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Merrick linked her cold fingers with his when she laid them on his hand. “There’s gonna be moments in the next couple hours when I push you, Tamsyn. I’m gonna push your limits hard, but right now, you need to find the courage that’s gonna last you until we’re done here. You lead, I’ll follow.”

“I can’t.”

“You can do anything you put your mind to,” he corrected quietly. “Don’t imagine what I’m gonna do to you in there, little owl. Think about what I’m gonna dowithyou, how the evening is gonna end with you limp, boneless, so sated by orgasms that there won’t be any room for fear.”

She just sighed, defeated. Faith seemed to be the topic of the evening; if he thought she could get wet in that hellhole, that arousal could conquer terror, he was one hell of an optimist.

Silently, shoulders slumped, she trudged forward as though the heavy weight of a noosed rope hung around her neck. Every step felt like a betrayal of herself, as though she was a victim voluntarily walking herself to the gallows.

Her steps were so small, Merrick only had to take one stride for every two of hers.

Even her knees were trembling by the time they reached the short flight of steps, threatening to buckle on the way up. Her skin was hot and clammy, her heartbeat erratic, her stomach tied up in a knot.

The hairs on her arms and neck prickled, rising when she stood in front of the doors.

Idiot. Stupid, gullible idiot.

Bad things are waiting for you…

She couldn’t lift her hand to push the barrier open, even with Merrick’s support. Her left was captured in the sling Jasper had told her she needed to wear, twice as useless than it had been in the cast.

It was Merrick who raised their joined hands to press against the wood, who opened the door to hell. Who, as promised, waited for her to lead so he could follow.

Against her better judgement and self-preservation instincts, she edged over the threshold into the sterile, white hallway. Aside from the décor, the rush of warmth reminded her of the night she stole into the clubhouse like a thief and how her legs had almost buckled.

It seemed like years ago now, yet it was only weeks.

Six weeks of beautiful, frightening freedom.

She jumped when the door thunked shut behind her; the overwhelming sense of panic in her chest and the urge torun, run, runwas so strong, she felt her body brace to obey.

“Easy, little owl. One step at a time, remember?”

Her lips were dry, her mouth barren of spit and voice.

“When you’re ready, head down the hallway. First door on the right, Tamsyn.”

She could see it—the open doorway, the light spilling out onto the white, white walls. As far as she knew, Merrick hadn’t had time this afternoon to come over and set up… whatever he wanted setting up, not unless he’d snuck out while she was sleeping.

She couldn’t rule it out, but she couldn’t see him doing that; he stayed with her when she slept, ready to slay her dragons if they crept up on her.

That meant someone else had spent their afternoon in there, making sure everything was laid out to Merrick’s specifications, imagining what the Master was going to do to his reluctant submissive.

Tamsyn wished her body’s natural response to stress wasn’t hurling; she hated feeling nauseous, despised the blatantly obvious signs of weakness. She couldn’t hide it from Merrick, which gave him a distinct advantage over her—not that he needed one when he read her like a book anyway.

Stomach roiling, seeing no way out of the trap, she inched her way along the dark blue-gray carpet, her sneakers soundless on the efficiently firm surface. She supposed it was easier to clean without the plush softness of a residential carpet, able to handle the foot traffic of those who came here… willingly or not.

That portal of light drew closer; her chest grew tighter.

Merrick’s hand couldn’t keep hers warm. A chill scored her bones, cutting deep with each tiny step until she stopped in the doorway. It stabbed deep, sending shockwaves of icy horror rippling from the roots of her hair all the way to her toes.

Dinan’s office had been a basic, simple torture chamber.

This simulated playroom was…

Saliva flooded her mouth, an ominous warning of what was coming next. She swallowed quickly, repeatedly, trying to stop herself from throwing up as her stomach twisted into a fist.

“Breathe, darlin’. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” Merrick swung in front of her, blocking her view. “Don’t be scared. It’s just a room; four walls and a ceiling. There’s a lot of fancy equipment in there that looks intimidating, but it doesn’t have to be. Nothing is gonna hurt you, Tamsyn. Your pain belongs to me every bit as much as your pleasure. Understand?”