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swung open, so fast it almost gave me a black eye. I gasped, jumping backwards, but Tate's hand was already tight around my wrist. Dragging me forward. Dragging me in.
    This isn't who I am.
    This isn't me.
    This is not happening.
    This is not my life.
    He was pulling the door behind him, but again, not all the way closed. Just ajar. I whimpered, but he just twisted my arm harder, pulling me close, only to throw me down on a chaise lounge that lurked in the corner opposite his bed. I only had a moment to be galvanized by the radiating heat of his body, before it was abruptly ripped away.
    "You're hurting me," I whispered, furtively rubbing my sore wrist.  
    Tate's eyes bored through me, to my very fucking soul.  
    "No, I'm not," he growled. "Not yet."
    He was slightly disheveled, in dark gray slacks and a white tee-shirt, but he still managed to look like he'd stepped out of the pages of a fancy magazine. One of those ones I used to find in old rubbish piles, and I'd page through, wistfully, trying to remember a time when those things mattered.
    I tried to swallow, my eyes as wide as saucers. Why was I so focused on his fucking outfit , while his eyes glinted murder? Maybe it was just my mind trying to escape the confines of this utter insanity. Focus on anything but him.
    "You like watching people?" he demanded, prowling to the opposite corner of the room. I ought to have felt safer, but oddly, I didn't.
    My eyes drifted over to the door. He still hadn't shut it. He didn't seem overly concerned with the idea that I might just jump up and run.
    Where would I go?
    A damn good question.  
    "I was just..." The words caught in my throat, and I struggled a bit before I could continue. "...curious."
    "Curious!" A harsh laugh. Tate raked a hand through his still-damp hair. " Curious . Wanted to see what kind of man couldn't even buy a woman to fuck? Why on earth Stoker would pity me enough to send me one as a gift?" His eyes flashed. "Curious what kind of horrible deformity I must have?"
    The thought hadn't even crossed my mind.
    "No," I insisted. "I just..."
    It was no use. I couldn't even rationalize it to myself, let alone give him an explanation that he'd accept. His mouth was twisted into a bitter smile as he paced the room from end to end, almost like he was measuring it with his mind.  
    "If you wanted to see it, all you had to do was ask." His tone was sarcastic and mocking. "I wouldn't have thought Stoker could turn you into a degenerate sex fiend in the space of a few days, but I suppose stranger things have happened."
    I still didn't know what he was driving it, but I had the horrible feeling he was about to accuse me of something. Something I wouldn't be able to defend myself against.  
    "I'm not," I said, my voice growing fainter by the moment. "I just wanted...I just heard the noise and I..."
    "Of course." He finally stopped, turning on his heel to stare at me. I shivered, drawing my knees up my chest, as if they could protect me. "You're a curious little pussycat, aren't you?"
    A flare of heat went through my body, and I hated myself a little more.
    "That is, naturally, what they're hoping for," he said. "I'll grow attached to you. Like my little pet. My kitten. And then, when the time is right..." Suddenly, he took a few rapid steps towards me, and I couldn't stop myself from flinching.  
    "Tell me," he commanded. "Tell me what the plan is. Or keep lying, it's your choice - but if you do, I promise I won't make this easy for you."
    "The...plan?" I swallowed with difficulty. "What plan?"
    "Fine. Have it your way." His smile was sub-arctic. He made a gesture with his hand, palm up, like he was giving an order to a dog. "Up."
    I stood, slowly, my legs trembling beneath me.
    From the look in his eyes, there was no question what was about to happen.
    "I thought you didn't want me." My voice sounded so thin, so threadbare, that I wasn't even sure why I bothered speaking.
    A single harsh laugh. "No. But you're here. So