“It’s…subjective, I think. The difference in definition varies from person to person.”“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m asking you what you think.”I blinked behind the blindfold, an instinctive reaction to thinking. “Could I…sit down? Please?”“Of course. How rude of me to leave us standing here in the foyer.” He took my hand. “Come.”“Wait…the blindfold…aren’t you going to take it off?” I pulled back against his hand, reached for the fabric covering my eyes.Strong fingers imprisoned my wrist, stopping me gently but firmly. “No. Not yet. Not for a while, I think.”“What? What do you mean, not for a while?” I jerked my hand free, turned to where I thought he was standing.“I mean that I’ll remove the blindfold when I’m ready to do so. I am not yet ready for you to see me. You have four other senses, Kyrie. Focus on those.”“Are you, like, ugly or disfigured or something?”He laughed, and the sound was loud with raw amusement. “How very blunt of you. ” He took my hand once more, and I cou
“Yes, precisely.”“It’s about emotion, I think,” I said. “Sex is the clinical term, the context-less word for the act. It means nothing else, holds no meaning or importance beyond the mere physical act of engaging in sexual intercourse. Making love is…well, obviously it’s about love. It’s about the expression of the way you feel about someone. Fucking is…I guess I think about it as something crude. Rough and empty of emotion. Hard and fast. Although I guess it doesn’t have to be rough or hard, just…devoid of emotional exchange. You’d fuck someone you just met at the bar. You wouldn’t, and I think couldn’t, make love with someone you just met. You have to know them, understand them, care about them, actually love them to make love, whereas you can fuck anyone, anytime, no emotions or connections required.”“And have you personally experienced both?”I hesitated to answer. “I…I don’t know. I think so? I thought I was in love once. I thought what we had meant something. I’ve had sex, obv
Then why…like this?” I gestured to the blindfold, and then away, meaning the way I was picked up. “Why the checks? Why the hired goon saying he was ‘collecting’ me? Why the blindfold and the…the mysteriousness? Why? If you wanted me, why not simply arrange to meet me?”“Would you have come?” I heard leather creak, and his voice sounded nominally closer, as if he’d leaned forward. “If I’d arranged so that we ‘accidentally’” —I heard the quotes around the word— “met, would you have believed me? What would I have said? ‘Oh, hello, freya, I’m the guy who’s been sending you the checks.’ I think not. And if I’d arranged a meeting and gotten to know you under what would be considered normal circumstances, and then eventually revealed that I was the one who’d sent the checks, would you not have been upset that I’d kept the truth from you? That knowledge would’ve tainted whatever relationship we’d established up to that point. Am I wrong?”I sighed. “I guess you’re right. I hadn’t thought abou
“I was always there, Miss lomie. Out of sight, but there. You and Kelly were too drunk to even walk straight that night, but there were no cabs, and the bus didn’t go where you needed to go. So you ended up walking—and I use the term ‘walking’ very loosely—all the way home. Seventeen blocks. At two in the morning”I shuddered as I remembered that night. We had been living together then, in a shitty-ass apartment downtown. We rarely ventured outside past dark and never, ever, alone. That night, though, we did. And we’d thought, the next day, that it was a miracle we’d made it home alive. Now I was starting to think it was less a miracle than Harris’s unseen protection.“That was an insanely bad decision on our part,” I said. “We woke up the next day amazed that we’d made it home intact.”“You shouldn’t have,” he said. “You almost didn’t.”“What?” I took a sip of Scotch, for courage. “What do you mean?”Marcus answered. “Kelly was so drunk you basically carried her the whole way. She co
“Quickly, and easily. Don’t feel any guilt for their lives, Miss Lomie. They intended to take turns raping you two for hours. They were evil, sadistic creatures with not even a speck of humanity in them. I showed them the mercy of quick deaths.”“But you…you killed them. For me.”“Yes. I did. And I would do so again.”“Then there was also the matter of a potential mugger, just this past month,” he said. “marcus made sure the mugger never reached his intended point of ambush. That particular individual was merely…persuaded, shall we say, to give up a life of crime.”“Indeed,” Marcus said. “I can be rather persuasive.”I had a hard time breathing suddenly. “What—what else did you do on my behalf?”He answered. “Only one other matter required intervention. The last gentleman you dated. Steven dexter.”“Steven? What did you do to Steven?”“The Steven you knew, and the real Steven…they were not the same person.” He paused, and I heard the tone of his voice shift to address Marcus “You may
“Yes, I am. As I said, I know you won’t trust my word, so when I take you to your room, you will have an opportunity to peruse the file I had Marcus put together.”“What did you do to Steven?”“I merely had Marcus convince him that it would be in his best interests to vanish from your life. Permanently.”“You didn’t have him killed?”“No. He hadn’t done anything to you, so I couldn’t justify it. I would have liked to, however. He is a filthy, vile creature. I did report him to the authorities, however, so hopefully he will be stopped before he hurts anyone else.”I thought back to my time dating Steven. I wasn’t one to jump right into the sack with a guy I was dating, so we didn’t sleep together until we’d been dating for nearly two months. He’d never pushed, simply waited patiently until I indicated I was ready.He was unfailingly polite, always a gentleman, paying for meals and opening doors, buying me flowers, taking me on some of the most romantic dates I’d ever been on. When we f
“Hmm…” He sighed, the sound of someone gathering his thoughts. “You are Freya Lomie, Twenty-five years old. Daughter of Amanda Detritus Lomie, and Spencer Noah Lomie. Your mother suffers from bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, and is currently residing at the Cavern hospital Care Home in Auburn Hills. Your father is deceased. You have one brother,Jax Liam Lomie, who is currently attending Columbia College in Chicago. Your best friend is Kelly Tori Chadoni. You have one living set of grandparents, maternal. No other immediate family. You have a bachelor’s degree in social work from Campbell University, and are currently pursuing your master’s. You are five foot seven, and your weight fluctuates between one-thirty and one-forty. Blonde hair, blue eyes. No medical conditions. You had your appendix out when you were sixteen. You have been supporting your mother and brother on your own since your father’s passing seven years ago. Your favorite color is lavender. You have a slight addiction
“I’ll see you soon, freya” Warm lips brushed my cheek, his breath Scotch-laced and hot. I shivered at the feel of his lips on my cheek, not even an inch from my mouth.“Yeah,” I said, letting every last shred of sarcasm I possessed paint my voice. “You’ll see me.”He only laughed, a rumbling chuckle. “It won’t be for long. I promise. Just try to trust me, and the blindfold will come off.”“Trust you? How the hell am I supposed to trust you? I don’t know even know your name! I’m blindfolded!”“You have to give yourself over to me. It will be frightening, I know. It goes against nature, especially for one who has been through what you have. I know this. I know the enormity of what I ask. But I wouldn’t ask it of you if I didn’t think you capable of it. And I wouldn’t ask it of you if it wasn’t necessary, for me.” His finger trailed along my cheek. “Hear this: As you learn to trust me, as you give yourself to me, so will I learn to trust you, and give you myself.”That shook me to the cor