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I wasn’t sure what sort of slave I expected my Master to have. Maybe deep down I already knew. I definitely wasn’t surprised as a tall, tanned brunette clumsily walked from the bedroom, holding to his arm. With as beautiful as she was, she could have been Miss America. A model. She could have been on the arm of the most gorgeous man in the world by choice , and perhaps she was. She didn’t appear afraid. If anything, the way her head leaned against his bicep, I would have guessed that she adored him. They looked like a cute couple. So…why had he bought me? He said she was sick, but I’d seen who was lined up before me. I knew how much a few of the ones sold for. They didn’t compare to what my Master paid, and their looks blew mine out of the water. They were like her. Perfect. That wasn’t me.

“Eight-forty-two, this is Mae. Mae, meet eight-forty-two.”

“Your name. Almost like mine,” I breathed out. “It’s nice to meet you, Mae.”

A tear raced down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with shaky hands.

“It’s nice to meet you too, eight-forty-two.”

“Almost like you? What do you mean?

I almost couldn’t speak through the range of emotion that played across my Master’s face. There were plenty of men more handsome, but aside from looks, he made up for it with his aura. It alone was the perfect mix of gentleman and monster. Dominant yet genuine. He terrified me as much as he intrigued me with his sad, green eyes. They looked at me expectantly. Almost beggingly. For what, I wasn’t sure. He needed something. Maybe it was as simple as my life. My blood. The horror stories were making their way around the cells, and I wasn’t sure how much of them were true. But he had a slave still. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t…healthy or in good spirits, either. I wasn’t sure how to take that as he waited for me to answer.

“I had a lot of nicknames throughout my life. Mae-Mae, Mags, Mag-pie. Margie.”

“Mags?” He repeated, almost breathless.

“My name is Margaret.”

“Maggie.”

“No one ever called me that, surprisingly.”

The slave clutched to his black shirt, collapsing in his arms. He hardly seemed to notice as he scooped her up behind her knees to cradle. Still, he couldn’t erase the haunting look that turned to horror as he gazed deep into my depths. Maybe for a second, I thought him incapable of the nightmares that were whispered, but I was wrong. He could have snapped my neck, and I wouldn’t have been surprised. He looked at me like a dreaded ghost. Like vermin he wanted squashed. Like…a mix of both hate and hope, and it wasn’t a good thing.

“I have to take her to bed. Follow me.”

The tone was suddenly harsh. My Master spun, heading back for the room. My feet didn’t want to work, but I forced myself to follow, swallowing hard as I paused in the threshold. Where I expected him to put her in the large bed that sat centered at the back wall of the room, he didn’t. He headed to the side, walking into one of two doors. When he came out without Mae, he gestured to the entrance not feet away from the slave’s room.

“Shower. I already laid out your clothes. I’ll get out your blankets.”

As he disappeared out of the bedroom, I quickly headed for the bathroom, shutting myself inside. The size of the room was larger than I had expected. A tub was off to the side. There was nothing special about it. It was the marble walk-in shower that took up the entire back wall that had me nearly gawking. I turned, going to lock the door, only to see there was no lock.

“Shit.”

My eyes closed through the slight let-down, but I forced myself to the counter to take in the clothes. Again, not special. It was a pale blue cotton nightgown with sleeves. As I held it up, it reached to my knees. Basic white cotton panties were also set out for me. I was good with this. Clothes were clothes, and it covered a lot more than the sheer, blue robe I wore.

“Ten minutes, slave.”

I jumped at the voice that came through the door, looking between the barrier and the shower. Ten minutes and then what? He’d come in?

I didn’t wait to find out as I unfastened the robe and placed it in a hamper along the wall. As I carried my towel to the hook by the shower and got in, I couldn’t force away all the what-ifs and fears. The only conclusion that I could come to so far was that I was safer than a lot of other women who’d been sold tonight. That was, if the stories were true. They might not be. All the training and classes could all be a ploy to try to get us to behave. Did I want to test that theory? Absolutely not.

Water poured over me like rain, and I lost myself in the warmth. Not enough to push my limits on time, but enough to calm myself as I went through the routine of washing my body and my hair. The need to break down was there. To cry and cry after what felt like years of rules and preparation for this moment. Had it been that long? The fact that my hair used to be a few inches over my shoulders told me it had to have been. It was almost to my elbows now. To me, it showed time. Time I’d lost with loved ones. With friends and…just…life. Everything was gone. All I had now was him. My Master.

I turned off the water, walking over and grabbing my towel to dry off. My lip quivered, but I held in the emotions as I put on my clothes. By the time I finished going to the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I could barely control the sob that kept trying to force its way free. The crying could wait. This night wasn’t over, and I wouldn’t let myself relax until it was. It was going to take days to see how it all would play out, and I couldn’t risk dropping my guard for a second. Weakness wouldn’t win with these evil men who bought us. They were here for a reason. Money…definitely, but that was just their ticket in. They wanted something from us that they couldn’t get anywhere else, and Mae was sick. From what? That’s what I needed to figure out.

