by Elaina Jadin
For him, there are no surprises lurking on the other side of the park. Nothing unknown waiting in the darkened shadows, ready to lunge for his throat. That level of confidence and surety was ripped away from me years ago, along with my heart and the last vestiges of my childhood innocence.
But here, with him, I have a taste of it again. And I need it.
“Now, it’s time for a little test. Up,” he says simply with a wave of his fingers.
He produces my panties from thin air and lays them on the desk beside me, but doesn’t offer me his hand to help me up. The only assistance he gives is the echo of his words hanging in the air, full of expectation for immediate obedience.
Despite the protest of my legs, I slide off the edge of the desk and stumble to my feet. My knees wobble unsteadily as I slide my underwear back on, and I grasp the hard surface behind me for support.
The idea of Draven testing me gives me pause—he already tests every ounce of sanity I have, and that’s without trying. But right now, I don’t care. I’m just grateful for the opportunity to stay with him a while longer.
My thighs are soaked from the intense orgasm he gave me, and even now Draven’s mouth and chin are slick with the evidence. It doesn’t soften him. If anything he looks more dangerous, like a predator I’ve disturbed during a meal. The fact that I was his meal sends a violent thrill down my spine, settling once more into my aching core.
He moves to the corner of the room where a chaise lounge sits, covered with rich, dark leather, like the armchairs in front of his desk. With intimidating ease, he kicks a foot against the back of the large, ornate piece of furniture, sending the chaise lounge forward into the room with one smooth motion, creating an open area around it.
“On your stomach, and face toward the end.” Draven’s voice is curt and commanding as he strides back to the desk and picks up his tie.
The leather upholstery is cool, a balm against the bruised skin along the front of my hips, and I sink onto it with a blissful sigh, lying face-down as told.
It’s not long enough for me to stretch out completely, so I try different positions, first resting my feet against the rolled back cushion, then with my legs apart so that my feet dangle awkwardly off either side, but that feels too exposed.
Finally, I draw my thighs together and bend my knees, with my feet waving in the air behind me, above my ass. It’s more comfortable than letting my feet dangle, but I cross and uncross my ankles with uncertainty, feeling almost childlike in this pose.
He says nothing as he kneels into a crouch in front of me, and instantly the position of my feet are forgotten, his cool gaze demanding my full attention.
“Once I put this on,” he begins, holding up the tie, “you have permission to rest your head on your arms—or however you feel most comfortable. But you are not allowed to sit up or move off this chaise unless instructed.”
There’s something dark in his eyes, and his jaw is set in a way I’ve not seen. His expression tells me what he has planned next won’t be anything like what happened on his desk moments ago. It won’t be about pleasure.
“Yes, sir,” I murmur even as apprehension spikes in my veins. It might be to my detriment, but I already know I’ll do whatever this man tells me.
Draven wraps the silk tie around my face, fashioning it into a blindfold once more, but there’s nothing playfully threatening about his movements this time. He’s all business.
For the first time since meeting him, my arousal is outmatched by fear. As his touch retreats and I hear him move away, my heart is racing so fast I think it might give out.
The room is so quiet I swear I can hear my own pulse beating. I tilt my head, trying desperately to keep track of Draven’s movements. He crosses the room, and I hear a soft click I can’t identify, then he returns to my side. He trails his fingers over my shoulder and down my back before straddling the chaise lounge to sit behind me, with my bent knees wedged against his inner thighs.
I almost sigh with relief as his hands wrap tightly around each of my calves. I can’t see anything, and I have no idea what’s in store for me, yet with Draven’s hands on me I feel safer somehow.
But there’s something different in his touch now, a peculiar tension in the way he’s gripping me, like a promise of things yet to come. My nerves ratchet up another notch as I analyze his change in demeanor as though it might provide clues about what test awaits me.
Draven’s hands press into my calves as he asks, “What do you hear?”
The question isn’t what I expected, and I furrow my brow as my mind races ahead, hopelessly trying to figure out what’s going on. But a moment later, I strain against the silence obediently, wanting to give Draven the answer he seeks.
Despite my effort, I come up empty. The room is utterly still. There’s only the sound of our breathing, and the thumping in my chest.
I purse my lips, reluctant to speak when I have nothing to offer, but finally I tell him, “I don’t hear anything.” I tense, waiting for his hand to come down on my ass for answering wrong, for somehow missing a noise I was supposed to pick up on.
Instead, his thumbs rub circles against my skin encouragingly. “Keep listening. Tell me when you hear it.”
My stomach churns as I lift my head, propping my elbows up to rest my chin on my hands instead of laying down. Still, all I can hear is the silence, broken only by our breathing.
Except... wait…
There is something else.
It’s very faint, but the hair stands up on the back of my neck and goosebumps race across my skin as my ears pick up on the sounds of the soft, rhythmic breathing.
We’re not alone.
I startle, jerking my head back and tensing instinctively. Draven says nothing, but his grip tightens around my legs. Whether to hold me in place or to keep me focused, I don’t know.
“Someone’s in here.” It’s an urgent whisper, as though I’ve woken up in the middle of the night to a home invasion and I’m trying to rouse him from a deep slumber, craving his protection.
