Chapter 21
HARDISON
The flogger kept its rhythm, but inside me, everything shifted. Every cry, every tremor of her body beneath my hand wasn’t just submission—it was trust. Emberlynn wasn’t giving me her skin. She was giving me herself.
I felt it like a fist to the chest.
Her blindfold dampened with her tears, damp at the edges. She couldn’t see me, but God, I saw her. Saw her surrender, her courage, the way she leaned into each strike instead of pulling away. It gutted me.
My grip on the flogger tightened, not from control but from emotion, raw and unexpected. This wasn’t about leather or rhythm anymore. It was about the woman in front of me trusting me to take her apart and piece her back together without breaking her.
“Good girl,” I said again, though my throat went thick around the words. “You’re so goddamn perfect for me.”
The flogger landed across her back. The strands spread like fire. She moaned—broken, needy—and it undid me. My hand faltered for half a breath before I forced myself steady. She needed the rhythm. She needed me strong.
But inside, I wasn’t strong. I was undone.
How the hell did I deserve this? A woman who looked at the darkest corners of me—the need to control, to command, to mark—and said yes, please. A woman who took everything I gave her and still reached for more.
She sagged against the bonds, her body limp, her breath shallow but steady.
Subspace. I knew it as sure as I knew my name.
The endgame was always to get here, but I didn’t expect her to succumb so quickly.
I stopped and stepped in close. My hand pressed flat against her spine. Warmth still radiated from her skin.
“You with me, Queen?” My voice was softer now, the Dom stripped away until it was just me—Hardison, the man who loved her.
“Yes…” she whispered, voice slurred but sure. “With you.”
Relief hit me so hard my dick twitched. I leaned my forehead against her shoulder, taking a breath that shook more than I wanted to admit. She trusted me this much. She loved me this much. And God help me, I was terrified of ever failing her.
“Well then, kitten, let me help you fly.”
I let the flogger slide across her skin again, watching her shiver under each strike. The sound of leather hitting flesh was sharp, and yet she didn’t flinch away. She didn’t resist. She didn’t pull back. She gave herself to me completely, and the weight of that trust pressed deep into my chest.
“You’re doing so well, Queen,” I murmured, letting my voice carry the warmth I couldn’t hide. Each flick of the leather was precise, measured, but my mind kept wandering to the way she leaned into it, the way her body moved for me alone.
I pushed her just a little more, teasing the edge of what I knew she could handle. Her breath hitched, ragged and soft, and my heart slammed against my ribs. Every strike, every whispered word, felt like a declaration: Hers. Mine.
Her skin glowed under the dim lights, each mark a testament to our connection.
I pressed closer, letting the flogger rest momentarily, just to feel the warmth of her against me.
She was trembling, floating, and I felt a raw vulnerability of my own—seeing her so open, so exposed, and knowing I was the only one keeping her safe.
Her body went still, pliant, suspended on the fragile thread between surrender and release.
I let the flogger find her again, slow, deliberate strokes, each one carrying my care, my control, my love.
When she gasped, I turned up the heat. Each swing moved faster, a little higher, harder, like a constant drum across her body.
She pushed up on her toes, following the strands as they landed.
Losing myself in the moment, I kept up with the tempo I’d created.
Letting it drive her further and further into this scene.
I followed her breathing, her movements, her arousal, her submission until we hit a very important instruction to note in this song of ours–legato.
My movements slowed. Her breathing followed, connected to each downward swing.
Connected in a way that made me the reason she felt anything.
She turned her head, and I could see it in her eyes when she broke—sob after sob, but not of pain.
Release. Freedom. Pure, unfiltered trust. I felt it too.
That wild, soaring connection that left us both shaking.
My job wasn’t over yet. I continued bringing her down, letting each swing gently pull her back into the moment.
She calmed, sagging against the cross as if it were her refuge.
