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Moonlight streaks across my vision as I spin, spin, and spin on this nightmarish merry-go-round of my twisted mind. Cold sweat breaks out on my back as my pulse scatters in my veins. My calves scream in pain, my toes swollen in my pointe shoes, but I don’t stop.

I. Can’t. Stop.

I can’t stop. I can’t stop. I can’t stop.

The image on my phone is seared into my mind. I can’t get it out. I can’t get rid of the feeling of ants crawling on my skin, of black grime sticking to me.

Fifty-five. Fifty-Six. Fifty-seven. The twirls continue. They are chaotic, sloppy, but I don’t care. Because if I stop, I’ll need to take another shower again. I’ll have to find more needles to poke myself.

But I’ve already tried that—my usual coping strategies aren’t working.

I thought I was over this. I thought I got better. I thought I was healed. I thought the past was in the fucking past!

A manic chuckle rips out of my throat. What will the girls think of me now?

The Taylor Peyton they thought they knew died a long time ago.

What will they think of this impostor? Are they disgusted with me? Will they leave me just like Camden and Alexis did?

Flashes of the ruined baby shower slam through my mind.

Grace’s eyes widened in horror after she scrambled out of her chair to reach my side as I heaved onto the floor. The girls immediately rushed over to see if I was okay as my world obliterated around me. I remember seeing Lana’s horrified face when she picked up my phone from the floor and saw the photo before handing it to Grace.

Dismay crossed my sister’s face. Millie had her hand over her mouth. Olivia looked at me in pity.

It’s over.

I can’t hide anymore.

Everyone knows.

And unless I stop investigating, give up on finding out what happened that night to get closure and to put the bastards away, whoever this asshole is will leak the photos to the press.

Then the whole world will know. My career, my life…everything will be over.

I snatched the phone from the girls and ran out the door, my mind in a daze. I don’t remember how I ended back up at ABTC. The first thing I did was to take a scalding shower and stab myself with a needle from my locker. It didn’t work.

Nothing is working. The panic won’t recede, but is spewing out instead—a cataclysmic volcanic eruption I can’t stop.

Ballet. I’m ballet. Ballet is me. The pain and control I have as Taylor the ballerina…it’s my last ditch effort.

Stop thinking. Stop it.

“You’ll never be rid of me, Fly Harriet,” the monster whispers before chuckling.

“She’s going to come, isn’t she? Enjoying your first cock?”

“No!” I shriek and fall to the ground.

My pulse riots in my veins and every muscle inside me protests as I stagger back up and throw myself into the fouetté turns again. Black swan. Odile. I’m the best Odile. I can be better.

Tears streak down my face as I hurl myself into more spins. Higher. Faster. My muscles cramp and tear, agony searing into me, but I don’t stop.

“I’m Taylor fucking Peyton-Anderson, badass ballerina, and you won’t beat me!” I holler at the darkness.

Suddenly, powerful arms snake across my waist and haul my body off the floor.

The monsters in my nightmare are here again. I won’t let them take me. I’ll die before I let them steal from me again.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream, my fists punching and legs kicking, hitting the beast behind me. A few deep oomphs reach my ears, the madness teeming in my blood, but I don’t stop.

A hand clasps my chin tightly and I feel the monster’s arm banding me flushed against his chest.

“Minx, minx. It’s me. It’s me. You’re safe. You’re always safe.”

My heart throws itself against my rib cage, bloodied and battered. I finally make out the deep, raspy voice, the firm muscles I know intimately, the familiar notes of bergamot and cedarwood in the air.

Charles.

Sobs tear out of my throat, the manic phase of my mind quickly devolving into depression—a bottomless dark abyss. I’m sinking into the turbulent ocean, drowning under the moonless skies.

“I got you, minx. I always have you,” he chokes out as he curls me tighter against him. I feel his lips on my cheeks, my hair, my eyes, and I realize my face is wet with tears.

“Ph-Photos…there are photos,” I whisper as I turn around and bury my face against his chest. His rioting heartbeats are loud in my ear. “Th-They know. Everyone knows.”

