Obey: 8. The Edge of a Name

The city had begun to slip into winter, a sharper wind curling around corners, a grayer light falling through windows.

Clara felt it on her skin as she stepped out of the cab and onto the curb outside his building again, the silver choker cool against her throat.

All day she’d been vibrating with anticipation. He’d promised her his name. He’d promised her the truth. Her hands had trembled over her coffee, over her phone, over the clasp of the choker as she dressed. She had told herself that tonight she would finally see him.

Inside the building, the air was warmer. Dimmer. She knocked twice, just as he’d instructed. The door opened.

He stood there as before, sleeves rolled, eyes dark. But tonight there was an edge to him, a subtle tension in his jaw, a flicker of something restless behind his gaze.

“Come in,” he said softly.

She stepped into the apartment, her pulse hammering. It smelled faintly of cedar and something darker, like smoke.

He