Free Tender Mercies by Kitty Thomas Page B

because you’re grateful and because you trust me. I don’t care how long it takes us to get to that point. But we will get there.”

    ***

    Grace was still processing everything he’d said. Part of her wanted to trust every word, but every time one part of her mind tried to let her, another part chastised her for being so stupid and falling into what must be a trap. What would happen to her when she couldn’t give him everything like he’d just said she would?
    She’d gone back to looking at the floor because it felt safer than trying to figure out what was going on behind those stormy blue eyes of his. She knew he was watching her, assessing, cataloging, trying to figure something out. She could feel his stare on her.
    “Is there someone you’d like to call?”
    Her eyes snapped up. “Call?”
    He took a cell phone out of his pocket. “Surely you have family or friends back home you’d like to speak to. Someone you miss?”
    Why was he doing this? Why was he dangling these carrots? “Please don’t do this . . .” She just wanted him to be however he was going to be. No games. No pretending. If she let herself believe in this and then he took it away . . .
    He arched a brow. “Don’t do what? Don’t let you call someone? Don’t be decent? Tell me what you want, in plain speech. I don’t need a title this second. Just tell me exactly what it is that you most want right now.”
    She took a breath. “Just be real. This sl . . . I . . . I can’t do this again. I can’t believe in something that isn’t a nightmare only to have it torn away again. Please, please, just be real. Keep me in the dungeon or beat me or whatever it is you want, but don’t pretend to be kind.”
    The look he gave her was so far outside her recent experience that she didn’t know how to categorize it, at least not on any face but her own on the few occasions she’d made the mistake of looking at her reflection in Lucas’s dungeon. She shut her eyes tight, to block out the look he gave her.
    Grace startled when hands closed around her arms.
    “Look at me,” he commanded.
    She opened her eyes. His expression was fierce, but it didn’t seem angry. Not like what she’d seen that morning when he’d stepped into the dungeon. The thought came over her suddenly that maybe he hadn’t been angry at her at all. Maybe it was something else.
    “I am real. This room is real. The breakfast you just ate is real. None of this is a game or a trick. I know you don’t believe that yet, but you will believe it in time. Now do you have someone you want to call?”
    “No, Master.”
    He let go of her and sat on the sofa. “You have no family or friends?”
    “My brother is a drug addict. I worked a lot of hours, so I just had one good friend, Lainey.”
    “So call her.”
    “She tried to convince me not to come here. I couldn’t . . . I can’t . . .”
    He nodded. “You don’t have to explain. I think I understand. How about the Internet? Could you email or instant message her?”
    She thought about it. “I think so.”
    Asher stood and extended a hand. She tentatively put her hand in his and allowed herself to be led across the hall. His room was opposite from hers in every way. Whereas hers was bright and colorful and inviting, his was dark and intimidating.
    The walls were done in rich, dark wood paneling. Heavy drapes blocked the light from the windows. He crossed the floor and pulled the thick fabric back to let the sunlight in. A king-sized bed stood against one wall. The headboard consisted of metal bars, perfect for chaining someone down.
    In another life, standing in a room with such an attractive, dominant force of a man, she would have fantasized about him chaining her to the bed and having his wicked way with her. Now the thought scared her. She’d experienced too much real pain and fear to see it as a sexual game anymore. And yet her body still perversely responded.
    There was a small desk on one side of the room and a