I'd lost her and any chance of complete happiness I stood to have.
Looking at her, I drank in her beauty. I've lost you.
Tess shifted in my arms. "You haven't. Don't ever think that."
My eyes flared. "I didn't say anything."
Her gaze turned liquid with sadness. "You didn't have to. I know you think you've lost me. But you haven't. You never will." Her chilled body scattered with goosebumps even in the warm room. The sunlight had faded to twilight, leaving us in shadows.
"This changes nothing. I still want you to love me in your way. I need you to still take me. Promise."
My lips pulled back. "You can't be serious. I'm not going to hit you for my own pleasure. That makes me no better than everything I've run away from." I swallowed, trying to keep my heart from threading with anger. "It was different before. You wanted it. I fed off you-I lived to please you. But now … " I sucked in a breath. "Don't ask me to hurt you again, esclave, because I won't. Ever."
She shook her head, curls cascading over her shoulders. "Don't say that. I want you to. You have to believe me."
My muscles locked in incredulous anger. Imprisoning her, I glowered. "Forgive me, Tess, but everything you just said is bullshit. Your lies piss me off. I know you don't want it."
Her face went from imploring to young-so fucking young. She looked lost and afraid and on the verge of tears. The truth she'd been trying to hide burst forth. "You're right. The thought of you hurting me terrifies me. I no longer need it to feel alive. I no longer crave that bond through pain." Her eyes glassed with unshed tears. "But it doesn't mean I don't want you or need you to take me however you want. Je suis à toi, Q."
I dropped my hold, my body seizing with understanding.
That's what set me off before. That's what conjured all the rottenness from my soul.
She'd given me power over her, all the while deploring it. The mixed signals had turned her into ultimate prey.
I shoved her off me, bolting upright. Yanking my hands through my hair, I stumbled backward. "You can't do this."
Tess scrambled to her feet, spreading her hands, looking as if she calmed a beast. "I already have."
"God, Tess. Qu'est-ce qu'ils t'ont fait putain?" What did they fucking do to you?
Somehow, I'd broken the one slave I thought would be forever strong enough to defy me. Her inner spirit was gone. Her will to fight me vanished.
My wonderful Slave Fifty-Eight had turned into the one thing every cruel master wanted.
She'd willingly given me every part of herself.
Her pain.
Her sanity.
Her free will.
She sacrificed her happiness all to keep me pleased.
Fuck.
I groaned as the gross realization of what I'd lost finally crashed into me.
She was perfect.
She was mine to control.
She would never argue or say no.
She wasn't just in love with me. She believed she fully belonged and would spend her life never displeasing me or fighting back.
She was the perfect slave.
My heart raced to a dying beat. "God, Tess. What have you done?"
She couldn't have decimated me more. She'd taken all my dreams, throwing me headfirst into the dark. She'd made me become him.
She'd turned me into my fucking father.
Standing on the precipice, I visualized my future. Two paths. Two choices. One, I could accept Tess's unselfish gift and take her-become her true master forever. Or I could reject her offer and fight to get my woman back.
Take her. Accept it.
I growled as a slow burn scorched through me. Temptation. Sheer fucking temptation. It would be so easy to accept the blackness and take her as the ultimate submissive.
Too tempting. Far, far too tempting.
But by accepting, I would condemn myself to a life worse than death. I'd lose myself forever.
I'd be no better than the man I strove never to become.
I would kill her.
Tess stayed bowed at my feet; her gorgeous face glowing in the gloom. She looked like a goddess straight from another universe-sent there to see just how far I'd fall.
She was sublime. She was majestic. She annihilated me.
"Tess-" My lips wouldn't move. I wanted to tell her to snap out of whatever enactment she played. I wanted to shake her, slap her, hit her until the old fire and thrill of pleasure and pain came back into her eyes.
But I couldn't do it. I couldn't go near her-not while she stayed so open and willing at my feet. I could feel the beast inside reaching for her, snarling at the taste of fully owning her. If I let myself touch her, it would be over. She wouldn't be my wife. She would be my slave. I would never find balance again.