“Jon.” She looked down at her hands, despairing. She wanted him so badly the need ached in her joints like a flu.

“You really pissed me off the other night. And you scared me.” When she lifted her gaze, she saw he was masking nothing. His expression reflected those volatile feelings, their aftermath. And something deeper, that came through now in the roughness of his velvet voice. “If you ever tried to hurt yourself, sweet girl, I don"t know what I"d do.” A lump formed in her throat, and she looked back down, curling her fingers together. “I didn"t mean to scare you. I should have explained more…but I was so tired, and embarrassed and surprised that you knew. That day I did that…the day the gun went off…” She sighed, closed her eyes. “You know they say women do poison or something like that, something that won"t destroy their face, because we"re vain, even in death. But at the time, all I thought was that I wanted to destroy my face, because even that wasn"t pleasurable to him anymore. Or to me. I saw a mother who wasn"t a mother, a wife who wasn"t a wife. I thought, „I"ll just destroy it all".” She shook her head. She could feel his increased concentration, the fierce emotions her words were stirring in him, but he stayed silent, let her say it. “It was soon after my son"s death, and I was…in despair. But whatever angel guided that bullet, told me I still I wanted to live.”

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her attention to his face. What she saw there—

anger, compassion, love—nearly stole her voice, but she had to say the rest. “You know what the best day of my life was? I was at the beach with my son. He was two. I played in the surf with him, sat in wet sand and dug in it with a little plastic shovel. He painted my calves with splotches of it while sand got into our swimsuits. I cherished every move, stored every laugh in my heart.” She paused, swallowing the ache. “I brought our chair down to the tide line and held him in my arms while he fell asleep against my neck, and I dozed with him, amazed that Cole and I had created this perfect thing, to house this precious little soul…”

She stopped. There was no way she could go from there to what had happened to that perfect creation, that precious soul, but fortunately Jon knew, and she could leave it. But her mind wouldn"t. She remembered Kyle"s soft baby hair, and the horrific moment at the funeral home, when his body had been delivered there in the sealed casket. She"d screamed at Cole, beaten on him because she wanted that casket opened and he didn"t. She had to see his body, no matter how mangled or decomposed, so she could stroke that soft hair from his forehead one last time. They"d both cried, even as Cole held her at arms" length, not able to bear holding her, even then.

“I know I"ll never be that happy again, I"m sure of it…” She swallowed against the far too familiar dull pain in her heart, tasting her tears on her lips. “When I finally realized that, I could accept all the rest. It didn"t matter. And I knew I"d never try to take my life again.”

Jon cocked his head, his blue eyes bright with pain for her, but his mouth set in a determined line she knew too well. “And yet, despite your acceptance of that, I not only feel your body yearning but your heart and soul as well. There"s more, Rachel. There"s more and you"re not giving it to yourself, because no mother who loses a child thinks she ever deserves happiness again.”

She shook her head, more vehemently. “There"s a rhythm, a natural energy that moves through us, a natural order, and you see it around us all the time. I feel it when I do a particularly good yoga session. But it doesn"t mean we"re special or unique in the universe, magnified under some cosmic being"s glass. It just means that life goes on, and you can make the most or the least of it. Your choice. There isn"t a grand scheme.

What you get is what you get.”

“But you haven"t chosen.” His voice was soft, but relentless. “You can"t not choose, Rachel.”

“I"m afraid of any more choices.” Her voice cracked. “I"ve made all the wrong ones.

I have to just stay…on the same track, you know?”

“Remember that day I had you close your eyes and tell me the age you always feel, no matter what you see in the mirror?” At the reluctant lift of her shoulder, he took a step into the room. “Close your eyes now. And when you do, I want you to imagine the type of woman you think would suit me best. Who do you see, Rachel?” She couldn"t resist the edge of command in his tender voice and he knew it. Just as he knew when she closed her eyes, she couldn"t see him with anyone but her. She could tell herself that merely meant her mind was being a willful child, refusing to let go of the candy the adult part of her knew wasn"t good for it. But if she tried to see him with someone else, like one of those girls at the coffee shop, it wasn"t only anger and jealousy that made it hard to envision. It felt wrong.

