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 quietsnickof the buckle, thewhooshof 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.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sage
The first lash lands sharp across my ass, a clean line of fire that snaps through me like lightning. I jolt forward with a gasp, the sting flaring hot, but grounding. For a breath, it silences everything else: the guilt, the chaos, the ache in my chest. All of it fades behind the crack of leather.
"Count," Asher says, voice cold as ice, absolute command.
"One," I breathe out, shaky.
Crack.
The second lands just above the first. I suck in a breath, my knees tightening, the bedpost cool under my grip.
"Two," I whisper, my voice trembling.