But of course, he knows we aren’t alone, and he’s perfectly aware of everything happening around him, as always. This is part of his plan.
He runs his right hand up to my ankle and slides his thumb against the arch of my foot, pressing into the sensitive skin there with firm, deep strokes. “Yes,” he says, a simple acknowledgement. “What else?”
“I...” I shake my head as I trail off, trying my best to listen carefully despite the knot of panic forming in my throat.
The breathing is coming closer, but it’s layered and seems to be coming from two directions at once. There are two. Or maybe more. I tense again, realizing how outnumbered I am. A million terrible scenarios flit through my head, each one fighting for attention, but with great effort, I fight back against the rising tide of anxiety.
He swore that no one other than himself, Bishop, and Kade would touch me, and as the breath sounds move closer, I cling to that promise like a safety blanket.
So far, these men have kept me in suspense, played with my rough edges, and pushed me to the far reaches of my comfort zone—but they haven’t lied to me. I can either trust Draven, or rip my blindfold off and end this whole arrangement right now.
“What do you hear, Jemma?” Draven’s firm voice cuts through my internal debate.
I draw in a long, ragged breath, gathering it deep in my lungs as though the air is made of courage. “There are two people?”
Another soothing stroke against the tender flesh of my foot. “There are two, yes.”
Two. Not two people, just… two. His words linger heavily in the air, so thick with implications that I can taste them like bitter notes on my tongue. I draw in a shaky breath as my mind whirls, trying to decode his choice of phrase.
Then I hear it. Time seems to slow down, and the sound distorts as it reaches my ears, stretched out until it’s a mangled vibration played at half-speed, but it’s still unmistakable.
A quiet growl.<
br />
Oh god.
“The wolves.” My voice cracks, the fear tearing at my throat. I need to get away from them. They’re too close.
This time, it’s not my mother being dragged off of me, it’s Draven. The darkness of night is suffocating me, blinding me to the horrors that await, and there’s nowhere for us to hide.
I’m stuck in the tunnels, twisted into a tiny space as they claw at the wood, and he’s screaming, and I can’t help him and—
Pain lances through my ankles, sharp and stabbing. Draven’s fingers press mercilessly into the tender bundle of nerves between the joints there, and his hands grip me so hard there’s no doubt I’ll have bruises tomorrow. But it works.
A whimpering cry rockets up from my throat as the horrifying hallucination fades, and I gasp, filling my burning lungs with much-needed oxygen.
He’s here, I’m here, and it’s his soft, silken tie covering my eyes, not the heavy black veil of an endless night of terror.
The growl I heard might not even have been real. My heart is racing, and I can’t even hear anything over the sound of my blood rushing through my ears. It’s possible I imagined the sound, my suggestive mind playing tricks on me.
“You’re safe, my little fawn.” His voice is soothing, like the low rumble of thunder from a safe distance, and I grab hold of it as though he’s thrown me a life vest in the midst of a turbulent storm.
A long stretch of silence passes as his fingers firmly knead into my calves, anchoring me to the present and slowly ebbing away the rigidity of my muscles. The whooshing in my head subsides, little by little, as I focus on his touch, willing myself to pretend it’s only me and him in the room.
“You’ve trusted me with your presence, by your agreement to stay with us.” He says it as a statement of fact, but from the tone, I know he expects me to respond.
I press my lips together because I don’t know what might escape if I open my mouth. I don’t want to cry. I want to be strong. I want this nightmare I’ve been living to end. But it grasps me in its clutches, over and over, tormenting my soul until I’m nothing more than a quivering mess.
Maybe it’s trust that’s keeping me here.
Or maybe it’s some form of self-inflicted torture, a twisted indulgence to keep the true terror at bay. But Draven’s assessment sounds much saner than mine, so I give him a small nod.
“And you’ve trusted me with your body.” He runs his hands down my legs and parts my knees ever so slightly before smoothing his fingers along the inside of my thighs, as though I need a reminder of the pleasure he’s unleashed inside me.
“Yes, sir,” I murmur, tipping my head back as his fingers retreat, longing for more.
I definitely don’t need reminding. Beneath my fear, beneath the hellish visions threatening to sweep me away, there’s a fire of need in my core. It’s burned continuously since that first moment, here in Draven’s office, when he cornered me against the bookshelves and laid me bare with that intense gaze of his.
“That is all this is,” he continues, his hands returning to my calves once more. “Another layer of trust.”
He seems to be waiting for confirmation that I understand, so I nod again. I do trust him—at least more than I trust myself right now, but I’m not sure that’s saying much.
“You were right—there are wolves in the room now,” he tells me. “But you must trust that I will not let them harm you. They obey me completely. Just as you’ve agreed to do.”
All the air is sucked out of the room as his words confirm my fears, and I clench my trembling hands into fists. I want to scamper off the chaise lounge and curl into a ball under Draven’s desk, but he’s forbidden me to move.
Part of me is screaming to do it anyway—fuck his rules.
He can’t possibly understand what he’s asking of me.
The other part of me is numb, vacant and hollow, in utter disbelief that my demons are a few feet away.
