Prologue
Snip. The first lock of hair drifted to the tile. I brought the scissors to the left side of my head. Tears rimmed my eyes, threatening to spill over.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
My bare breasts heaved, nipples puckered.
I didn’t want to be warm. Warmth let feeling in, and I was suddenly and amazingly numb.
Besides, warmth deceived with its inherent comfort, and comfort didn’t exist in my world—not when he wanted me on my knees.
Not when he wanted a meek and pliable and obedient robot for a wife.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
The severed strands circled my feet, freeing my shoulders from the weight of the red hair he loved so much.
I couldn’t help but recognize the significance in this moment, the symbolism, and it terrified me.
It was only hair, but this rebellious act would change the tenuous dynamic we’d settled into for the past year.
This very moment was about to fracture our world and expose the guts of our lies.
Narrowing my brows in determination, I faced the reflection of the woman whose eyes lit up with something foreign. Something challenging.
Something he wouldn’t like.
This strange woman from another time—before rules and rituals and Gage Fucking Channing—was reborn as she lifted the shears and cut off the last section of hair.
Movement in the mirror drew my attention. He stood in the open doorway behind me, his posture inflexible as always. My eyes swerved to his before dropping to the belt clasped in his determined fist.
I whirled, crossed my arms, and silently threw down a challenge. A belt wouldn’t cut it this time. I knew it, and now he did too. No, on the eve of our first anniversary, Gage would have to do better than that.