Chapter 2

I woke up to white. So white it hurt my eyes.

Not the moldy ceiling of that basement. This one was high and clean. The air didn't smell like sewage either, just that cold woody scent.

I sat straight up. Other than feeling wrung out, there was no pain anywhere in my body. I looked down at myself. Someone had put me in clean silk pajamas, and there was an IV taped to the back of my hand.

Where was I?

I pulled the needle out, stepped barefoot onto a thick wool rug, and stumbled toward the door. My hand had barely touched the handle when it opened from the other side.

Sevrin Voss was standing there. He'd changed into a black shirt with the collar open. There was a file in his hand. His eyes went straight to my bare feet, and he frowned.

"Go back. Lie down."

He didn't raise his voice. It was still an order.

"I'm leaving."

I stared him down, bristling. I didn't know this man, but I knew his type. Rich men who look at you from that far up don't pull some piece of street trash out of a basement for nothing.

Sevrin Voss didn't stop me. He actually stepped aside and cleared a path.

"Fine," he said. "Settle up first."

He tossed the file onto the glass coffee table beside him. I looked over before I could stop myself.

It was an invoice.

"The debt on that basement in the South End. Three hundred thousand. I paid it." He walked to the couch and sat down, crossing his legs. "The private medical team that came out last night, plus this penthouse suite, comes to one point two million."

Then he looked up at me like he was pricing something.

"So as of right now, Lark, you owe me one and a half million."

I stared at him for a second, then laughed.

"I never asked you to save me." The words came out through my teeth. "You'll get nothing out of me. Take my life if you want it that badly."

"Taking it would be a crime." Sevrin Voss watched me, and his voice didn't move at all. "Saving it was a transaction. That one's legal."

He took a silver pocket watch out of his pocket and checked the time.

"What you have is called Sensory Amplification Syndrome. There are three confirmed cases in the world. You're the only one still alive." He snapped the watch shut. "Every attack is worse than the one before it, and not by a little. Your next one is three minutes out."

My stomach dropped.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that without what I have, in three minutes the blood vessels in your brain rupture."

Sevrin Voss leaned back into the couch and pulled out another file.

"Sign this. Stay with me and I'll keep you alive. The one and a half million goes away."

I looked down at it. The heading said Private Care Agreement. The terms read like he was buying the entire person. Available twenty four hours a day. Absolute obedience. No leaving without permission.

"Fuck you. Not a chance."

I threw it in his face. The pages went everywhere. He didn't even move out of the way. He let the edge of one drag across the side of his face, and it didn't leave a mark. He didn't so much as blink.

"Two minutes," he said flatly.

I turned around and walked out. I would rather die on the street than be some psycho's toy.

But I'd barely made it to the elevator when that familiar, sickening tingle came crawling up my spine.

"Ngh..."

My legs went out from under me and I dropped onto the cold marble.

Here it was. Worse than last night. Much worse. It went through my skull like a rusted chainsaw.

I grabbed my head, screaming, rolling on the floor. My vision blurred out. The whole world was spinning and coming apart.

Footsteps came toward me. Not fast, not slow. Sevrin Voss stopped in front of me and looked down.

"Ten seconds."

Nothing in his voice moved at all.

I wanted to claw my own eyes out. I didn't want to die. I really did not want to die.

I reached up with a shaking hand and grabbed his pant leg.

"Help me... please..."

He crouched down slowly and took my chin between his fingers, forcing my head up.

"Please what?"

"Please... give me the drug..." I was crying by then.

The corner of his mouth moved, and then he scooped me up against him. That same scent closed around me, and the relief came with it.

I went limp in his arms, still gasping for air. One hand held me in place. With the other he spread the agreement out on the carpet and pushed a pen into my fingers.

My hand was shaking so hard I could barely hold it. The name at the bottom came out crooked, like somebody else had written it.

He spoke against my ear, very quietly.

"Remember how this feels, Lark. Because you're mine now."