Slowly, I walked to the door, pulling it open. My Master paused by his bedside table, watching me as I eased out. He was only wearing a pair of dark blue pajama pants. He was all lean muscle and in decent shape. Seeing his body just reassured me how much stronger he was. And tall. He appeared so much taller without clothes. And threatening. Definitely that as he started to glare.

“Let’s cut through the bullshit. I’m not going to be played. If you’re honest, you won’t get in trouble. I know Elec set this up. It seems impossible, but I know him. He’d want me to be happy. He’d want me to feel the connection and be okay with this.”

“I’m sorry?”

Confusion had me holding tighter to the doorknob as I stayed in place.

“Your name. You’re lying about it. Elec told you to say that.”

“Elec? Master, I don’t know who?—”

I could barely move before a growl tore from his throat and he was lunging towards me. I spun, but he quickly scooped me up around the waist.

“You’re lying. He did this.”

“I don’t know who that is!” I twisted myself in the crushing hold, managing to slip down the smallest amount, but it only had him shifting his hold to pull me up even more. I hit the bed hard, but not him. His hand locked around my neck, squeezing as he leaned in over me.

“ Admit it. The Main Master put you up to this. He either told you to pretend to be her, or he convinced you with his brainwashing-shit that you’re Maggie.”

“I’m not.” My head shook as the tears I’d kept in for what felt like years escaped. “I’m not Maggie. I’m not Margaret. I’m no one.” I squeezed into his wrist with both of my hands as my head pushed hard into the mattress. “No one told me anything. I’m a slave. I’m no one. Eight-forty-two.” The last came out as air as my voice gave out from the pressure. “Please. No one.”

Deep breaths left him.

“I’m not Maggie. I’m not.”

All I was doing was mouthing words as my lips went numb and tingled. There was so much pressure in my face that my eyes felt like they were going to pop at any moment. Just as darkness dotted in, I was gasping and choking on oxygen.

“You’re not Maggie. You’ll never be Maggie; do you hear me?”

“I’m not,” I cried, sobbing through the confusion of what the hell was happening. “I’m no one. Eight-forty-two.”

The Master loomed over me. With the wildness in his eyes, I wasn’t sure whether he was coming back to finish me off, or if he was going to let me go. His expression softened and he blinked through thoughts that had him making another deep sound. Panic had me too terrified to move. One wrong decision, and he’d come back after me like a rabid dog. I couldn’t afford that if I wanted to live.

“I’m eight-forty-two. Please. Can I go to my bed now?”

“No.”

“What’s your middle name?”

My head quickly shook.

“Middle name.”

“A-Anne.”

He let out a long breath, collapsing to sit on the edge of the bed, away from me. Time stretched out as he didn’t speak.

“Last name.”

“…Leeman.”

“Fuck.” Another long breath. “You’re not Maggie.”

“No.”

“Your name really is Margaret. But you’re not her.”

“No.”

I kept quiet as more time passed.

“It’s so ironic, this need I have.” He turned to face me. “You’re not her. I don’t want you to be her. Yet, that’s exactly why I have you here. How does it even make sense?”

There were no words I could say. I was torn between remaining as still as possible or racing for the door. My legs itched to jump into action. Everything in me was screaming to go. The slave part of me couldn’t, and I didn’t understand it any more than why my Master wanted me to be another woman.

“You don’t look like her. No one’s come close. Yet…you’re…different somehow. I look back at old photos and she’s such a stranger to me. I don’t really know her, either, but everything I remember says she’s my reason to breathe. My reason to live. She made promises ,” my Master said, slicing his gaze over to me. “She said she loved me. I loved her. Yet…she chooses him? Marries him? Gives him what she was supposed to give me? Maybe over time I could have accepted it. I think I was starting to with the new baby coming. But for her to die in that car accident.” He paused. “I thought getting revenge on Jake would have ended this.” His head shook as he stared ahead. “Nothing ended. I didn’t get my revenge. The son of a bitch killed himself after marrying Kayla. Just…fucking dead. Just like Maggie. Dead. Both of them. And do you know what’s left behind, slave?”

Green eyes were piercing as my Master turned to me.

“I don’t know.”

“ Me. My fucking misery is what’s left behind. No Maggie. No heir. No revenge. Nothing but emptiness and sick, twisted rage. Abandonment issues; I’d fucking say so. You wouldn’t happen to have a cure for this bullshit dilemma I’m suffering through, would you, shrink?”

Somehow, I managed to ease myself into a sitting position. The Master’s words stirred no sympathy in me. Not when it was obvious he’d bought me as his cure, and it hadn’t worked with any of the other slaves yet. But that only had me questioning exactly what the cure was.

“You smell like alcohol, and I don’t think that’s the answer. Why is your slave sick?”

He sat taller on the bed as he continued to stare into oblivion.

“Go to bed, Margaret. It’s safer there. Safer than here. Soon, you’ll see that dreams are the only place we’re truly free.”