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“I love it,” I tell him, meaning so much more than just the studio. “I can’t wait to start painting.”

“Painting will have to wait, Princess.”

“Why?” I breathe. But I already know the answer from the heat in his gaze.

“Because.” His hand slides into my hair and tightens just enough to send a thrill down my spine. “First, you need to be punished for making me wait three days to have you again.”

The promise in his words sends heat pooling low in my belly.

This is the other gift Reign gives me. The freedom to want, to need, to surrender without judgment or expectation.

“But what if I’ve been good?” I ask.

“We both know that’s not true.” His smile is slow and predatory. “And besides, good girls don’t get what I’m about to give you.”

THIRTEEN

REIGN

Something primal stirsin my chest as I lead Audrey into my bedroom.

Before I met Audrey, I wasn’tthe dominant type. Growing up, I was the quiet kid who kept to himself. Even in the military, I led through competence and respect, not intimidation or control. But something about Audrey unlocks a part of me I didn’t know existed—a need to possess, to claim, to mark her as mine in ways that would make a caveman proud.

I set her on her feet beside my bed, watching her take in the space.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, moving toward the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the mountains. The fading sunlight catches in her hair, turning the dark strands to burnished gold. “The view is incredible.”

I don’t give a shit about the view. Not when she’s standing in my bedroom, in my territory, close enough to touch but still clothed. Still not completely mine.

“Before we start,” I say, closing the distance between us, “we need to establish something.”

Her eyes meet mine, curious but not afraid. