Chapter 41
CHAPTER 41
NORTH CAROLINA
B ryson, Kaydon, and Seth reported to the foyer promptly at six in the evening. The three of them falling into a strict routine. Three days with Eric studying and practicing amongst themselves. And typically, on the fourth day, they ran through drills with Adria.
She didn’t eat with them anymore. In fact, unless an interaction held some sort of educational value, they rarely saw her at all.
At first, Bryson reasoned that she needed time adjusting. But he watched as weeks turned to months, and as the knife marks on his body faded, it became clear that she was avoiding what had happened between them.
Her ignoring him wasn’t necessarily a new phenomenon, but she wasn’t herself with Seth or Kaydon either.
She flickered in and out like a pilot-light trying to start. They saw glimpses of her, but the flame wouldn’t hold.
The version of her that Bryson experienced in her room was gone. She said all the right words, did all the right things, looked the same way, but she wasn’t right.
She wasn’t Adria .
It was for the best, he told himself.
They were going to be sold and needed to be ready to move on.
The three of them knelt as she entered the room. Kaydon and Seth took to the training very well, but Bryson felt as robotic as Adria looked.
With their eyes on the floor, they waited for her to speak.
“Today we are going to do something new,” Adria said. “I am not going to lie, it might be difficult, even a first for some of you, but I expect you to trust me and do as I say.”
“Yes, Mistress,” the three of them said in unison.
Her heels clicked, and when she was a few paces away, she called out, “Pets, you may follow me.”
That was another thing. She never used their names. Instead, she used, pet, stallion, boy, or sub. Bryson wasn’t going to lie, it was pissing him off.
Crawling behind Seth, Bryson’s mind wandered to Elena.
She had agreed to look into their father’s motives, but they both already knew the truth. Callen had sent him here to die.
That realization sat in his chest like a stone.
And Elena—cool, calculating—had given him the best advice she could.
“Rival any of her other stock,” she had said. “Do that, and the Triune will have no choice but to leave her alone.”
That was the play.
That was the best way to ensure Adria’s safety.
So, every time he wanted to mouth off, every time he wanted to shake her after she called him pet, he bit his tongue and reminded himself.
This wasn’t about pride.
This wasn’t about revenge .
This was about staying on the board.
And right now, the game was still on.
Moving inside the very room where Adria had proven his masochism to him, Bryson noticed two drop-dead gorgeous, naked women and Regan.
“Keep moving, pet, mind your place,” Adria said.
It took a moment to realize that Adria was talking to him. Kaydon and Seth had continued on while he was kneeling, open-mouthed, into the room’s entrance.
Eyes down, he forced his limbs to move until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with his brothers.
“Eyes on me,” she said, although she didn’t look at them.
She had this annoying way of staring at their eyebrows instead of their eyes.
Bryson tried to ignore the pit forming in his stomach.
“In a few weeks, you three will be on your way to a new household. If your training continues to go well, you will have no issues being placed together,” Adria said, pacing in front of them. “Today we start getting you mentally prepared for that transition.”
She nodded, and the two girls moved.
One was a soft, curvy brunette. The other had black hair and olive skin, her features sharp and striking. Both carried an air of quiet submission.
They approached carefully, beginning with Seth. Their hands skimmed over his body, lips seeking out sensitive spots, kissing and nipping with deliberate precision. Seth’s pale skin flushed a furious pink, his breath shuddering. They worked slowly, methodically, until he was trembling beneath them.
When they finally turned to Kaydon, Seth was left raw, a bright, needy shade of pink.
Kaydon didn’t fare much better. None of them had been allowed release in weeks. Kept in a perpetual state of arousal, they were wound tight, waiting. The simplest touch was enough to light them up.
Just watching, Bryson felt heat lick at his skin.
His pulse thrummed in anticipation as the girls turned toward him, the promise of their hands hovering close?—
“Stop.”
Adria’s sharp command shattered the spell.
The girls dropped immediately, their bodies folding into a perfect submissive pose. Their obedience was flawless. Too flawless.
Where the hell had she found them?
Bryson tried not to let their seamless submission irritate him.
Adria lifted a hand. “Natalia, come here.”
The olive-skinned woman stood gracefully, stepping toward Adria. With minimal touch, Adria guided her down onto a bench, positioning her with a practiced ease.
Natalia lay back, legs bent over the edge, knees parted wide—offering herself up completely.
Adria’s fingers trailed lazily through Natalia’s dark waves, and the woman shivered under the touch. One simple caress, and the girl was trembling.
Bryson sucked in a breath.
That raw power.
It radiated from Adria, effortless and unshaken. The way she commanded submission with nothing but presence alone.
The blood in his body surged downward.
“Number three, give Natalia an orgasm.”
Bryson blinked. Number three was him, and whatever he thought she was going to say next, that was not it.
“I will not repeat myself, number three.”
He ground his teeth. Of all the nicknames, he hated that one the most.
Fuck her .
She wanted to pretend like nothing had happened. Well, two could play that game.
Getting up, he moved towards the black-haired beauty. Her breasts were full and perky, lulling only slightly to the sides. Her eyes closed.
Bryson’s heart pounded in his chest.
He had been acting like a submissive for weeks. Days of playing a role and suppressing his nature. Now, as he approached the girl, he felt like a predator waking up out of a deep sleep. When he reached her side, he waited, allowing her to feel his energy and needing to feel hers.
Bending down, he moved his nose very close to the side of her neck.
She would be able to feel him breathing and know he was close.
