Page 85 of Kotori
"Are you sick?" Kohana asks with gentle concern, studying my face with uncomfortable perception. "You seem different."
Different. Because I am different. Because two nights ago I learned exactly what I am—a woman who craves her owndegradation, who gets off on being owned by the man who stole her life.
"Just tired," I lie, opening today's lesson plan with fingers that still aren't quite steady. "Shall we practice pronunciation?"
But I can't concentrate. Every time I try to focus on irregular verbs or grammar structures, my mind drifts back to the festival. To the sound he'd made when I'd admitted I was his. To the way my body had clenched around him like it was trying to keep him inside forever.
To how perfectly it had felt to surrender completely.
"Paige-sensei?" Mizuki's sharp voice cuts through my distraction. "I asked you a question."
Heat flames across my cheeks. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"
She studies me with those dark eyes that see too much, inherited intelligence that misses nothing. "I asked if you were feeling well enough to teach today. You seem distracted."
Distracted. By the memory of begging my captor to fuck me harder. By the shameful knowledge that I'd do it again in a heartbeat if he gave me the chance.
"I'm fine," I say firmly. "Let's continue."
The sliding door opens, and my breath stops completely.
Kaito enters with that fluid grace that makes every movement look deliberate, wearing an impeccable charcoal suit that emphasizes his shoulders and the controlled power in his posture. When his dark eyes find mine, I see quiet, devastating satisfaction at the sight of me struggling to function after what he did to me.
What we did together. What I begged for.
He knows exactly what state I've been. He's enjoying watching me fall apart. Which, I can only assume, is why he hasn't called me to his room since.
"Otou-san!" Aya bounces slightly in her seat. "Paige-sensei is teaching us new vocabulary words!"
"Is she?" His voice carries that controlled warmth he uses with his daughters, but underneath I hear something else. Something that makes my core clench with need and self-loathing. "How wonderful. I thought I might observe today's lesson."
Observe. Like I'm a specimen in a cage, performing for his amusement while I fight not to throw myself at his feet and beg him to touch me again.
He settles at the back of the room, close enough that I can feel his presence like heat against my spine. Every word I speak, every movement I make, is being catalogued with the same attention he used to study my face when I'd admitted I belonged to him.
"Continue, Paige-san," he says quietly. "Don't let my presencedistractyou."
The way he says "distract" makes clear he knows exactly how his presence affects me. How the memory of his hands on my skin makes it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. How I've spent two days hating myself for wanting more.
I struggle through twenty minutes of lessons while he watches with that predatory patience that strips away every pretense of dignity. The girls participate enthusiastically, but I catch Mizuki glancing between us with growing understanding in her dark eyes. She's too smart not to sense something has changed. Too perceptive not to notice how carefully I'm holding myself, how his presence makes my voice shake despite my efforts to stay professional.
"Excellent progress," Kaito says when the lesson concludes. "Girls, please continue with your independent reading. I need to discuss curriculum adjustments with Paige-san."
Curriculum adjustments. My stomach clenches with anticipation and terror in equal measure.
His daughters file out with polite bows, but Mizuki pauses at the door. For a moment, she looks like she wants to say something. Maybe ask if I'm okay, maybe voice whatever suspicions she's harboring. Then she catches sight of her father's expression and thinks better of it.
The door slides closed with devastating finality.
We're alone.
The silence stretches between us while he studies me with the same thoroughness he used that night when I was pressed against the tree, vulnerable and desperate beneath him. I can feel his gaze notice the careful way I'm sitting, the way I can't quite meet his eyes, the tremor in my hands that won't disappear.
"How are you feeling this morning, kotori?" he asks with mock concern.
The pet name makes liquid heat pool between my legs despite everything. Despite my shame, despite my self-hatred, despite the two days I've spent hating myself for being so fucking weak.
"Tired," I whisper.
