“He says I have to get married to you,” I say. “That’s what we argued about.” Reminding him that he and I are on opposite sides of that argument.
“He should still be kinder to you.”
“You can’t confront him just for hurting my feelings.” That won’t end well. “Don’t hurt my father. Promise me.”
But he can’t promise. Because if Fraternitas gives him the order, then my father is dead. And probably so am I, for that matter.
Kaiser isn’t a comfort. He’s a sword hanging over us. Nothing more. And here I am, crying on his shoulder. Some supervillain I’m turning out to be.
It’s all part of my master plan, I tell myself. I wanted to get him to let his guard down.
But I don’t feel very clever or powerful. I feel weak and miserable.
“I’m cold,” I say, even though I’m just numb. I rub my arms to sell it, but when he studies me with those too-wise eyes, I don’t think I’m really hiding anything.
* * *
Kaiser
* * *
When Bella started crying, I wanted to destroy things. I knew she was overstimulated, that the tears leaking down her cheeks were a release.
But I still wanted to hurt someone for doing this to her. Her father.
She looks at me with real fear that I might storm out of here and shake him down. Because of course she’s afraid of that. I’m the bad guy.
And I’m the reason she’s crying. The scene was intense. I lost control of the predator in me and wanted to punish her for the way she drives me to obsess over her. For the way my skin has been tingling nonstop in her presence.
Bella is my responsibility now. She’s not in control; I am. I need to take care of her because she thinks she has no limits. I need to set the boundaries that she won’t.
Usually, I love the sight of a fucktoy’s tears, but not these. My cock is hard because I’m with her, but I have no desire to fuck her right now. Pain slices through me. It feels like someone slashed me with a knife, but it hurts much worse. I know it’s all in my head, but it doesn’t help.
I want to stab myself for hurting her. It’s a strange feeling, all my violence turning inward. How can someone so small have such power over me?
“Let’s go to bed,” I say, and she sighs, curling into me. She’s still in the harness, but she doesn’t seem to notice it.
I find her wrists and rub the red marks there. I’m a piece of shit. I kiss each fingertip. “You did well tonight. You’re good, so good for me.”
She huffs like she doesn’t believe me.
“You are. It’s my fault it got too intense. I pushed too hard and got carried away.”
“You didn’t?—”
“I did. But you did so good for me.”
“Really?” She sounds so lost, it’s breaking my heart. I rub her back.
“Really. And it’s okay to cry. It’s a release.”
She sniffles. I ease her up and unwind the rope harness. I massage her marked skin for a moment and lie back so I can pull her over me. She sighs, settling her weight on me. I can’t feel anything, my skin is still weirdly numb like I’m wearing a layer of armor or latex, but the weight of her body is perfection. I love how she curls into me, pressing her face into my chest. It’s as close to heaven as I’ll ever be.
My dick is poking into her, but I ignore it. This isn’t about me. It’s about her. I run a hand up her back, finding the rope patterns and rubbing to smooth them out.
“It was intense,” she admits.
I stroke her hair, encouraging her to talk. Sometimes I mute her so she gets out of her own head. But right now she needs to process.
