Chapter Four
Asher
I shouldn't agree to this. Not like this.
The situation is too volatile. There's too much rage and pain, too much of everything we haven't said. Every logical instinct in me screams to step back and regroup.
But the pull is unbearable. I've lost control and I need it back. Not through words, but through action.
Through command.
She lied. I understand why. I do. We barely know each other. Not even two weeks. She didn't owe us anything.
However, in that short span of time, something real began to take shape. It wasn't just lust or proximity. It was the hope that maybe I could have something for myself again. Something that wasn't responsibility, protocol, or the endless management of this town's supernaturals.
I looked forward to her laughter when I picked her up from a shift. To the warmth in the house when she was there. To the small things like the sounds she made tasting something I cooked, the scent of her perfume in the hallway, the sight of her shoes at the door.
Now it's fractured. Not shattered, but cracked deep.
Kayden's bleeding openly. His fury is everywhere. But I keep my calm and let my wounds bleed when no one can see.
What she's offering is irrational. Reckless. A session built on anger and betrayal should be a hard no.
But then I look at her. On her knees, eyes wide, lips parted, chest rising and falling like she can't catch her breath.
And I'm damned.
Damned for wanting this. For needing to reassert control, burn away the chaos. To bring her to the edge and rebuild from there.
But it has to be my way.
Kayden's circling her like a wolf, the sadistic gleam in his eyes bright and dangerous, but I know he won't go too far.
He knows I won't let him.
"If we do this," I say, voice low and clipped, "it will be by my rules. You know your safe word?"
"Marigold," she responds.
"Use it if you need it," I say and step closer. My hands are behind my back as I lean in, my lips a whisper from her ear, not touching but close enough to let the tension crackle. "Because this won't be soft, Sage. This will be raw and wild."
Kayden comes up behind her. His hand clamps over the back of her neck. She gasps. The sound sears through me like lightning.
"I'll show you just how fragile you are," he growls, a dark grin spreading. "And how easily we could break you."
I don't stop him. I watch, I hold the line.
"We'll make you beg for mercy," he continues, fingers tightening. "And maybe… maybe we'll grant it."
She shudders. A small whimper escapes her, but it's not fear. It's anticipation.
"We will make you ours again," I say. "Through discipline. Pain. Pleasure."
I crouch to meet her eyes.
"But no more lies," I tell her. "Not to us. Not to yourself. You go only as far as you can, and you say the word when it's too much. Understood?"
"Yes… sir," she says.
The word hits like a shot of heat straight into my bloodstream. And into my cock.
"Good girl," I say, brushing my thumb across her jaw. A small reward and a warning wrapped in one. "Don't ever lie to me again."
She nods, and I know she understands that this moment, her submission, is more than our usual dark-edged game. It's a recalibration of everything that we've become.
Kayden's fingers thread into her hair, and he pulls her head back with a firm, controlled grip that draws a sharp yelp from her throat.
His eyes bore into hers. "You better be damn sure about this, sunshine. Because once we open this door…" He leans in. "What comes through might not be something we can put back in a box."
Another warning. Another chance.
"I want this," she says, voice cracking but steady. "I'm sure. I can't… I can't go back. Only through."
Kayden glances at me. I give a single nod.
My fingers have been itching—burning—for the leather coiled around my waist. I slide the belt free in one smooth motion. The quiet snick of the buckle, the whoosh of the pull, cut through the room like a shot.
Kayden angles her head to face me, to look at what I'm preparing. The promise of the punishment to come.
Her lips part. Pupils dilate. What I see in her eyes is wariness, curiosity, and submission coiled around heat. Exactly the mix we need for this descent into something darker.
"Strip her," I say.
Kayden doesn't hesitate. He tugs her top over her head with no ceremony. Then grips her by the waist and pulls her up from her knees. Her pants follow in one swift, impersonal motion. This isn't seduction, but command.
Her body is exposed now, lush, marked with the ink of flowers that wind over her like artistic vines.
But this isn't a moment for beauty. It's a moment for correction.
"Turn around," I say. "Grip the bedpost."
Her breath hitches, but she obeys. No delay. She plants her feet and wraps her hands around the carved wood.
Kayden presses a hand between her shoulder blades and eases her forward until her back arches, her ass lifted perfectly, waiting.
Not for pleasure. Not yet.
For discipline.
"You'll count every strike," I say, my tone like steel. "Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Her voice is certainty and surrender.
Kayden steps back, eyes locked on her.
I crack my neck once, roll my shoulders, and step into position. The belt coils in my hand like it knows what it's for.
I raise it. Then bring it down.