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I wanted to go home.
When I got out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my dark hair and got dressed into my favorite pair of faded jeans, a long-sleeved shirt I’d worn so many times, there were holes around the sleeve cuffs, and a jersey I’d bought myself as a gift last Christmas.
Having my own clothes and photos with me made being here a little easier—at least I could make this place my home a little bit—but being back in my house would have helped so much more.
The night I’d been attacked, I’d shifted out of my clothes, and I’d left my purse with my phone behind. That was gone, but I’d asked Jane to let them bring my laptop when they’d brought my things, so I wasn’t completely shut off from the world. I’d gotten permission from Dagger—who’d brought my laptop to me himself the morning after I’d arrived—to send emails to my boss, where I’d quit my job.
Dagger had told me Braxton had taken care of the rent, so I had nothing to worry about on that front, either. My lease was up in sixty days, and then the place would be rented to someone else.
All of my things had been moved out of the rental, so I had nowhere to go, anyway. With the meager amount of money in my checking account, I couldn’t afford a new place.
My savings account was non-existent. I was truly stuck.
Everything about being owned was bizarre. I was a prisoner, but I lived in the lap of luxury. It didn’t change the fact that I was a prisoner—one that no one cared about.
No one would really notice I was gone. It was sad to admit, but the facts made it easier to deal with what was happening. No one would come looking for me. Just the thought was a downer, but I shrugged it off.
It's a good thing.
The last thing I wanted was for the few humans in my life to stumble upon the shifter world and get into the kind of danger they couldn’t protect themselves from. Even if no one was really there for me and I wasn’t close to anyone, I hated the idea of someone getting hurt.
I had to accept that this was my life now. This was my home for the foreseeable future.
I’d dried my hair and stood at the bookshelf, studying the books. They all seemed to be first editions. I ran my fingers over the spines, in awe of the collection.
Braxton seemed so cold and harsh, but he had a taste for fine things, and under that rough exterior, I had a feeling there was so much more he was hiding.
Why would he hide all of that? Why did he feel the need to own me?
A knock sounded at the door, and I jumped.
“Come in,” I called in a small voice.
When the door opened, it was Uma. I relaxed and offered a nervous smile.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. I was just looking for something to read.” I turned my attention back to the books. “They’re all first editions.”
“They are,” Uma said, nodding. “A lot of the stuff in this house is one-of-a-kind. Hauser was like that, serious about things being real for what they were, and not just a cheap copy.”
I frowned. “Hauser?”
“The former alpha.”
“Braxton’s dad,” I said.
Uma shook her head. “Not by blood, but yeah, he raised him.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Braxton was adopted?”
“Something like that,” Uma said. She pointed to the couch in front of the fireplace. “Can I sit?”
I nodded.
Jane had built a fire early in the morning when I’d still been sleeping. She did that every day. The first time, I’d woken up, but the domestic worker always hummed when she worked, and it reminded me of my foster mom. I didn’t mind her being in and around my room—I was starting to get used to it.
“I was raised by a foster family, too,” I said.
