Chapter Eight
Killian
Lyra sleeps like the dead. My poor Little Bird is so tired, she doesn’t even protest when I pull her into my side.
In stark contrast, I lie awake, staring at her.
My mind works at a million miles per second as I consider every variable of my predicament.
I have to protect her, knock her up, and find a way to get back in The Eyes’ good graces.
There are many paths set before me, and almost all of them lead to certain destruction, but there could be a narrow—very narrow—way through.
Having Lyra beside me as I plot has a remarkable effect on me. The fog of fear and anger that’s served as a dark damper on my mind the last several months dissipates entirely, and I get to see clearly again. More, I get to see with color again.
Her chest rises and falls at an even, steady rhythm. Her eyes occasionally flutter, dark eyelashes fanning her cheekbones. I could watch her like this, calm and restful, forever—but I need to start making moves now if I want to survive the coming storms.
After a couple hours, I slip out of bed and go into my office. Lyra’s not getting out of the apartment without my say-so, so I don’t worry that she’ll get away. If she tries, it’ll only give me an excuse to show her what happens when she decides to be naughty.
I recline in my office seat, pull out my phone, and place a call. Six rings pass before the line goes live, and Carter’s irritated voice fills the room.
“I’m busy. What the fuck do you want?” he snarls.
I gaze at my lit-up computer monitor. “Clear your schedule. We need to talk.”
“No.”
“You can stalk Annalise later,” I say, rolling my eyes.
A long pause ensues. “Are you fucking tailing me?”
“No, I’m making an educated guess. Good to know I’m right.” I run a hand through my hair. “Five minutes of your time. That’s all I need.”
“Fuck,” he sighs. “What’s next, a blowjob? I’ll have you know, my taste runs toward the fairer sex—”
“Why haven’t you joined The Eyes?” I ask. “Are you holding them at bay until they’re willing to negotiate and give you more?”
Carter sighs. “I refused because they’ll try to tell me what to do, and I don’t play nice with others. Historically, people who try to command me end up dead.”
How very appropriate. “I see. And the benefits they’ll bring—money, connections, prestige—”
“Are worthless to me. I have more money than I can spend in the next several lifetimes, my prestige is that people would rather die than face me, and I have all the connections I need. Any other stupid fucking questions?”
“Yes,” I nod. “What would it take to incentivize you to join The Eyes?”
We’ve had our differences, but I respect Carter.
Admire him, even. He’s as ruthless as I am, though a bit reckless for my tastes.
Nevertheless, bringing him into The Eyes as an ally would certainly strengthen my position in their ranks.
The organization has been coveting him for some time, and he is extraordinarily powerful in his own right.
His dealings move far beyond smuggling; he has a foot in almost every door in the criminal underground.
Carter lets silence linger in the wake of my question. Finally, he say glibly, “If Silas is being that much of a pest, kill him.”
“I can’t,” I growl. “I’ll be suspect #1, and if The Eyes don’t sanction my actions, I’ll get into deep shit. I’ll be killed in accordance with their rules. I’ve submitted a request, but they’re taking a long time to review it.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t want to join.” Carter hisses out a breath. “If I want someone dead, I ensure they’re dead. I don’t want to ask for fucking permission to do what I have to do.”
“Most members are far more valuable alive than dead,” I argue. “Silas is an exception.”
“Fine.” Carter sniffs. “Here’s my offer; kill Silas, and I’ll consider joining.”
He hangs up before I can respond. Total fucking asshole.
His demands are fair, but they put me in an impossible position. I require a powerful ally in the Eyes, and I have my eyes on one. But, in order to get him, I have to do something that’ll get me killed.
I decide to take my irritation out on Lyra in the morning. Another splendid reason to have her around. She’s incurred plenty of punishments in our time apart; I intend to sporadically administer them in whichever way satisfies me from moment to moment.
I climb back into bed after working through the morning.
It’s nearing 10AM, but she’s still fast asleep, curled up on her side.
I roll her onto her back, spread her thighs, and gaze down at her pussy.
There’s a slight glisten there; it looks like my little bird has been having some sordid dreams. I contemplate tying her down, but I like holding her down much more than I like having her held down.
I love it when she struggles against me, only to inevitably succumb to my touch. It’s invigorating.
I dip my fingers into her center, lips curling with pleasure when I find that she really is wet. I might make her tell me exactly what she was dreaming of later. For now…
Her eyes start to flutter when I circle her clit a few times. Her legs shift restlessly around the bed, and when I take that tiny bundle of nerves between my index finger and thumb and pinch it, she wakes up almost instantly.