A wave of dizziness hits me, and I tuck my face against the cool leather of the chaise, wrapping my arms around my head, trying to still the spinning world. I want to believe him, and I want to have the same strength of conviction he carries in his tone, but he wants too much.
This is more than I ever expected to give. I’m not ready for this.
The faster my heart beats, the slower time seems to pass, until it’s languishing near a standstill and my pulse is pounding madly. The space between us is pregnant with expectation as Draven awaits my reply, but I can’t give him what he wants.
Sweat pricks along the back of my hairline, and a drop slides down my neck, following the curve of my spine. My mind is torn in half as I weigh which is the lesser of two evils—going along with whatever he has in store, or disobeying him.
It was only mere minutes ago when Draven made my body seize with ecstasy, and now I’ve been catapulted straight into a tumultuous choice between two hells.
19
Jemma
I can’t do it. Does he not see how broken I am?
Does he not see that I’m defenseless against the battle that’s waged inside me ever since that fateful night? Does he not know the power he holds over me—that even as the fear rises in my throat and threatens to suffocate me, I still long to obey him?
Maybe he does. Maybe he takes perverse joy in inflicting this mental anguish.
As though he can read my thoughts, his grip tightens against my legs. “This is for you, Fawn.”
His voice beckons me into compliance, a seductive sincerity laced into his trademark tone of absolute authority. But still, I shake my head, a wordless rebuttal. This isn’t for me. I didn’t ask for this.
“You need to know that you are safe at my side, even among the wolves,” he tells me. “It’s critical that you accept this truth, because it will keep you calm during the Tribunal.”
Impatience rings through in the clipped delivery of his words, but there’s no anger underlying it, no malice at my refusal. Just an unfettered confidence that he knows exactly what I need and that this would all go smoothly if I bend to his will.
He’s wrong, though.
I have no doubt he could eliminate every physical threat to cross my path, but he can’t stop the terror that unfolds every night in my memories. The best he can do is offer me a temporary refuge—to fill my mind and body with enough pain and pleasure to keep the demons at bay.
But only for a little while. They’ll find me eventually, worming their way through the black recesses of my mind until they’ve captured me in their tenacious grip once again.
I weave my fingers through my hair, grasping thick handfuls and squeezing until the strands pull painfully against my scalp. It’s all I can do as I try to hold on to the thinning threads of my sanity.
“I’m never safe,” I whisper, choking the words out. “Not on the inside.”
“One step at a time, Fawn,” Draven replies. “You can’t defeat your enemies if you always run from them. You must learn to face them. And I will keep you safe while you do so. Do you understand?”
“No.” Even as I shake my head again, his words slide past my resistance and settle inside me like a dark promise, etching themselves into the wounds of my soul.
I want so much to believe him. To be able to walk into the fight with my head held high. To know that with him by my side, I’m strong enough to face my fears.
Despite the blindfold blocking out everything from my vision, I squeeze my eyes tight as I take in a shuddering breath.
Goddammit. I can’t go on like this. Afraid to live. Afraid to die. Afraid of my own shadow.
I’ve been robbed of happiness, of love, of peace. And it keeps going on and on, each year, like a calendar made of dominoes falling in a never-ending circle. Every time I quiver with fear and retreat further from the world, a little more of my future is swallowed up. All I’m doing is feeding the beasts that haunt me.
“Okay.” I can barely force the word out, and even as my lips part to speak, I have no faith that
I’ll survive Draven’s test. This shattered soul is all I have left to offer, though.
I feel, rather than hear, the hum of approval from Draven, the deep, warm sound vibrating through me like a salve.
“They’re about two feet away,” he says as his fingers dig into me, massaging my aching muscles, encouraging me to relax into him. “One on either side. You could reach out and touch them.”
An involuntary whimper escapes me at the idea, and he shushes me. It’s all I can do to focus on his hands and his anchoring presence and not on the terror in front of me.
“Tell me that you’re safe.” His order is gentle, but that’s like saying a knife’s blade is less dangerous than the edge of a sharpened sword.
Still, I can’t find the words. I don’t know if I can obey him, even though I want to. I’m not safe, and no amount of uttered words will magically shield me from the malevolence these beasts possess.
“Jemma...”
The expectation is clear in his voice, and I know I’m pushing him too far. For a man who demands complete obedience and has no patience, he’s given me what amounts to an eternity to cooperate. I know he’s at the edge of his tolerance, but I still can’t comply, and I dread what my defiance might bring.
This isn’t what I agreed to. For the first time since our arrangement began, I feel completely in over my head. I’m swimming in deep, murky waters and the waves are washing over my face, the churning liquid threatening to pull me under.
I can’t stomach the disappointment and wrath that I’ll elicit from Draven with my disobedience. But I can’t face the wolves, either.
Oh God. What if he uses the wolves to punish me? What if he gets so angry at my disobedience that he leaves me here alone with them?
A new wave of panic erupts inside me. The urge to flee builds like acid in my muscles until it’s searing through me, and I can’t contain it any longer. I kick back against him, trying to scramble away. I’m sobbing loudly, but I don’t care. I have to get out. I have to run.
