His footsteps in the corridor were measured. Controlled. Not rushed. Like he had all the time in the world to deal with his bratty mate who'd just proven she couldn't be trusted alone for an hour.
The door opened.
Zephyron stood in the doorway, still in his council attire—midnight and silver that made his storm-gray hair look even paler. His eyes had gone electric blue. Not with anger. With focused attention. With certainty.
He took in the scene with one sweeping glance. Me sitting on the floor, lightning dancing across my skin, my expression probably some mixture of defiant and apologetic. The brokenlamp. The scorch marks. The faint smell of ozone and burned carpet.
His expression remained controlled. But through the bond, I felt his assessment. Noting every detail. Cataloging the evidence. Making decisions about what came next.
"My study," he said quietly. His voice carried that electric undertone. Not raised. Didn't need to be raised. Just absolute. "Now."
He turned and walked away. Didn't wait to see if I'd follow. Knew I would.
I stood on shaking legs. The electricity finally settled, crackling down to faint sparks. I followed him into the corridor.
The walk to his study was silent. His footsteps steady and certain. Mine hesitant, almost shuffling. Through the bond, I felt his continued assessment. He was noting how the lightning scars on my arms glowed brighter when I was anxious. How I was trying not to smile despite the situation. How this had been deliberate rule-breaking, not accidental.
He knew. He'd known I'd do this. Had felt it through the bond when he'd given me the instruction. Had watched me agree while already planning mischief.
And now I was going to learn what happened when I pushed his boundaries.
The study door closed behind us with a soft click that sounded too final.
Chapter 6
Daddy.Justsaysomething,Daddy.
His chair creaked slightly under his weight.
He didn't gesture.
Didn't speak.
Just looked at me with those storm-gray eyes that had gone electric blue, crackling with contained power that made the air taste metallic.
I stood just inside the doorway of his study. My hands twisted together, electricity still sparking weakly between my fingers because I couldn't quite get control of my power when I was this anxious. The lightning scars on my arms pulsed in rhythm with my racing heartbeat.
The silence stretched. Heavy. Deliberate. He was making me wait. Making me stand there while he assessed me with that predatory focus that said he'd already cataloged every detail—the scorch marks probably still visible on my clothes, the way I couldn't quite meet his eyes, the defiant tilt of my chin despite my obvious nerves.
Through the bond, I felt his emotional state.
Not anger.
Never anger.
Just controlled authority. The Storm Lord who'd caught his mate being spectacularly bratty and was now going to address it exactly as promised.
My stomach clenched. Not with fear. With anticipation. With the need to know if this was real.
Finally, he gestured. One precise movement of his hand, indicating the space directly in front of his desk. "Here."
I crossed the study on shaking legs. Stood where he'd indicated, close enough that I could see the way electricity danced faintly across his knuckles. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.
He leaned back in his chair. Steepled his fingers under his chin. The position was casual but his eyes were anything but. They tracked across my face, lingering on my flushed cheeks, my trembling hands, the lightning scars glowing brighter with my anxiety.
"Tell me which rule you broke," he said quietly. His voice carried that electric undertone. Not raised. Didn't need to be raised. "And why you chose to break it."
The words hung in the air between us. This was it. The moment where I either deflected and made excuses—High Priestess mode, trained to justify every action—or I told the truth.
