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“I know, little owl. Don’t think I don’t understand how much this is costing you. It’s gonna get harder for a while, but we’ll get through it together. There’s ten feet between us; think you can make it?”

Her weak hand fisted. The sling cradled her arm from elbow to wrist, offering a fraction of the protection she’d gotten from the cast. She lifted her gaze to his, and the faint sheen of tears damn near unmanned him. “Merk.”

He held out his hand. “Ten feet, Tamsyn. Ten baby steps.”

Her eyes darted to Fordham, barely registering his existence, then flicked over to the contraption gleaming under the miniature spotlights in the center of the room. The perfectly harmless gyno chair was, to her, the biggest threat in the room despite the two Masters keeping her company.

“Ignore it, darlin’. We’ll deal with that later. Right now, I want your eyes on me and your hand in mine.”

Tamsyn sucked on her lower lip, pressing her trembling thighs together as her feet shuffled nervously. He hated seeing her pale and anxious, knowing he was essentially the cause—the roots of the problem stemmed from her father and his ridiculous cult, but Merrick was the one pushing her to expose and detach them.

With a sharp cry of distress, she turned her face away from the chair and hurried toward him with her hand clamped over her mouth. Sickness was a sure sign she was reaching her limit; he didn’t want to reach that point, even if physical purging helped with the mental toxins.

Her body collided with his, her arm dropping to wrap around his waist as her face burrowed against his chest. Her breathing was erratic, her muscles so tense it felt like one wrong touch would shatter her.

“Good girl. So brave,” he crooned, folding his arms around her. “Very,veryproud of you, little owl.”

“Want to go home now.”

“If that’s what you want, Tamsyn.”So much for pushing her limits.

Fordham raised his eyebrows, glancing up from his phone. “Huh. Thought you had more balls than this, sweetheart. Guess I was wrong.”

What the hell was he doing? Merrick scowled fiercely at his friend, only to receive a subtle headshake in return. Apparently he wasn’t the only one asking for trust here tonight; Fordham was asking for his.

Slowly, Tamsyn turned her head until her cheek was against Merrick’s chest, her face in Fordham’s direction. “W-What?”

Sighing heavily, the other Dom made a dramatic show of finishing whatever he was doing on his phone, then shoving the device back into his pocket before answering her. He took his time lowering his boot to the floor, still slouched as though he didn’t give a shit what happened in his presence, then gestured with one hand. “Well, seems to me, the girl who ran away from a sex-trafficking cult in the middle of winter with nothing but the clothes on her back was the stronger version of you. Who you are now…”

Merrick’s scowl deepened when Fordham jerked his chin in his direction.

“He’s made you soft, dependent. Not deliberately, but because he’s in love with you and doesn’t want to send you spiraling into a pit of terror by crossing your limits. Me, I’d have you naked in that chair, strapped down until you learned how to deal with the fear.” Fordham shrugged nonchalantly. “But then, that’s just me, I guess. And you, sweetheart… maybe your courage has run dry for the night.”

Cursing silently, Merrick felt her go rigid in his arms as Ford’s words sank in. “Enough, Fordham. I’m pleased with her progress, even if you’re not.” He made damn sure his tone indicated he didn’t give a fuck about Ford’s opinion. “Tamsyn wants to go home, I’m taking her home.”

To his surprise, his little owl bristled and set her hand on his chest, stepping back. “No.”

He stayed where he was as Tamsyn challenged Ford, one hand on her hip. Her chin angled in defiance, matching her attitude. Evidently, being called a coward reinvigorated her inner spark.

“Just because Merrick loves me doesn’t mean he won’t make me cry if he has to,” she said heatedly. “He does what’s best for me even if it doesn’t make him happy. I ran away from the community to save my life, but running didn’t save me—Merrick did.”

Ford opened his mouth; Tamsyn shut him down.

“He hasn’t made me soft, I just wasn’t strong in the beginning.” She fumbled with the sling, removing it carefully before tossing it at him. “I hate this place. Maybe it’s an irrational fear but it’s mine, and Merrick understands that.” Her next words were lost in the fabric of her hoodie and thermal shirt as she pulled them awkwardly over her head. “You don’t get to tell me that my Master is doing things wrong, because you don’tknow.”

Well, fuck. Blindsided by the possessive use ofmy Master, Merrick stared at her as she angrily toed off her sneakers and yanked down her pants. When had the balance shifted so much that she felt comfortable staking her claim as his submissive?

Not that he was complaining.

BDSM was a huge part of his life, professional and personal. It was a choice he’d made, yes, but in some respects, it was a calling. One he’d still be answering when he was old and… well, he’d already got thegraychecked off, so that just leftold.

Tamsyn was a wrench in that plan.

Honestly, he’d given thought to how he could adjust his life to suit her if the lifestyle didn’t appeal to her. Alternate careers, an early retirement using the savings he’d amassed through dabbling with the stock market and placing the occasional bet on a major sports event, leaving Colorado entirely and starting somewhere fresh.

Given a choice between being a Master and being hers, she would always win.

A heavy weight lifted off his shoulders when he realized she’d chosen him—all of him, too.