“Good morning,” I rumble, circling her clit to sooth away the sting. She gazes at me with a mixture of confusion and panic, and promptly attempts to roll away.
I pin her down with a hand on her chest, right between her breasts.
“Hold still,” I say.
“Killian,” she gasps, trying to push my hand off. “What—” she cuts off with a high-pitches yell when I clap my palm down against her pussy in a sharp, succinct spank. It’s not particularly hard, but it doesn’t need to be over this sensitive part of her anatomy.
“I said hold still.” And I don’t feel like repeating myself.
She falls still almost instantly, save for the shivers wracking her limbs. I return to gently stroking her center, all while considering her. So many options for what I could do… and now that I no longer have a predetermined end-date, I have literally all the time in the world to do it.
“Pick a number between one and five,” I invite her.
Her eyes shadow over with understanding. “Please, not there.” She tries to close her legs, but I’m kneeling between them, keeping them open.
“Do you want me to pick for you?”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “One.”
“Very well.” I spank her pussy two more times in rapid succession; she cries out so loudly I’m thankful my nearest neighbors are two floors down.
“I said one!” she laments.
“I didn’t say the number represented how many times I’d be spanking you.” I run my fingers through her slit again, pleased to find that she’s grown nice and wet for me. Pain really does work wonders on her.
“Then what?”
I smile. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now, in terms of your morning spanking—”
“What?” her voice is high-pitched.
“Morning spanking,” I clarify. “You didn’t actually think yesterday was all the punishment you were going to get, did you? No. You were gone for 160 days. That’s how long your punishment will last.”
“K-Killian.” Her expression fills up with fear. Real, visceral fear that awakens the predator in me.
I’m not sure what I desire more; punishing her or comforting her. Thankfully, I’ll get to do both.
“I think ten firm spanks each morning should do it,” I go on. “And, when I’m feeling kind, you can choose where I spank you.”
“Ass,” she says immediately.
“I said when I’m feeling kind. I’m not in a good mood this morning.” I spank her center again for emphasis; she jerks and cries out even louder, trying to wriggle out from beneath me.
“Don’t make me tie you down,” I warn. “If you lie there and take it, I might kiss the pain away later.”
I set about completing my task without further ado.
By the fifth spank, there are tears welling in her eyes; by the eighth, they’ve started falling.
On the tenth and final, a sob escapes her.
Her eyes are red and slightly swollen; her dazed expression has fled.
But when she meets my eyes… my god, the amount of hatred there is stunning.
I think that if my Little Bird had a gun, she’d shoot me in the head.
“Good girl,” I murmur, brushing her hair away from her face. “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”
“I hate you,” she sniffles. “I hate you so much—”
“Enough.” My tone is firm. She might think she hates me, but I doubt that she truly knows how she feels about me. There’s some… bad history between us, granted. But it’s not all terrible, and it certainly won’t be terrible moving forward.
I’m aware that I’m a sadistic, difficult man, but I meant what I said to Lyra before.
She will always remain at the top of my priorities.
Even while I’m harboring a good deal of anger at her for running away for months.
Our time apart left me reeling, not to mention the mess I had to clean up after her expose.
“I do,” she insists.
“Sure, Little Bird. That’s why my palm is coated in your arousal, and your body is begging me for more.”
Her cheeks burn. She tries to sit up, but I push her back down with my hand, lazily circling her clit a few times for emphasis.
“It’s not—” she cuts off with a moan as I slide a finger inside her, keeping my thumb pressed to her clit. “One has—nothing to do… with the other.”
“Then why are you already clenching around me?” I whisper. “If you hate me so much, why are you on the cusp of an orgasm?”
“Because—” she cries out. “…my body is different from my brain.”
“Mm.” I’ll have fun making her eat her words over and over again. She can profess to hate me all she wants; I’m not sure she truly does. I’m not sure if she even knows how she feels. “Well, then. If you hate me so much, I suppose you have no interest in pleasure.”
I pull my hand away. She gasps, and stares up at me with wide, confused eyes. “W-what?”
“You have no use of an orgasm from a man you hate, right?”
Her lips part, but no response comes out.
I hide a smile as I pointedly wipe my hand on my bed sheets, leaving a damp spot.
“Get yourself cleaned up. There are clothes in the closet. By the way; the number you chose is the number of hours you’ll have to wait for your orgasm.
But, since you hate me so much, I think I’ll bump your one up to a five. ”
Her loud screech of anger fills the room as I stand and make my way to the door. “There are plenty of clothes in the closet for you,” I call over my shoulder, opening the door. “I’ll see you in the living room in twenty minutes. Don’t be late.”