I wasn’t surprised.
Raia had always possessed a talent for putting people exactly where they needed to be. I understood what Polina was telling me. Not just that she had chosen this room, but that she understood exactly what it was for and had walked into it with her eyes open. No Hecate. No performance. No audience. Just Polina, standing in front of me exactly as she was and choosing to be there.
The distinction meant everything. She knew it did. That was why she had said it.
I crossed the distance between us. Stopped close enough that the warmth of her reached me and lifted one hand and tucked a strand of hair back from her face, the same gesture, the same deliberate gentleness, the same giving of time to say no if she wanted to. She turned her face into my hand, the same way she had the first night in her room, and I felt it in every place the weeks since had left me open.
“Polina.” Her name. The real one. The only one, in this room, tonight. “I am going to spend a considerable amount of time making it worth your while.”
“I know,” she said. Her voice had dropped to something quieter, the composure beginning its willing dissolution. “That’s why I’m here.”
I looked at her for one more moment, under the composed surface, the fierce clear eyes, the woman who had chosen this with full knowledge and no illusions, and felt, with a certaintyand with none of the professional distance I usually kept between myself and the things that mattered, that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Then I took her hand and allowed her to lead me to the prepared room, closing the door behind us.
Asgard had been built as a kingdom. There were spaces meant for large gatherings, private chambers reserved for its core members, luxury woven into every corner, and select rooms where people came to explore the things they trusted few others to understand.
The shibari suspension frame stood in the center of the room.
Along one wall hung neatly organized coils of hemp rope in varying lengths and diameters.
So this was how my little bird wanted to fly.
On a nearby bureau sat a carefully chosen selection of implements.
The choice resonated somewhere deep inside me.
For years I had been prolific at my craft. Respected. Sought after. A master within the shibari community.
But the heart of me had always been something else.
A sadist.
Not because I enjoyed suffering. Because I understood thresholds. The narrow space where sensation became surrender, where trust became something undeniable.
Women had spent years seeking me out for that experience.
But somewhere along the way I had outgrown the performance of it. The scene. The role.
What I wanted now, with her, was something built on trust and longevity.
Something real.
“I couldn’t have prepared this room better myself.”
A faint smile touched her face.
“But before we do anything else, I need to know this is truly your choice.”
The smile faded, replaced by the attentive stillness I had come to know so well.
“When you asked for space, I made sure you were somewhere nobody had authority over you. Nobody had control over you. Not me. Not anyone.”
I held her gaze.
“This isn’t a club scene, Polina. We left that behind a long time ago.”
My voice softened.
