling my layers back one at a time to reveal everything I am to him, eating me alive. He always wants to know what I reflect on. I haven’t been very open about that. I can tell it frustrates him, but he’s patient.

“Master, may I ask you a question?”

“Yes, Slave. After you’ve answered my question. Where are you?” Master tilts his head to the side.

“I was in the music room… In the costume closet.” Master’s lip twitches, and he exhales a puff through his nose. I’d love to hide right now, my skin warming under the scrutiny of his gaze after I just admitted to reminiscing about one of our experiences. But I can’t; I must kneel and remain open to him. Three deep breaths, and I move on to my question. “Have you done this with anyone else?” His eyes narrow a fraction.

“No.”

“Master, may I ask another question?”

“Yes, Slave.”

“Why do this with me?” It takes everything in me not to stutter and fumble on those words. It’s one thing in a performance, memorizing lines or songs, and entering a role that is nothing like me. In my own life, I lack the confidence that I have on stage. Master’s been helping me with that, helping me build from the ground up to speak my mind and not be afraid of what comes after.

Master gets down on one knee and gently grabs my jaw between his thumb and forefinger knuckle, locking eyes with me.

“I want to own you. All of you. Mind, body, and soul.”

My heart pounds in my chest. This doesn’t exactly answer my doubts; it’s not love, it’s ownership. But so long as I like this, and it’s just me, maybe that would be all that I need.

This dynamic has been better than I expected. After our night in the library, he came to me in my new room and presented his proposal. A power exchange: he would be my Master and I his Slave. Every night, I come to his room, obey his commands, practice his poses, and if I am properly healed, allow him to use me as his canvas. Master forces me to feel. The physical pain and praise crush the agony living inside of me. At first, I wasn’t sure how I would feel about it. But my body is getting stronger from the poses. Some are dynamic-specific, such as: attention, wait, wall, service, kneel, present, and humble. Others are strength-focused, such as the plank, upward and downward dog, wheel, and warrior poses. Reflection and meditation has stopped me from ignoring the permanently numb state I have trained myself in for years, and most of all, I feel free and at peace when I’m with him. It’s nice getting his affection every night after Mindset, the state of Master and Slave. It turns out, giving my submission to someone I trust has been exactly what I needed. Master carries my burdens about the world; it has softened me and allowed me to open more.

“Vol’no.” At ease. Cain says, releasing my jaw and gesturing to the bed. I go to the bed and slip on my dress, because yes, I perform all Mindset poses in my fitted boxers and sports bra. That’s certainly been a confidence boost with the way he looks me over.

Cain grabs something from the hope chest and spreads it over the bed. It’s a quilt. No, it’s the quilt that I made with Aurora.

“Sit down. Notice anything?” I give it a once-over, then look at him.

“Is there something wrong with it?”

“No. You followed the pattern my mother had made. Now look at the bigger picture.” He says, running his fingers through my long hair.

I look back and take it all in rather than focus on the sewing details. Aurora had me use a variety of threads of various thicknesses. Forest green thread on top of dark shades of green, red, and brown. It doesn’t stand out. It wasn’t meant to be noticed.

“It’s the manor.” A smile curls my lips, and my stomach flutters as Cain tucks my hair behind my ear.

“More importantly, it’s a map of the manor.” Cain runs his finger along the entryway passage and stops at a small, embroidered star. “Each entrance is marked with a symbol.” He goes back to my hair, dividing the sections.

Is he… Braiding it?

“Cain, that’s in the middle of the main hall. There’s nothing there.” He’s quiet, working his fingers through my hair like a professional. Finishing it off with a tie at the end. “When did you learn how to do this?” I ask, running my hand over the perfect French braid, then flipping the braid through my fingers. He did a good job.

“When Pru moved in, her mental health really started to decline. There were several months when she wouldn’t even brush her hair. So, I started doing it for her… That came in handy when Dahlia needed my help as well.” He laces his fingers with mine, leans in, and brushes his lips along my neck before placing a chaste kiss. “Come with me,” he whispers, then blows in my ear, sending goosebumps erupting down my neck and spine.

We leave his room, the house quiet now that it’s nearly midnight. Only under the cover of darkness does Cain show any affection. He keeps hold of my hand; fingers laced tightly with my own. We don’t even make it to the next corridor when he halts.

“The walls of each corridor are decorated along the trim, the same symbols you sewed onto the quilt. See how this one is slightly larger than the rest?” he points up to the decorative spades on the trim. One is a fraction larger than the rest. Grabbing my waist, gluing me to his side, Cain balls his fist and thuds the spade.

Cain

Chapter 13

The floor swivels beneath us as we are spun around into the pitch dark behind the wall. The secret passageway system my mother must have had designed when they were getting ready to build this colony. She must have known that Alistair was a monster from the start, that she needed a secret to keep to herself in case anything happened, and we needed to hide.

Violet’s frozen, her arms now around my waist as she clutches so hard her nails dig through the fabric and into my skin. Her breathing is choppy, with quick inhales and exhales. She’ll pass out if she keeps this up.

“Hey.” I pull her closer to me with one hand and wrap the other around her neck, rubbing my thumb up and down along her racing pulse. “Shhh, I’m right here.”