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DAPHNE
Emerson passes me to Will, the movement ceremonial and considered. Like he brought me down the stairs at the beginning of all this. Valuable art has to be transported carefully. The way he spoke about art paints itself around my heart and makes it beat hard.
The way he’s letting them look at me right now—letting them touch me—makes my lungs tighten. I have to work for every breath. It’s a symbol of trust, as clear as if he’d written it out on paper.
Emerson trusts his brothers. Or at least he’s trying to trust them. Giving himself a chance, anyway. Giving them a chance, too. From the heat of the air in the room, I know this is rare. It feels like a spring thaw on one of those days when the world remembers what it’s like to be alive.
It’s so important.
I could cry.
Except I’m art right now. I’m an object to be observed and used, and someone new is touching me.
Will takes me by my wrists and pulls me gently between his legs. He sits up straighter as he draws me close.
Emerson steps away. He doesn’t go far, just to the edge of the furniture, next to Sin. He murmurs to him. I don’t know if this is part of Will’s private showing or if he’s planning something.
The thought of them planning makes my nipples pull even tighter.
“Look here, Daphne.”
I look down into Will’s eyes as his brothers talk, voices low. Will’s hands curl over the rope on my wrists like I really am priceless art. Like I really am incredibly valuable, and he doesn’t want to drop me, or smash me, or mar me in any way. Everything has a double meaning right now. It’s enough to make a girl dizzy. It’s good for me that he’s being so careful, but it’s also a true show of respect for Emerson.
Will looks back into my face, and then he turns his attention to my wrists.
He unties the rope. It’s the final piece binding me, and his touch is gentle as he removes it. I can still feel the ghost pressure at my wrists when he drops the rope to the floor. I might as well still be bound. Might as well still be in the frame, really. My heart stutters with how much I want it.
Will rubs his thumbs over the lines that the rope bit into my skin, working the blood back into my fingers. He’s thorough. He inspects each of my hands, moving each finger and thumb so that he’s sure I’m not stiff. He puts each hand in his palm and looks over the inside of my wrists.
“I’m interested in contrast, too,” he mentions, tracing his fingernail across the pink imprint of the rope on the pale flesh.
It’s real conversation, I think. “You—you make a good contrast.”
He glances up at me. “How so?”
“You’re an appreciative viewer,” I manage to say. It’s all so hot. The way they talked about me like an object. And the way Will touches me now. Reverently. Almost respectfully, even. Will massages the rope marks. It was tighter than I thought. When I struggled against the bindings, they clamped down harder on my wrists.
“You’re a beautiful piece.” He seems to make a decision, tugging me in closer, so my face is inches from his. I can’t help but be struck by Emerson’s brothers. Will’s eyes are twins for Emerson’s, but when the light changes, they look a bit more blue. And, of course, no one looks at me the way Emerson does. Will’s coming close, though, a fleeting emotion in his eyes. “Do you want this?” he murmurs.
My chest warms with a kind of relief. A kind of affection. This is the brother who would help me, if I wanted. If I said I didn’t like this game, that I wanted to stop, that I wanted to leave, he would take me out of here and damn the consequences.
He would get me out.
You’re safe, the voice in my mind announces, sounding incredulous and delighted. You’re safe here.
Will waits for my answer, his expression open. My thoughts run a little wild. What happened to Will to make him so different from Emerson? They must have experienced similar things, but the end result was a contrast, like Will said. There’s so much more to know, and it’s like a painting that’s been partially hidden from view. If Emerson’s life were a painting, his brothers would take up a lot of the canvas, I think. The past would take up even more.
I want to understand that.
The wanting is a splash of paint over my racing heart. I know Will is serious. He would help me escape.
There would be consequences, if I escaped. Not the sexy kind. I saw how serious it is for Emerson to leave his house. I felt what a threat it was. I heard the worry in Sin’s voice. They all know what Emerson risks when he’s away from home. It’s not a simple thing with Emerson. I thought agoraphobic people just didn’t like to be in large, open spaces, but I was naive. A jail cell would have the same effect as an empty field. Emerson might not survive that.
And on top of that, it would damage the relationship between the brothers.
This is new for them. Or they’ve just recently returned to each other. It’s not like it was with my brothers and sisters. We had our moments, but we were together. The tension between me and Leo is a change. A bad one.
But this moment…
