with sex, Ms. Lane. It’s a woman’s fundamental nature to be enslaved. Try to rise above it.” “Oh, it is not a woman’s fundamental nature to be enslaved!” Everywoman reared up in me, battle-ready. He turned and walked away. “You wear my brand, Ms. Lane,” floated over his shoulder, “and if I’m not mistaken, you now wear his. Who owns you? I don’t think it’s you.” “It is, too,” I yelled at his retreating back, but he was already halfway down the street, vanishing into the darkness. “I don’t wear his brand!” Did I? Exactly what had V’lane embedded in my tongue? I fisted my hands, staring after
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