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why did I want that so badly? I’d never wanted anything like it before, yet when Talon said those words, all I could think about was being filled in a way I’d never experienced before.

Before I knew what was happening, Rolphe was gone, and Talon had flipped our positions, his big body covering me as he ruthlessly fucked me. I stared up into his beautiful face, saw more heat than I’d ever seen glittering in his nearly black eyes.

“Mine,” he rumbled seconds before he came.

His orgasm triggered another, and I cried out his name, my arms wreathing his neck as I held on for dear life.

THIRTY-NINE

Monday, January 18, 2021

Braelyn

The following Monday, I was in my new office, typing up the notes from Talon’s morning meeting, adding items to my to-do list to ensure I followed up in a timely manner, when the phone on my desk rang.

I glanced at the small screen. It wasn’t coming from an internal extension, and I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered politely.

“Miss Bishop, this is Neil Sandoval, returning your call.”

I tried to place the name but couldn’t. I’d spent last week following up on a few things, but I could not recall contacting anyone with that name, although I had reached out to several Owners from a list that Talon wanted follow-ups on.

“My apologies, Miss Bishop. I’m actually returning your call to Gwyneth Mills. I’m the attorney handling her estate. I’m sorry to say but she has passed away.”

My throat suddenly tightened with a grief I had no business feeling. The woman wasn’t mine to mourn, yet that had always been something I had a difficult time dealing with.

I took a moment, cleared my throat. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Sandoval. If it’s possible, could I please speak to”—I glanced at the notes I’d made for Ms. Mills—“Jones?” That was the name the possession had taken, or at least that was what had been noted in the file.

“Actually, he’s…” Mr. Sandoval cleared his throat. “He’s no longer employed by the Mills family.”

No longer employed? What the hell did that mean?

“Could you please provide me with a number where I could reach him?”

“You’re in luck,” he answered, sounding pleased. “I’ve put him up in a motel for the week. After that, he’s on his own.”

I swallowed the response I wanted to make and offered a polite “Thank you” instead.

Mr. Sandoval rattled off the phone number.

“Thank you,” I repeated. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

I disconnected, needing a minute to breathe. Not wasting any time at all, I dialed the number he’d provided.

“Hello?” I said into the phone when I heard someone answer.

There was no response.

“Jones?”

Only a soft breath on the other end of the line.

“Jones, my name is Braelyn. I work for Owned, Incorporated. I need you to speak so I know you’re there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly, as though he wasn’t used to speaking.

Considering Talon’s own possessions didn’t speak, I wondered if maybe that was the case with him.

“Jones, I understand your Owner has passed away?”

A soft sniffle sounded.

“I’m so sorry,” I told him, keeping my voice low. “So very sorry for your loss.”

According to the notes in the file, Jones had been with his Owner for nearly four years. Meaning he would’ve been one of the first who’d been brought to Sapphire Island and placed.

“I need to know that you’re all right. Can you tell me that?”

“I am. Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you have a place to go? After you leave the motel?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Okay. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to hang up with you because I need to speak to Talon. You remember Talon, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Once I speak to him, I’m going to call you right back. Stay where you are, okay? Answer the phone when I call.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I hated disconnecting, because he sounded as though he was in terrible pain. Emotionally at least, and I had to wonder what he was doing to cope with the loss of the most important thing in his life. It angered me that he’d been cast out of his home, placed in a motel. Although, I probably should’ve been grateful they’d had the decency to do that much.

“Ten minutes, Jones,” I repeated.

I hung up, then bolted up from my desk. I headed straight for Talon’s office only to find he wasn’t there. I backtracked, pausing at Zion’s office. From the doorway, I could see him typing away.

“I hate to bother you,” I said, clearly interrupting.

Zion lifted his head, motioned me inside.

I couldn’t help it, I hesitated, taking one small step forward then peeking into the room. Specifically, at the wall where Micah had been shackled that one time. To my relief, there was no possession hanging on the wall.

Zion must’ve found amusement in my actions because he smiled. “All clear, Miss Bishop.”

“Do you know where Talon is?”

“I believe he’s at the resort talking to Ransom.”

“Okay, thanks.” I spun around to leave.

“Is something wrong?” he called after me.

Figuring he might have an answer that would save me time, I turned back. “Actually, yes. I was following up with an Owner … a Gwyneth Mills.”

He leaned back in his chair, grinned. “I remember Ms. Mills, sure.”

“She’s dead,” I blurted.

His face sobered. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I waved him off. “I was able to track down her possession. She referred to him as Jones. He’s been turned out by the family, temporarily placed in a motel by their attorney.”

Zion frowned.

“The man was decent enough to put him up for a week, gave me the number. I talked to him. Jones. The possession.”

Zion nodded for me to continue.

“What do you do in instances like this?” I asked. “You know, when an Owner dies or is otherwise incapable of taking care of their possession.”

Yes, even as I spoke, it all sounded like a foreign language to me.

He shook his head, sat up straight. “To my knowledge, we haven’t had this happen before.”

“But surely you’ve prepared for it, right? I mean, that’s why we

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