Brushing his nose along her throat, he breathed her in as he moved up to the bottom of her earlobe, nipping it. As expected, she yelped, but he was ready. Quick reflexes brought his hand down around her neck and jaw, holding her face still as she jumped.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes flashed open, responding to his command. His breathing quickened.
“I don’t want to hear a sound from you, understand?”
He tightened his hold on her neck, and she nodded silently. Her lip quivering when he didn’t relent his stare.
She was adorable.
“Keep your eyes on me.”
He circled around her, moving his gaze to his brothers. Seth was already in a daze, completely drunk on the scene.
Adria had done that.
Helped Seth feel more comfortable leaning into his submissive side. Kaydon shot him a wicked grin. Under normal circumstances, Bryson would have welcomed the invitation. He’d flip the girl over, expose the perfect curve of her ass, and paint her skin in pinks and purples while Kaydon worked her from below—her cries of pain bleeding into pleasure, until they became indistinguishable.
But today, Bryson had something different in mind.
His gaze slid away from Kaydon, locking onto Adria.
Her mask was there. That cold, composed expression, painted on like armor.
But she was watching.
And like it or not, she had to keep watching. For now, he controlled the board.
“Are you struggling to focus, pet?” Her voice was a low drawl, deliberately testing.
He knew better than to underestimate her—Adria was a formidable opponent. But this wasn’t about winning. This was about making her feel something.
Beneath the table, his fingers found the hidden mechanism. A sharp click, and the tabletop unlocked. With one fluid motion, he spun it. The girl gasped as she flipped, her legs spreading wide before him, her head now facing Adria.
Her breath hitched, but he didn’t spare her a glance.
His eyes were locked on Adria.
Gripping the girl’s thighs, he wrenched them open wider.
A sharp inhale—not from the girl. From Adria.
There it is.
He slapped the girl’s thigh, hard.
“Not a sound.” His voice was rough, dark with intent.
The girl trembled beneath his grip, but it wasn’t her reaction he was watching.
It was Adria’s.
And there it was—the smallest flush, creeping up her throat. A heat she hadn’t masked quickly enough.
She was turned on.
Satisfaction curled inside him, slow and predatory .
Lowering himself between the girl’s legs, he ran his tongue along the soft mound of her cunt, never breaking eye contact with Adria.
The girl shuddered beneath him, her body tightening, but Adria was the one he was devouring.
For a moment, something between them clicked—a pulse of energy neither of them could deny.
But it wasn’t enough.
He wanted more.
A dark hunger swelled inside him, not for the Natalia, but for Adria.
To make her break. To make her burn.
Natalia whimpered, and instantly, he stopped.
Her face crumpled in dismay, realizing her mistake.
Bryson smirked—slow and wicked. She knew what was coming.
Effortlessly, he flipped her onto her stomach. The air punched from her lungs in a gasp, but she made no sound.
“Face the floor.” His voice was husky, thick with command.
His body pressing against her, his cock straining through his pants. Raising his hand, he brought it down hard.
A bare-palmed smack. Sharp, biting.
The girl tensed, silent.
Another strike. And another. And another.
Her skin was blazing pink.
The tension winding inside him, electric. His hand lifted for another?—
“Time’s up.”
Adria’s voice sliced through the room like a knife.
Bryson stilled.
The fog of arousal and power fractured.
He lifted his head, eyes snapping to hers.
Her flush was gone .
The sharpness was back.
Adria stood, mask intact, utterly in control.
And just like that—she had won.
“Regan, pet number three could not make Natalia orgasm. I trust you can do better?”
Bryson moved his gaze to the almost forgotten naked man in the corner. Regan’s smile was smug.
“Than complete failure? I can do much better than that,” Regan said.
Rage coursed through Bryson.
Like hell.
“No one said shit about a time limit.”
Rough fingers ran through his hair, pulling sharply. “And who gave you permission to speak, number three?”
His gaze snapped to her, sharp and dangerous, ignoring the sting in his scalp. If she ripped out his hair, so be it.
She was pushing him.
“You’re telling me you’d rather see that guy finish her off than me?” His voice was raw, barely controlled.
Adria’s face was hard as stone.
“I want to see a real stallion do as he’s told.”
The words hit like a punch.
His breath locked in his chest, anger flashing hot and blinding.
His eyes flicked to Regan. Really looked at him this time.
Size. Strength. Stance. Measured. Weighed. Calculated.
Regan was bigger, but Bryson knew he could take him.
His body shifted, fingers twitching with the urge to move—to destroy.
To fight.
But then her hand was on him. A light touch on his cheek, barely there—but enough .
His body stilled, the fire inside him battling against the gentleness of that one, deliberate stroke.
He met her gaze, and for the first time since stepping into this room, her eyes weren’t cold.
They were soft. Serious. Unwavering.
“It is important that you and your brothers trust me.”
The words were simple, but they landed somewhere deep.
His breathing was ragged, heart slamming against his ribs. Bryson forced himself to focus, to see the bigger picture.
Killing Regan wouldn’t help.
But fuck, it would feel good .
Bryson closed his eyes for a single second, dragging air into his lungs, letting the rage simmer, settle, and finally cool.
When he opened them, Adria was stepping back.
Moving to the wall, she pulled a red ball gag from a drawer.
His stomach clenched.
He knew that gag.
The same one she had used when it had been just the two of them—when she had taken him apart piece by piece.
She dangled it between her fingers, her gaze steady. Testing. Waiting.
“What is it I need to hear right now?”
Bryson swallowed, his body thrumming with restraint.
The answer was on the tip of his tongue.
The only thing standing between chaos and control.