I smile against her skin. “You’re going to be wet and horny for us all fucking day. Both of us will know exactly why you can’t sit still.”
She shudders and exhales, fingers curling into the sheet.
“Breathe.” I let her feel the heat of my words against her. “You’re going to feel a pinch, then pressure, then my jewelry sitting right here where we can see it every time we spread you open.”
Her thighs tremble.
I slide the cold receiving tube beneath the hood. She gasps, back arching a fraction.
“Still,” Hunter murmurs, and his palm settles heavy on her sternum, pinning her like an offering.
I line the needle up. The tip kisses skin.
“Vertical hood,” I say, soft enough it’s almost reverent. “My favorite.”
One smooth thrust—skin parts, steel slides clean through.
Her cry is bright and startled, but Hunter’s hand keeps her flat.
I slip the metal in after it and latch it in place, leaning back to admire the gleam nestled against her swollen clit like it was forged for her alone.
Perfect.
I press gauze over the fresh piercing, tape it gently, then stroke my thumb up the inside of her thigh–possessive, soothing.
“Done.” I strip the gloves, drop them in the tray. “That one never comes out. Ever. Understand?”
She nods, eyes glassy, breath hitching on little sobs.
But Hunter isn’t finished.
He leans down and braces one hand beside her head. “Tell me, Hex,” he whispers against her ear, voice velvet and vicious. “Tell me exactly what it felt like.”
She tries to turn her face away. He doesn’t let her.
“No hiding. I want every detail.” His fingers ghost down her sternum, stopping just above the gauze. “Did the needle burn cold at first? Did it bloom hot when it punched through?”
“It… it was cold,” she whispers, voice trembling. “Like ice right at the tip, then… then like a tooth biting down all at once. It burned hot after, spreading out, throbbing so hard I felt it in my spine.”
Her thighs try to close; I hold them open without thinking.
Hunter’s breath hitches, audible. “Keep going.”
“And when the needle went all the way through,” she chokes, tears slipping into her hair, “I felt empty and full at the same time and I—” Her voice cracks completely. “It hurt.” She swallows. “Hurts.”
A low, animal sound leaves Hunter’s throat. He’s rocking forward on the balls of his feet, cock straining so hard against his jeans the outline is obscene. With tense shoulders, he calls to Ares, “Komm,” and exits the room with the dog at his heels. Once they’re gone, I look back down at Arianette, taking in the way Hunter’s questions brought out the shame and the helpless arousal warring across her face. Something dark and satisfied unfurls in my chest.
I lean over her, cage her with my arms, and let her see the truth carved into my smile.
“You’re ours, Baroness,” I say, brushing my thumb over the fresh piercing until she jerks and whimpers. “Mine and Hunter’s. The King’s. But this—this little piece of metal kissing your clit every second of every day—this is your reminder that no matter how far you run, no matter the destruction you cause, you’re mine.”
I press down just enough to make her cry out again.
“And now you’ll never forget who you belong to first.”
I’m perchedon the edge of the mattress that used to be Armand’s, watching Arianette sleep in the middle of his bed like she’s not the reason it’s empty. Her dark hair fans across the pillow, one bare leg kicked out from the sheets. She slept fitfully, I could hear her tossing and turning in the bed across from mine. God knows if it was nightmares from the ritual or discomfort from between her legs.
Maybe both.