When she opened her eyes, he was taking a seat that mirrored her lotus position, sliding up so that his knees touched hers. Laying his hands there, palms up in invitation, he met her gaze, that powerful connection she couldn"t deny. “Close the circle, Rachel. Let the energy flow between us. You know as well as I do, when we meditate, things become clearer. Let"s go to that place together and see what we find.”

“I don"t think I can. My mind is too scattered.”

“Let"s try. Let me help.”

She gave a bitter half-chuckle. “You"re the reason it"s like that. You"re so persistent, and eventually you"ll win, but it won"t work, Jon. I"ll make you miserable, and I won"t be able to bear seeing it happen. Why don"t you understand that? Let me live my life like this, with yoga and physical therapy, and don"t make me take things to places I can"t control.”

“Lay your palms in mine, Rachel.”

She complied with a sigh, because in all truth, she couldn"t keep herself from touching him. He shifted one of his hands so her palm was the one facing up, his pressed down on it, the opposite of the other side, so they had balance in the closed circle. The heat of his flesh sent a ripple through her nerve endings, a jolt to her system as if she was an appliance that had been plugged in, brought to life. Fear constricted in her chest. He had so much power over her.

“Control is the whole point, Rachel.” His eyes locked on her face, holding her still.

“As I told you in the beginning, you need a Master who won"t let you take control. I"m him. And you can keep fighting it, but I won"t give up. When I put that collar on you the other night, you knew you were mine. It was why you tried so hard to tear it off.

Because Cole made you feel like an utter failure, and you thought you didn"t deserve what I was offering. Like a lot of other things, that ends now as well.” The steel took over now. “I"ll never allow you to think that about yourself. When you grieve for your son, I"ll give you my arms, my comfort, and I"ll grieve with you, because he"s a part of your soul, a large part of who you are. But he"s in a place where he can understand now, where his father"s disappointment and anger can"t poison him.

He knows, as I do, how much you love him. And how hard you tried to love his father.

And because he knows, and loves you, he doesn"t want you in that grave with him.” Their palms lay flat together, not gripping, yet still connected. Her gaze rested in the light clasp of his, her heart full of both uncertainty and longing, the way he so often made her feel. “It"s in yoga you found your peace,” he said in a low voice, his thumb making a gentle pass over her palm. “A way to accept the good and the bad, to have it make more sense. And as much as I enjoyed the club, this is where you need to accept me as your Master, in that delicate balance between the tragedies of the past and the possibility of your future. Breathe with me, Rachel. Just breathe with me, and let"s see what happens.”

He closed his eyes then, drawing that first deep breath, his hands loosening further so that their palms had room for some heat between them, that energy transfer. She watched him breathe, watched his chest expand, the lift and fall of his shoulders, the pulse at his throat.

His lips curved. “Close your eyes, girl, and breathe with me.” She shut her eyes and began the pranayama. As the silence settled over them, their breathing started to align, and she was sure their heartbeats would as well.

They stayed that way for some time. Though attuned to Jon"s stimulating presence, her body integrated it, made it part of the calm center the breathing was expanding inside of her. Some of the sick fear and throbbing want started to ease, to slip away. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew his presence was responsible. He helped bring her balance.

His hands left her palms, gracefully turned and curled around her wrists, a loose circle that slid back along her forearms, then forward once more as she kept her hands outstretched, both palms facing downward now, so when he came back he met them again, making them vibrate with the strip of heated space between them. Her wrists were tingling from his caress. Three more breath cycles, then he did it again. After nine repetitions, he spoke. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Using the pressure of his hands, he guided her to her feet with him. He faced her away from him, his touch falling to her waist. “Lift your hands above you, bending back toward me, arms overhead.”

She did, feeling the stretch in her spine, his shoulder beneath her head as she went into the second step of the sun salutation cycle. He slid up her rib cage, palms molding her there, holding her. “Tree pose.”

Sole of her foot pressed against the opposite thigh, knee bent, her hands adjusting to a pointed fold above her head. He took down her hair, combing it out with his fingers, and she held her balance with effort. “You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice a sensual rumble in the quiet room. “All mine.”

She trembled, but he steadied her, holding her in the pose. “Next phase. Forward fold, then to Down Dog.” When she folded forward, he was still holding her hips, fingers in the bend between hip and thigh, his body against hers. She let out a tiny sound as he pressed his groin against her through the narrow space between her legs.