Faded now to a few indistinct lines, they filled me with bone-deep hatred and fear. Both palms held the mark: the Roman numeral III.

My body tensed, wishing Mount Everest had done a better job of hitting me tonight. It meant I’d have to service that need before f**king Hazel.

The reminder of why I was down here pulled me from my thoughts, and I surveyed the shelves and barrels full of metal to use.

I had to solve the problem of her touching me, but how?

No matter what designs or solutions I came up with, the outcomes I envisioned all ended badly. I couldn’t trust her to obey. That meant I had to restrain her. Put her on a leash like a pet I’d bought to use. But if I restrained her, the neurons in my brain would think she was prey.

She is prey. Dobycha.

I’d slipped and used a word from my mother tongue. I’d called her prey in Russian. The intensive dialect classes I’d crammed when I first arrived in Sydney abandoned me for a moment. I couldn’t use my first language anymore. It wasn’t safe.

My heart raced thinking how easy it’d been to fall into old languages—how imperfect my life was.

Shit, at this rate I’d probably end up paying her tomorrow to get her the hell away from me. I didn’t like these thoughts. These weak as f**k thoughts that dragged up my past.

You’ll never be na**d around her.

You’ll never feel her hands on your cock.

You’ll never be able to have full body contact.

You’ll end up snapping her neck.

I was a f**king idiot.

I wish I never set eyes on her.

Prowling to the crucible with a lump of previously melted bronze in the centre, I cranked the furnace and set the tool into the licking flames.

Deliberately throwing myself into work, I ignored thoughts of how f**ked-up my life was and flicked switches for sanders, drilling equipment, and buffers. Unravelling a length of silver chain I’d been using on an intricate custom piece, a concept came to mind. A blueprint to somehow keep Zel safe—or as safe as possible from me.

Minutes ticked by as I worked. It calmed my mind, granting a small illusion of peace.

Hours inched past as I toyed with metal and fire and sweat. Working with such unforgiving materials was a reminder that no matter how set in stone we seemed, we could always change. We could mould and adapt and become something new, even a hunk of iron.

I had to hold faith.

I could change.

Over time.

Settling on a stool under a large halogen, I turned my thoughts off and proceeded to turn a piece of chain into a prison.

The sun tinged the horizon with its pink and golden welcome by the time I’d finished. Climbing the stairs from my lair, my creation tight in my fist, I sighed heavily with relief.

Through the glass roof along the central spine of the house warm rays of sunlight spilled. The familiar tension left my body.

Night was over. Day was back.

With every step toward my room, I clutched the silver harder. I hoped like hell this worked. Opening the door quietly, I made my way across the carpet, deliberately walking in bright patches of morning sun. There were no curtains on the massive bifolds. No way to block out the glare.

That was another thing Zel would have to get used to. I never slept in the dark.

Night had been work hours—full of terror and terribleness. Day was my one chance to be in the light—the small window where the memories were forced to leave.

The night belonged to my past. The day belonged to my future.

The form of a sleeping woman lay burrowed under my sheets. Blankets tugged up over her shoulders, her hands shoved under the pillow beneath her cheek.

My heart thudded hard. She was in my space. Smelling my covers, sleeping on my side of the bed.

I wanted to tear the protection off her and touch her. I needed to find that spark, the energy that existed between us. Remember why I was insane enough to try this.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

First, I needed purging.

Entering the bathroom, I shed my clothes and left them on the floor. Placing the item I made on the vanity, I stepped into the black-tiled shower. Turning on the tap, hot water rained instantly. I twisted it on as far as it would go.

It hurt. It burned. It scalded a layer of skin. But I didn’t mix the temperature with cold.

The raining fire did something for me that nothing else achieved. It was my drug of choice.

I’d read somewhere that self-harm was a cry for help. A sure sign an individual needed counselling. And they were right. However, I wasn’t crying out for help when I forced my body to stand under a torrent of boiling water. I found salvation.