“Shhh…I got you,” he rasps over and over again. “I’ll find the bastard. I’ll stop him. Fuck, when I find him, he’ll wish he were never born.”

Tremors rush through my body as I cry in his embrace. Chaos has taken over my mind, my pulse clamoring inside me, my breathing quickening as black dots form my vision. I can feel the monster’s touch on my body again. His weight. His sounds. His words.

His fucking scent of peppermint.

Desperate, I grab at Charles’s arms. I need to forget. I need more. I need everything.

“Charles? P-Please…Please…”

He tightens his grip on me, his eyes burning with anger and anguish. “What do you need? Please tell me what you need.”

“I need to forget.” I shake my head vigorously. “I f-feel him…them. I don’t want it. I need to forget it all. I need to get out of my mind!” I claw at his arms, my nails digging deeper as a fleeting thought takes root in my head.

Arching up to look at him, I whisper, “D-Didn’t you say you want to teach me pain can be pleasurable? Teach me. Make me feel pain. Get me out of my head!”

Charles stills, his muscles tensing. His eyes flare, and a muscle tics on his forehead. “What?”

The idea sounds better to me by the minute. Yes, this is what I need.

“What you did at The Sanctuary. I want to try it. I need it, please .”

A muscle pulses in his jaw. “A responsible Dom won’t start anything with a sub when she’s emotional. There are conversations to have. I need to know your hard limits, soft limits. We need to have safe words. I need to walk you through the process, the aftercare. BDSM isn’t something to try when you’re feeling this way, Tay.”

He’s rejecting me.

Somehow, the thought causes panic to seize my chest again. Is he regretting having a fuck up like me as a girlfriend?

I shake my head. “Please,” I beg him. “Please save me from myself. From the monsters, please!”

A few seconds of tense silence passes by, his sharp eyes trained on my face like he’s reading every single fear in my mind. “Are you sure? I need you to think through this. This can be triggering. Intense.”

The rioting voices in my mind quiet for a few beats—long enough for me to consider his words. I need this and I trust him.

Nodding, I rasp, “Yes. I am sure. I need this. Please, Charles.”

He intakes a sharp inhale and sets me in front of him before backing up a few steps.

“We won’t do anything hard or intense. Only light BDSM. Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” His eyes darken and I see a chill befall his features.

He’s becoming the Dom I saw that night at The Sanctuary.

A burst of relief floods me. He’s going to do this. He’s going to get me out of my mind.

I nod eagerly.

“Whenever we’re in a scene, you’ll call me Sir. Is spanking, pinching, biting okay for you?”

My pulse careens off a cliff. “Yes.”

“Light breath play? Degradation?”

I swallow. “Yes to all of it.”

Charles nods and takes off his suit jacket. His hands slowly unknot his tie before he drops it on the floor. Then he shucks his shirt, baring all his rippling muscles. A new sultry heat fires up my insides as I see the thick veins rippling on his forearms.

His eyes are intent on mine as he says, “Red is stop. Yellow is slow down. Green is continue. Repeat after me. I need to trust you will remember them.”

I focus on his words and repeat them. He stares at me for a few seconds—a sharp assessment.

“Good. If you can’t speak, pinch anywhere on my body and I will stop right away. Is that clear?”

“Y-Yes.”

His eyes are dark like the night skies outside. “Yes, what?”

A shiver tremors through me. “Yes, Sir.”

Charles’s eyes flash, a dangerous gleam reflecting at me. “I’m going to ask you again. Are you sure you want to do this right now?”

I back up slowly, an automatic reaction, until my back hits the bar on the wall. My pussy pulses as he stalks toward me, every inch the alpha male I glimpsed at the club. My skin heats, my breasts grow tender. I want to rub my thighs together to relieve the ache building inside me.

Quick exhales escape my lips. I need him, all of him, including his sadistic side right now. “Yes, I need this.”

His lips twitch, his eyes darkening.

“Good. Now kneel.”