"That's right," Mason said, and something flickered in his eyes, approval, maybe, or satisfaction that I understood. Hisjaw relaxed just slightly, though his posture remained rigid with authority. "You endangered yourself. You violated our trust. You put us through hell." He paused, letting the words sink in, letting me feel the weight of them pressing down on my shoulders like stones. "Now you need to understand that actions have consequences."
"I understand," I said, and I meant it. I did. My voice was steady despite the trembling in my limbs, despite the fear and anticipation coiling in my stomach.
"Over my knee." The command was simple, direct, allowing no room for argument. His hand patted his thigh once, a gesture that was almost casual but carried the weight of absolute expectation. I moved without hesitation, positioning myself across his lap, my stomach pressed against his thighs.The position was vulnerable, exposed, and I felt heat rush to my cheeks even as my heart hammered with anticipation and fear.
Mason's hand came to rest on the small of my back, heavy and warm, holding me in place. With his other hand, he lifted the hem of the oversized shirt I was wearing — one of Caleb's, the only thing I'd worn for the past three days, and pushed it up over my hips, baring my ass to the cool air of the room. I wasn't wearing anything underneath. I heard Leo's sharp intake of breath, felt the weight of all their gazes on my exposed skin, and had to fight the urge to squirm.
"You'll count each one," Mason said, his voice calm and controlled despite the tension I could feel thrumming through his body, vibrating through his thighs where they pressed against my stomach. His hand rested heavy on my lower back, pinning me in place with gentle but unmistakable authority. "If you lose count, we start over. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I whispered, bracing myself for what was coming, my fingers curling against the hardwood floor, my whole body tense with anticipation.
"Yes, what?" The correction was immediate, his voice sharpening with expectation, reminding me of my place in this moment.
"Yes, Alpha." The title fell from my lips automatically, instinctively, and I felt something in him relax at the submission in my voice.
The first strike came without warning. Mason's hand connected with my ass in a sharp, resounding crack that echoed through the silent room like a gunshot. Pain bloomed across my skin, hot and immediate, spreading outward in waves that made my whole body jerk. I gasped, my body lurching forward involuntarily, my fingers scrabbling against the floor for purchase.
"Count," Mason said, his voice hard as iron, brooking no hesitation, no delay.
"One," I managed, my voice shaking, my breath coming in quick, shallow pants as the pain radiated through my flesh. The second strike landed on the other cheek, just as hard, just as sharp, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. I cried out, a high, wounded sound that I couldn't suppress, my body jerking against his hold.
"Two." The word came out strangled, barely recognizable. He didn't pause between strikes, didn't give me time to recover or prepare. Each blow landed with precise, deliberate force, covering every inch of my ass with burning pain that built and built until I couldn't tell where one strike ended and another began. By five, I was crying, tears streaming down my face and dripping onto the floor in a steady patter. By seven, I was sobbing, the numbers barely intelligible through my ragged breaths, my whole body shaking with the force of my tears.
"Eight," I choked out, my voice raw and broken, my fingers white-knuckled against the floor. "Nine... t-ten." Mason's hand stilled on my burning skin, and for a moment, there was only thesound of my ragged breathing and the crackling of the fire, the room holding its breath around us.
"This is because we love you," Mason said, his voice rough with emotion he was trying to hide, cracking at the edges despite his best efforts at control. His hand rubbed gentle circles on my lower back, soothing and painful all at once, the tenderness a stark contrast to the punishment he'd just delivered. "Because losing you would destroy us. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I sobbed, my face wet with tears, my ass throbbing with heat that pulsed in time with my racing heart. "Yes, Alpha. I understand."
"Good." He helped me up, steadying me when my legs threatened to give out, his hands gentle on my waist despite the hardness still lingering in his eyes. He held me for just a moment, his thumbs brushing against my hip bones, before releasing me and turning toward his brother. "Caleb. You're next."
I turned to face Caleb, my heart clenching at the expression on his face. He looked... broken. His pale eyes were wet, swimming with tears he was barely holding back, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin, his massive hands trembling at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them. The firelight caught the moisture on his lashes, making them glitter like frost.
He sat down in the chair Mason had vacated, the wood creaking under his weight, and I went to him without being told. When I positioned myself over his lap, I felt the tremor that ran through his body, the way his breath caught in his chest, the slight hitch in his exhale that betrayed his emotional state.
"Caleb," I whispered, reaching back to touch his hand where it rested on my hip. His skin was warm, almost feverish, and I felt the fine trembling in his fingers. "It's okay. I deserve this."
"I know you do," he said, and his voice cracked on the words, shattered into something raw and wounded that made my chest ache with guilt and love in equal measure. His hand flexed against my hip, his fingers digging in briefly before relaxing with visible effort. "That's what makes it so hard."
His first strike was softer than Mason's, hesitant, like he couldn't bear to hurt me even though he knew he had to. The impact barely stung compared to what had come before, and I could feel the reluctance in every line of his body. I counted anyway — "One" — my voice steady despite the tears still tracking down my cheeks, and waited.
The second was harder, his resolve strengthening, his need to make me understand overriding his reluctance to cause me pain. The crack of his palm against my already-tender flesh echoed through the room, and I felt him flinch at the sound.
"Two."
By the fourth strike, he was crying. I could hear it in his ragged breathing, feel it in the way his hand shook against my skin, in the wetness that dripped onto my lower back from above. He hit me anyway, each blow landing with the force of his fear and his grief and his desperate, terrible love.
"I found you in the snow," he said between strikes, his voice breaking on every word, splintering like ice beneath the weight of his emotion. His hand trembled as it connected with my burning flesh, and I heard him choke back a sob. "You were blue. You weren't breathing. I thought—" He stopped, his whole body shaking with a sob he couldn't suppress, his other hand gripping my hip so tight it would leave bruises. "I thought you were dead, Ava. I held you and you were so cold and I thought I'd lost you."
"Five," I sobbed, reaching back to grip his knee, needing the contact, needing him to know I was here, I was alive, I wasn't going anywhere. My fingers dug into his leg, anchoring myselfto him, trying to convey through touch what words couldn't express. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Caleb."
"Six." His voice was barely audible, wrecked with tears, hoarse with grief. "Seven. Eight." Each number fell from his lips like a prayer, like a penance, and I felt every strike not just in my flesh but in my heart, in the bond that connected us, in the knowledge that I'd done this to him. He pulled me into his arms after the tenth strike, crushing me against his chest with desperate strength, burying his face in my hair as his whole body shook with the force of his grief. His arms wrapped around me like bands of iron, holding me so close I could feel his heartbeat hammering against my chest, could feel the wetness of his tears soaking into my hair.
"Don't ever do that again," he whispered, his arms tight enough to leave marks, his voice muffled against my scalp, broken and desperate and raw. "Promise me. Promise me you'll never leave me again."
"I promise," I said, holding him back just as tightly, my arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, crying into his chest. "I promise, Caleb. Never again. Never."
Mason's voice cut through the moment, gentle but firm, pulling us back to the present. "Ethan."