Finally, letting the flogger fall to the floor. My arms circled her, holding her upright, steadying her trembling body. “I’ve got you. Always,” I whispered, pressing my lips to her hair.
And I meant it. Every single word. Every single heartbeat.
Her body felt like it weighed nothing when I detached her restraints and scooped her into my arms. She was boneless, head resting against my chest, eyes glazed in that sweet, hazy way that told me she was still floating.
Subspace had her good and deep, and I couldn’t stop the swell of pride in my chest knowing I’d been the one to guide her there—and the one who’d catch her on the way back down.
I laid her gently on the padded table in the private room, kneeling beside her so I could stay close.
My hands were steady as I pulled a soft blanket from my bag, wrapping it snugly around her trembling frame.
She whimpered, and I smoothed a hand over her hair, my thumb tracing the damp strands away from her face.
“Easy, Queen. I’ve got you,” I murmured, keeping my voice low and steady, a tether she could cling to.
Her lips parted, breath shallow, but no words came. That was fine. She didn’t need to speak. I caressed her cheek, grounding her with every touch. Each small noise she made went straight through me, a reminder of how much she’d trusted me with her body, her mind, her heart.
I pulled a bottle of water from the bag and pressed it to her lips. “Sip for me.”
She obeyed without hesitation, eyes closed, and I felt that vulnerability wash over me again—how easily she surrendered to my care. When she swallowed, I whispered my praise into the space between us.
“Good girl. Perfect.”
For a moment, I just sat there, holding her hand in both of mine, pressing my lips against her knuckles.
My chest ached in a way that wasn’t painful but damn sure wasn’t easy either.
She didn't know what it did to me to see her like this—soft, safe, trusting me to carry her when she couldn’t stand on her own.
I rested my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. “You’re everything to me, Emberlynn. Do you know that?”
Her lashes fluttered, a faint smile tugging at her mouth even though she still looked half-gone. “Mhm…”
That tiny sound nearly broke me open.
I shifted onto the bench beside her, pulling her against my chest, wrapping us both in the blanket until we were cocooned together.
I let her hear my heartbeat, steady and strong, anchoring her back to reality.
My hands moved in slow circles on her back, my lips brushing her temple every few breaths.
Minutes passed, maybe longer, until her breathing evened out. And in that quiet, with the world reduced to nothing but her warmth against me, I realized something–I’d never felt so fucking alive.
By the time her eyes were clear and her words no longer slurred, I knew she was ready. I bundled her into her coat, carried the duffel in one hand, and walked her out to my SUV. She leaned against me the whole way, pliant but steady now, that soft smile still playing at her lips.
Back at her apartment, I settled her onto the couch and made her a plate of food—simple, nothing fancy. She ate slowly, letting me feed her half the bites when she got too lost staring at me. Every time she looked up, her gaze lingered, heavy and raw.
“How do you feel?” I asked, my voice quiet but edged with the need to know.
“Safe,” she whispered. Then, after a beat, her cheeks flushed pink. “Loved. Like… like you saw every part of me tonight, and I didn’t have to hide any of it.”
My chest tightened. I cupped her jaw, tipping her chin until our eyes met. “I did see you. All of you. And I’ll never let you forget what you gave me tonight.”
Her lips trembled, and then she set her plate aside and climbed into my lap, straddling me, blanket slipping off her shoulders. Her hands curled into my shirt. “I need more, Hardison. I need to feel you inside me. I don’t just want the scene—I want you.”
The words hit me low, sparking something primal. I didn’t make her ask twice.
That night, we didn’t just have sex—we made love.
Slow at first, like I was relearning every inch of her body, then harder when the need bled over, both of us chasing something we’d never be able to name but always recognize.
I lost myself in her, in the way she gasped my name, in the way her nails dug into my skin like she couldn’t stand the thought of letting me go.
We didn’t stop. Every time we fell apart, we found our way back, tangled in sheets and whispered promises. By the time exhaustion claimed us, the sky was already lightening outside the blinds.
