Chapter 14 Ezekial #2
“You were incredible.” My abrupt compliment shocks her. Her eyes widen before shifting into something more curious.
I take my chance, moving closer.
“The way you dominated that room.”—and us—“The way you commanded our attention. We hung upon your every word, every glance.” I take another step, holding her gaze. “You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was... intoxicating.”
Her lips part, as if she’s about to speak, but instead, she tilts her head up and studies me intensely.
Then she smiles—slowly, and it’s devastating. “And for a man who once told me he needed control, how did it feel to have it taken?”
“Enlightening.” I allow the barest hint of a smile.
Her eyes flare with interest, just like I wanted. “Enlightening, how?”
I lean in closer, and she doesn’t retreat. “It reminded me how power doesn’t always come from being in control. Sometimes… it’s in knowing exactly when to let go. Knowing when to surrender.”
Her lips twitch, as though suppressing a smile, but her eyes remain locked on mine, sharp and inquisitive. “Is that what you want me to do, Ezekial? Surrender?”
What. A. Question.
Hearing my name and the word ‘surrender’ from her lips, with that burning gaze.
My darkness rumbles.
“Only when you choose to.” I pause, letting the tension simmer as her once unflinching gaze flickers.
I could touch her now. It would be so easy. I could show her what surrender really feels like.
But I’m pulled from my spiralling thoughts when she turns away, her vibrant curls flashing as she walks to Kacey’s door.
I close my eyes and inhale, calm my inner beast, flex the hand that had begun to rise.
She makes me feel so out of control. It’s dangerous… but also so thrilling.
I follow behind, tracking every movement like a starving predator. My eyes fix on her heeled steps, the backs of her smooth calves, that ridiculous skirt.
Inhale. Breathe. Remember what Julien taught you. I control the darkness. I—
“Could I offer you some friendly advice?” I blurt, forcing my voice to stay light, even as that sliver of milky thigh against the dark, tight, tiny fabric drives me feral.
Jasmine stops but keeps her back to me. My darkness pulses at the refusal, and my eyes drop back to that soft, teasing, exposed skin.
“Of course, friend,” she replies in a mockingly sweet voice, still facing the door.
Thank fuck she can’t see me. My lips curl into a vicious snarl at that endearment.
Friend.
We’re so much more than that.
She is everything—the sun and moon, the dark and light, all things in between. Ana mea.
“I wouldn’t wear that skirt again.” She hasn’t moved, but her shoulders tense. I edge closer, lowering my voice. “Unless you want to test our friendship.”
In a slow, calculated movement that only makes her skirt ride higher, she finally turns to face me. Her gaze is wide, utterly doe-like, her hand hovering over parted lips in a perfect imitation of shock.
“You’d ruin our friendship over a bit of material?”
I move closer. I can’t help it. She is magnetic. And when she’s acting like this, pretending to be so sweet and innocent, like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing to me with those bare legs and that tiny skirt—the primal part of me thrives.
She’d pretend so well. Whimpering and pleading beneath me. Begging me—
“I’ll be ruining more than that.” I never drop her gaze, but my shadows stir, the hallway darkens. She should be terrified, backing away.
Instead, she doubles down on her act. Fluttering her long lashes, fingertips pressing into her plump lower lip.
It all stirs my beast. Entices it.
Does she have any idea what this little showcase is doing to me?
Watching this ethereal, enigmatic woman pretend she’s anything but, pretending she’s so innocent and naive—it’s all just… too much.
And suddenly, I’m not imagining anymore. I can see it. Her submitting to me. So fucking vividly.
And when her lips pull into a small, coy smile, brows softly furrowing, hand falling away to reveal that slightly pouted lip—urging me to take a bite…
The tiny thread holding my control tightens.
Then she murmurs, “I’m not sure what you mean, my lord.”
My—
What did she—
From friend to... that.
“I—” I try to speak. Try to shatter the tension, but the thread only tightens.
I am so fucked.
And she knows it.
That sly little smirk hasn’t moved.
My lord.
My.
I repeat it in my head. Again. Again.
But it’s laced with indecent images, ones of her whimpering that very phrase.
“Is everything okay, my lord?”
Fuuuuck.
I close my eyes, but that’s another mistake.
All I see are her soft eyes, gazing up at me. Mock innocence and concern shaping her features as I coax her to obey, to let me take care of her. Imagining her giving me control, surrendering, taking over her completely—mind, body, soul…
“You’re not gonna make this easy for us, are you?” My voice is low, rough with darkness. I plant my hands on the frame above her head and lean in, forcing her spine flat against the door.
