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So instead, I met his gaze head-on, my grin widening as I leaned against the table, my fingers trailing lightly over the wood.

“You talk about putting me over your knee like I’m supposed to be afraid of that.” I cocked my head, eyes gleaming. “I hate to break it to you, Alpha, but a little spanking isn’t gonna scare me.”

Silas froze mid-bite, then, slowly, he set his fork down. His eyes locked onto mine, dark and intense, and a muscle in his jaw ticked.

“You sure about that, Wildcat?” His voice was a deep, smooth threat.

A hot sensation shivered through my belly, but I refused to let him see it. I shrugged one shoulder, feigning boredom. “It didn’t seem to deter me last night.”

A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips, and fuck, I felt that look in places I shouldn’t.

He leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

I grinned, my tone light. “Not afraid of you, Alpha.”

Silas shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Gonna fucking regret that later.”

Then he picked up his fork and took another bite, like he was letting me think I had won. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t plotting something wicked in that calculating mind of his.

I watched him from across the table, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floor. He was taking his sweet time finishing his breakfast, his golden eyes flickering up at me every few bites, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Was he really going to spank me again? The vision of me over his knee flashed in my head and I squeezed my thighs together, nervous and somehow still excited and aroused

I shifted, pretending like I wasn’t watching the way his hands flexed around his fork, like I wasn’t already bracing myself for whatever came next.

Like I wasn’t thinking about last night: the heat of his palm against my bare skin, the way he had held me balanced me over his thigh so effortlessly, the way every blazing hot, stinging smack had sent pleasure and pain snaking together in my stomach until I couldn’t tell the difference.

I shouldn’t want this. Ishouldn’t.

Yet, my breath hitched when he finally set his fork down, wiped his mouth with slow precision, and pushed his empty plate aside.

Then he stood up, pulled on a pair of jeans like he had all the time in the world, and turned his gaze on me.

The air between us shifted. He was all muscle and raw power, every inch of him perilous, and I felt it when he started toward me. My heart slammed against my ribs, anticipation coiling inside, my breath catching as he crossed the room with slow, measured steps.

When he stopped in front of me, I had to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze, had to fight the shiver that crawled down my spine at the way he looked at me, like I was already his captive, like I belonged to him, like I was already his.

Which I wasn’t… right?

He lifted a hand to me, palm up, fingers slightly curled.

Waiting.

“It’s time, little mate.”

The words sent a pulse of heat through me, pooling deep in my belly, making my thighs press together on instinct.

I knew what he meant.

For a second, I hesitated. Not because I was afraid, but because I was too damn curious. The thought of his hands on me again, the thought of being bare and over his lap, of being put in my place…

Fuck.

I licked my lips, my fingers twitching, my skin burning with the anticipation.

This was inevitable. He knew it. I knew it.

So, rolling my eyes and feigning bold confidence, I took his hand and allowed him to lead me across the room to the bed.