Pain helped. Inflicting agony gave me a tiny bit of peace. It erased a little bit of badness. It was my version of meditation or relaxing music. It stopped me from exploding.

My skin turned lobster-red, and I shuddered with the urge to dart from under the pinpricks of agony, but I stood and accepted the punishment.

Five minutes passed eternally slowly, but I never once looked down. I never once ran hands over my flesh, or touched the new ridges of injuries and scars. I knew every inch of my violent past and wished it wasn’t so evident on my skin. I never fisted my c**k or sought to find a quick release.

I’d been conditioned to feel nothing but the will to obey.

My body wasn’t mine to touch or look at. It had belonged to them; it still belonged to them.

With a shaking hand, I wrenched the cold water on and groaned as icy droplets soothed my burned flesh.

It layered the pain with two intense reactions, doubling the relief.

After blasting myself with ice, I turned off the water and stumbled from the shower.

Avoiding looking at myself in the mirror, I wrapped a towel around my waist and entered the dark bedroom. Making sure Zel was still asleep and wouldn’t catch me naked, I slinked soundlessly through the sunlight.

Entering the walk-in wardrobe, I let the towel fall and quickly yanked on black cotton pants, followed by a black t-shirt. Even on my own, I never slept naked—never ran the risk of being unprepared.

The moment I had clothing on again, I relaxed. Along with hiding certain things, my scars were cloaked, too. Hazel didn’t need to see self-inflicted injuries as well as ones earned in duty.

She didn’t need to know anything about me.

Padding over to the bed, I watched her sleep. Her long brown hair fanned the black sheets looking as if she’d become one with the mattress.

Her breathing was so shallow I had to strain to make sure she was alive. She looked so pure, so undamaged, so unlike me.

My eyes fell to the soft curves of her figure below. My c**k twitched at the thought of what I could do to her. What she would let me do for two hundred thousand dollars.

I would f**k her and taste her and use her in every way possible.

In this private purchased world, I could do anything I wanted.

She was mine.

Her mouth parted as she rolled from her side onto her back. One arm flew above her head, thudding against the pillow. Her face scrunched up, eyes fluttered. Either a dream or a nightmare danced behind closed eyelids.

What did normal people dream of? Love and happiness?

“No,” she murmured sleepily.

I froze, waiting for her eyes to fly open. When they stayed closed, I let myself drink in her parted lips, the flush on her cheeks. My thoughts filled with images of her mouth around my c**k and her tongue licking me, tasting me.

I was hard at the thought of a release. I’d forgotten what an orgasm felt like. I had no recollection of the pleasurable explosion I’d felt only twice before.

Zel would teach me to remember. Zel would cure me of my sins.

And I was about to take her.

Linking the chain through my fingers, I leaned down and touched her.

Chapter 7

One terrible mistake ended up giving me the best gift of my life.

Every day was harder, every trial more stressful, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

Before her, I didn’t care about anyone or myself. I stole, I cheated, and I lied. I existed on a downward spiral with a grave for a destination. But she changed me.

Clara.

I used my skill at bullshitting to earn well-paying jobs. I studied relentlessly, teaching myself—a homeless ragamuffin with no education—to qualify for certificates and diplomas.

I forged my past to create a positive future, and it worked. The corporate world opened their doors; a regular income filled my bank account. I earned every penny from hard work.

But then I was fired, and every saved penny went to Clara’s treatment. I existed on the fine edge of destitution.

I sold myself for two hundred thousand dollars to a man I didn’t trust.

To a man who would hurt me more than anyone ever could.

I thought I could save him.

Just like I could save my daughter.

I was wrong.

“You like that? There?” Fox murmured around my nipple. His hands coasted up and down my body, spreading fire, coating me in delicious sensation.

My hands tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp, pressing his mouth harder against me. “Yes, there. Like that.”

He pulled back, white eyes looking soft as snow. “Touch me.”

I dropped my hands and followed the contour of his back, revelling in every ridge of muscle.