Our eyes meet again, and hold. With that one look, she’s daring me, enticing me, urging me to snap.
A brat who can fake submission.
Fuck me. The things me and my brother could do with that...
My eyes dart to her hand on the handle behind her, but then she leans forwards, and I go still. She’s on her tiptoes, in platform heels, and still barely reaches my chin, so I lower my face until our eyes are level.
Her gaze drops to my mouth, then slowly sweeps back up to my eyes.
“Goodnight, my lord,” she whispers.
I don’t get to respond. She’s already turning the handle, stepping backwards over the threshold, her dangerous little smirk never leaving my gaze.
Then she shuts the door.
I stand there, staring into that piece of wood. A flimsy barricade, separating me from her. My fists slide over it as I linger there, contemplating my options.
Ripping the door from its hinges, flinging her over my shoulder, dragging her into the penthouse next door—no.
No. That isn’t happening.
I wouldn’t—can’t—because I have to play the game.
Her rules. Her choice.
Even though I’m flooded with sour frustration, pent up angst, and I’m so hard that moving is going to be difficult, I’m grinning. I can’t ignore the pleasure rushing through me.
And the way she behaved for me.
She’s given me a taste of what she’d be like with me. With us. If we earned it—if we were worthy enough for her to relinquish control, to trust us, to submit. Even if it was only for a moment… or several hours… maybe a full day.
I softly tap my fists against the door once, then drag myself away.
Maybe I’m not the best choice to stay tonight. Maybe this is a terrible idea. Because a wall, a door, that isn’t going to stop me from taking what I want. Not when she’s right there.
I force myself to keep walking, grabbing my phone from my pocket and seeing messages already there. A range of colourful insults from Sai, but I skim past them, tapping Kane’s name as I enter the adjoining penthouse—just a few steps from hers.
I’m not risking speaking through our minds at this distance. I couldn’t live with Sai mocking me over this for the next decade.
It rings once.
“You need to come,” is all I say as I pace down the penthouse hallway, unloosening the tie that has become a noose.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is clipped, terse.
“I’m not the right choice, Kane. I had to drag myself away from her door before I… just come and switch with me.”
“Ezekial.” His voice reeks of disapproval. “She would feel me, and we cannot give her another reason not to trust us. Tell me what happened.”
“What happened is that she put on another performance, but this one was just for me and... fucking hell—” I drop onto the sofa, fling my glasses onto the table and scrub a hand over my face, trying to force the memory of her from my mind... when all I want to do is relive it.
“You’re the most grounded of us all,” he says calmly, and I know he’s trying to reassure me but, if anything, it makes my lack of control feel even worse. “Imagine if it was Sai in your position.”
“That’s why I’m not asking for that crazy fuck, I’m asking for you,” I grit out, growing annoyed at my brother. Did he not think I’d already consider all the options? He’s the most viable one.
“I’m certain you’ve dealt with more... trying things than this.”
I huff. “Brother, please remind me, when have I ever had to deal with my bond doing this—”
I send the memory, the full thing. From the moment I called her ‘intoxicating’, up until she closed the door in my face.
And then, because I’m definitely catching some type of sickness from Sai, I replay the final moments.
Her sweet expressions, the facade of innocence and nativity, how she addresses me as ‘my lord’…
Groaning, I lean back and stare up at the pitch-black ceiling, waiting for my brother’s response. All I hear is his breathing, but the slight change in volume is enough to tell me he’s affected.
And because I’m seriously sick, I dare to say, “Imagine what she’d be like with us, brother.”
Even from this distance, I feel my brother’s darkness erupt. I drop my gaze to the district through the wall of glass, and for a second the stars themselves seem to flicker out of existence.
“Don’t even—that isn’t—” Kane can’t form a sentence, and I know he’s replaying the memory, because so am I.
I growl under my breath. “I know, fuck. I know.”
“She’s only just started speaking to me, we’re nowhere near—there isn’t a chance she’d…” And there he goes, lost to the memory. Again.
“I shouldn’t have said anything, shouldn’t have shown you.” I draw in a deep breath, then release a slow, calming exhale. “But…”
I lean forwards, elbows on my thighs as I study the moonlit district, hoping my brother takes the bait.
“But?”
I smirk. “Maybe you’ll get your own performance.”
He pauses and, knowing my brother, he’s probably weighing every possible reply. What I don’t expect is for him to send a new memory my way.