She mixes my drink without another word. The amaretto and orange juice smell sweet and strong. I take a slow sip and scan the room.
Tokens everywhere. Green. Blue. Red. White. It’s like watching a language only certain people understand. I like it that way—like being fluent in something private.
There’s a girl kneeling by the stage, head tilted up, waiting. A dom stands behind her, hand on her shoulder. He’s saying something soft, something that makes her smile. I feel that ache in my chest, the good kind, the one that means I’m too far inside my own head again.
If Gideon were here, I wouldn’t be thinking at all. I’d be in his hands, probably bent over something expensive, my hair pulled, my mind blank.
If Silas were here, I’d test him until he let me take control. Just once. Just to see if he’d let me get away with it.
I swirl my drink and try to shake the thought out. I came here to relax, not to spiral.
And then—of course—he walks in.
Talon.
He’s in black again. Always in black. Shirt rolled at the sleeves, necklace glinting at his throat. There’s a blue token hanging against his chest, catching the light. My pulse jumps before my brain catches up.
What the fuck is he doing here again?
Last weekend was supposed to be a one-time mistake. He was new, curious, dumb enough to follow me into my room and let me show him what I do when no one from school is watching.
Now he’s back. With a blue token.
So who’s he here for?
Jealousy burns through me, but I quickly clamp it down. He's my future brother and student. He's nothing but that to me and can't be anything more.
He slides onto the stool next to me like he owns the space. His knuckles are split, skin pink and ragged, a dark smear of dried blood under one nail. Even in Velvet’s low light, it reads like proof he’d been in a scrap — and my stomach flips.
“Hey Baby.”
My jaw tightens. “Talon.”
He grins, eyes flicking down to my necklace. “White and orange tonight? So you’re not sure what you want tonight?”
“Something like that.”
He leans on the bar, close enough that I can smell the soap still clinging to his skin. “You know, you could always ask me nicely.”
I raise a brow. “You wouldn’t survive my nicely.”
He laughs, low and smug, and it hits somewhere I wish it didn’t.
I look at his token again. “Blue suits you,” I say. “Makes sense. You spend your life submitting to Mommy’s every whim, right? Must feel familiar.”
The smile dies. His jaw locks.
“You don’t know shit about me,” he spits. “You don’t know what I’ve done for Abi. Or Minxy.”
I blink, his tone throwing me off for a second.
“I’d cut my fucking dick off if it meant keeping her safe.” His voice cracks just enough to let me know I fucked up.
I open my mouth to apologize. “I’m–”
“Save it,” he snaps. “But I’m not the only one with secrets, am I, Penelope? What would Chaddy Daddy think if he knew his perfect little girl spent her night on her knees being a whore here?”
The hit lands clean, and I flinch.
