The candle was already burning when Elena stepped into the room for the last time. The flame was low and unsteady. Thick smoke curled from the melting wax and drifted through the air in slow gray ribbons. The light was weaker than it had ever been, painting the bed in deep gold and long black shadows. Marcus stood near the headboard with the soft black rope in his hands. He was shirtless. His jeans hung open. The thick shape of his dick pressed hard against the fabric.

“Lock the door.”