He groaned and grabbed me closer, kissing me with everything bared—rocking into me. Rocking, rockin—

“Zel.” Something poked my shoulder, shattering the lust-filled connection. My dream disintegrated into smoke.

“Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

I wanted to argue. It wasn’t a nightmare, more like a fantasy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had such an erotic dream. I fought against losing the kinky comfortable nothingness of sleep; not wanting to return to the world of worries and uncertainty.

The first person to spring to mind was Clara. Her pretty seraphic face, pink with health and youth, smiling happily. But beneath the glow of vitality existed the life-stealing illness that I couldn’t fight.

My heart squeezed, and I struggled to suck in a breath. It never got easier facing the possibility of death for my child.

“Wake up,” Fox growled. His tone banished my sadness, recreating the passion from my dream. My mind entertained thoughts of his arms around me, lips kissing mine. My core throbbed in time to the delicious rocking he’d interrupted.

He had issues, and I would never trust him, but I couldn’t deny the affect he had on my body.

I opened my eyes.

Sunlight!

Shit, I’d spent the entire night? Regret swamped me at the thought of Clara waking up without me. Of Clue explaining that her hooker of a mother was off spending time with someone else.

I’m a terrible mother.

My mind whirled with repercussions. I needed the money, but what was the point if money couldn’t cure her? I’d be wasting a full month of being without her all for nothing.

I can’t do it.

The morning sun brought a new reality, and my heart felt like it’d been ripped out of my chest. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her while I allowed a stranger to control me.

The soft pleasure from my dream sharpened and twisted in my gut. Fox stood tall, dark, and brutal. His grey eyes glowed; his jaw clenched tight. “You’re awake.”

My stomach fluttered drinking in the ferocious male beside me. I knew three things instantaneously in that moment.

One, I would let him do whatever he wanted because I’d lived a life caring for others for far too long.

Two, I would leave the moment his back was turned. I needed to see Clara.

And three, he would end up hurting me more than anyone, and I would either hate him for eternity or kill him.

Fox glared, no doubt trying to figure out my thoughts. “What were you dreaming?”

Oh, God. A question I didn’t want to answer and a lie he would be able to detect. My heart bolted around my chest. “Nothing.”

“You’re flushed. It’s not nothing.” Towering over me, he gave me no choice but to look straight into his silver eyes. He stood like a statue he’d created. “Tell me. Keeping secrets is non-negotiable.”

My cheeks flushed recalling the dream. The need. The way he’d thrust into me hard and ruthless. Biding for time, I sat up and tucked the black sheet under my arms before it fell off my na**d br**sts. A curtain of hair covered my shoulders, providing some semblance of decency.

“Tell me, woman.” Fox opened and closed his fists. “I won’t ask again.”

A thrill of fear licked my stomach. “You want to know, I’ll tell you, then perhaps you can deliver. I dreamed of you.” I tucked a strand behind my ear. “You licked my nipple, and I wrapped my fingers in your hair. I stroked every inch of you and when you thrust inside me I almost came just from the dream.” Narrowing my eyes, I murmured, “Happy? Are you pleased to know I want you? Because I do.”

And the sooner I can seduce you the sooner I can find a way home.

Fox stood frozen. His mouth parted as fiery lust exploded in his eyes. “You dreamed of me f**king you?” His voice rasped with need. “Why?”

I frowned. “Why? You’ve taken over my life in the last few hours; it’s natural for my brain to be consumed by you.”

He stiffened. “You’re consumed by me?”

My eyes dropped to the rapidly growing erection in his trousers. I bit my lip as all the heat from arguing with him last night and my saucy dream cindered in my core. “Yes. And I know you’re consumed by me. I know you want to sink deep inside me. You’re making me wait, Fox, and it’s only making me hotter.”

“Fuck me,” Fox groaned. His hand tightened around something glittering in his fist. “You’re destined to ruin me.” He bent over quickly, his eyes latched on my mouth. I parted my lips eager to accept another kiss, but he stopped and jerked backward. “Not yet. Not till it’s safe.”