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He was right.

“Fine,” I said. “You can stay. Same terms. You can do whatever you want within the scene I already agreed to. But if I say mercy, you both stop. And if I ask for the blindfold off, it comes off. Understood?”

“Understood.” His voice was dark, amused. “We’ll see.”

I heard him move to the cart, heard the faint clink of metal, and then felt a new touch—bare fingers, not gloved—tracing the line of wax on my throat.

“He marked you,” Malachi said quietly. “Left his signature all over your skin. Do you know what that means?”

“Enlighten me.”

“It means he’s claiming you.” His fingers followed the trail of wax down to my collarbone, then lower, stopping just above the edge of my bra. “And I don’t share.”

“So what, I’m inventory now?”

“You’re marked." His thumb pressed harder against my pulse, and I felt it jump. “The House doesn’t let go of things it’s already claimed.”

“The House can choke.”

Then I felt the Butcher’s gloved hand on my other side, mirroring Malachi’s touch, and I realized they were both standing over me—one on each side of the chair.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“That’s the idea,” Malachi said. “Now tell us what you want.”

“I want—” My breath caught as the Butcher’s hand moved lower, skimming the edge of my ribs. “I want to know who’s touching me.”

“No.” His grip on my throat tightened slightly. “That’s not how this works. You gave up sight when you put on the blindfold. Now you have to trust your other senses.”

“Trust isn’t really my thing.”

“Smart.” His mouth brushed against my ear. “It shouldn’t be.”

I heard him move to the cart, heard the faint clink of metal against metal. When he returned, something smooth and cold pressed against my inner thigh.

“You know what this is?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“It’s a House tool. Polished steel. Curved. About the length of my hand.” He dragged it higher, letting me feel its weight and shape. “And I’m going to push it inside you while I make you come with my mouth.”

My breath stopped.

“Unless you say mercy,” he continued. “In which case I stop immediately, and we’re done. So tell me, little flower. Do you want this, or do you want me to put it back on the cart?”

The smart answer was mercy. The honest answer was something else entirely.

“Do it.”

“Say it properly.”

“I want you to use that tool on me.” My voice came out rougher than I meant it to. “I want you inside me. I want your mouth on me. I want to come while you’re watching me fall apart.”

“There it is.” His hand moved to my ankle and unbuckled the restraint. “Spread your legs.”

I obeyed, my thighs falling open, and felt his hands push my skirt up to my waist. The air was cold against my exposed skin, and I realized the Butcher was still standing somewhere nearby, watching in silence.

“She’s already so wet,” Malachi said, his fingers brushing against my underwear. “Fucking soaked. You like being watched, don’t you?”