“It’s okay. You can stand,” I said softly, inching closer. Brown, straggly hair hung with grease, huge shadows ringed her eyes. Her wrists were brittle thin. Aura beaten and trodden. Everything screamed abuse.

Is this how they all arrive? Was that why Q seemed so surprised, so intrigued by me? I refused to bow. I swore. I hissed.

My breathing stopped.

I saw myself how Q did that day: a fighter through and through. A woman not stomped into depression or servitude. A flash of brightness in a world of sadness. I was the polar opposite of this poor girl.

I dropped to my knees, holding out a hand. She scuttled away, trembling.

I stood, backing up. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

“Sephena. Stand up.”

My body clamped and clenched and melted. His voice. Him. Master. Controller. Sexy as hell control freak.

I shivered and spun. Facing my master. My chosen fate.

Q stood halfway down the staircase, pale jade eyes blazing with a mixture of amazement, lust, and anger.

The air arched and crackled, tension flooding the space. Goosebumps erupted and nothing else existed but him.

The huddling girl shuffled beside me, climbing to unsteady feet. I tore my eyes from Q as she bowed and went to him.

I followed, drawn like a magnet to Q’s power.

Q only had eyes for me; he moved silently down the stairs. His black pin-stripe suit with aubergine shirt and faded grey tie, whispered with every step. His polished dress shoes shone against blue carpet. I drank in everything about him.

There were lines around his eyes that weren’t there before. The knotted tension in his shoulders. His whisper-thin control frayed, showing a less than perfect posture.

He stopped two steps above, glaring. “Que fait tu ici?” What are you doing here?

I waged the battle to swoon at his voice. My sense of hearing, so completely owned by him, ordered me to worship. To climb his magnificent hard body, and never let him pry me away again.

I licked my lips, smouldering with need. The spark between us couldn’t be denied. It burned like a tripwire, waiting to explode.

The entire time I lived with Brax, I had no interest in sex. Now, I would die if I didn’t have him. Legs trembled, body flamed, and wetness melted unashamedly. Q erupted all my longing into a fireball, incinerating my insides.

Poor Sephena was completely ignored.

“I came for you,” I whispered. “On my own accord.”

His nostrils flared, mouth parted. That mouth, oh, how I wanted to kiss it. Tongue him. Have it all over me.

“Sephena. Go and find Suzette. She’ll show you where the swimming pool is.” He softened the hard edge in his tone. “Remember, you’re free to do whatever pleases you.” Q stressed the word free. I fell a little more.

The girl didn’t show surprise, but I sure did. How did I not know Q had a swimming pool? What other surprises would I find? I would make sure Q kept me so I could find out. I wanted to help in every part of his life. He needed someone.

I blinked, realizing just how lonely he was. A parade of broken women, sharing his home, never finding solace in them.

He worked and slept and worked some more.

The moment Sephena disappeared, I balled my fists. “We need to talk.”

He bared his teeth. “We don’t need to do anything. I sent you back. What the f**k are you doing here?”

My palm itched to slap him, to knock some sense into him. Was he clueless to the pain he caused? Or so suffocated by his own, he couldn’t think straight? Everything I planned to say flew out of my head; I folded to the floor.

A submissive talking to her dominant. But I wasn’t a submissive. I was the woman who would steal Q, just like he stole me. He had no choice. I wasn’t going to give him one. “Master…Q…Quincy… ”

He sucked in a huge gust of air, suit rustling as he shifted.

“My name is Tess Snow. Not Sweetie, or Tessie, or Honey. I’m a woman only now realizing what she’s capable of. I’m no one’s daughter. I’m no one’s girlfriend. I’m no one’s possession. I belong to me, and for the first time, I know how powerful that is.”

I stared at the marble, laying my heart at his feet. “I came back for the man I see inside the master. The man who thinks he’s a monster because of his twisted desires. The man who rescues slaves and sends them back to loved ones. I came back for Q. I came back to be his esclave, but also to be his equal.”

My voice trailed off as my throat clogged with passion. “I came back to be your everything… just like you’re becoming mine.”

My heart thudded like a drum, roaring in my ears.

He stepped closer.

Shoes appeared in my line of vision. His voice echoed dark and thick. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

I lifted my head, boldly wrapping a hand around his ankle. “I’m offering you my pain. My blood. My pleasure. I’m offering you the right to whip and f**k. To debase and harm. I’m offering to fight your needs with my own. I’m willing to join you in the darkness and find pleasure in excruciating pain. I’m willing to be your monster, Q.”

I dug nails into his trouser leg, voice aching with truth. “We’re the same.”

With a snarl, he yanked his foot away, prowling into the library. I looked after him, shocked. Damn, he was hard work.

I stood and followed, locking the huge glass door behind us, flicking the switch to turn the glass from see-through to opaque. Privacy descended and tension threaded between us, exploding into the realm of scary with need. I could see it: hot ribbons of crimson lust, glittering with stars of want and intoxication.

Q bent over his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. The dark room whispered of sin, compelling wrongness. Books full of erotic stories looked down from dust-free shelves, encouraging me to finish what I started.

I returned to Q. But he had to work, too. He owed an apology, an explanation. He owed me his heart.

Q whirled away, pacing, running a hand over short hair. Eyes flickered to me and I tried to read the burning feelings in his gaze.

“You can’t force me to leave, as I came on my own freewill. This may be your house, Q, but you don’t have the strength to throw me away twice.” I hoped to God I was right.

He growled under his breath, prowling, never stopping.

Standing in the centre of the room, I watched. Letting the beast roam, expelling excess angst. While he paced, I talked.