The pounding at the door came too soon. Movers.
“Shit,” I muttered, rolling out of bed. Emberlynn squeaked, yanking the sheet over her head as I tossed her clothes onto the mattress. We scrambled, half-dressed and laughing, pulling ourselves together just in time to let the guys in.
Thankfully, I’d already dragged everything into the front room yesterday. It didn’t take long—boxes loaded, furniture wrapped, the whole place emptied piece by piece. Emberlynn trailed behind us, arms folded, watching her life get carried out the door.
When the last box was gone, she stood in the middle of the bare apartment, eyes glistening. She turned in a slow circle, taking it all in, then exhaled hard. “Goodbye,” she whispered. “It’s time for my next chapter.”
I slid my arm around her waist, pulling her into me. “Not just your chapter,” I corrected softly, kissing her temple. “Ours.”
We left shortly after, arriving at the airport in record time. Surprisingly, everything went smoothly. We arrived on time in the city, and retrieved my SUV from the parking lot.
“Can we make a stop?” Emberlynn asked as she tapped a bunch of stuff on her phone screen.
“Sure. Put the address into the GPS.” I nodded at the screen and waited to see where we were going.
The address didn’t look familiar, and it wasn’t far. We landed in Tallahassee, so there was no telling what she’d found up here. We could do whatever she wanted as long as we were on the road before nightfall.
I pulled up to a tattoo shop and recognized it immediately. I’d been researching it for weeks.
“Park, please.” Emberlynn said and then jumped out and hurried inside.
I sighed, knowing she was up to no good.
I found a spot and walked to stand outside the parlor.
The bell over the shop door jingled as Emberlynn pulled it open and tugged me inside.
The smell of antiseptic mixed with ink and bad decisions hung thick in the air, familiar but still sharp enough to make my chest tighten.
I gave her a look. “You really just walked me into this tattoo shop without warning me?”
Her lips curved into that soft, stubborn smile of hers. “Not without warning. You’ve been researching this place for weeks. I saw the tabs on your laptop. Don’t tell me you weren’t dragging your feet.”
I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “Damn woman, you don’t let me hide, do you?”
“That’s kind of the point,” she said, threading her fingers through mine. Her eyes softened. “It’s time, Hardison. You carry those men in your heart, and the world needs to know how brave each and everyone of y’all are. Now carry them on your skin, too. They deserve that. All of them.”
The artist, a tall guy with sleeves full of black and gray ink, walked over with a clipboard. “You’re the vet she called about?”
I blinked at her. “You set this up?”
She just shrugged, looking far too pleased with herself.
I sighed and then nodded to the artist. “Yeah. That’s me.”
He gave me an assessing look. “Alright, man. What are we putting down today?”
I ran a hand over the back of my neck, my throat tightening. For a second, words didn’t want to come. Emberlynn squeezed my hand, grounding me.
“I want a tribal piece,” I finally said. “Something that symbolizes brotherhood. Strength. Bond. A mark for the SEALs who had my back.” My voice cracked on the last word, but I pushed through it. “And beneath it… I want their names. All of them. Every brother I have and the one I lost.”
The artist’s expression shifted, serious now. He nodded slowly. “We can do that. Strong lines up top, clean lettering below. Make sure it lasts as long as you do.”
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with a mix of pride and grief. “That’s the point.”
“Can I get creative?” he asked.
“As long as you’re paying your respects, you can get as creative as you want.”
He motioned toward the chair. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I sat down, the leather cold against my back as Emberlynn settled into the seat beside me. She didn’t let go of my hand, even when the buzz of the needle kicked on.
The sting of the first pass made me grit my teeth, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, I kept my eyes on her. She was the anchor in the storm, the reason I was here, the reason I wasn’t drowning in ghosts.
And as the needle burned ink into my skin, I thought about Barrett. About all my brothers. Elijah… about how every line would keep us together—not just in my memory, but carved into me forever.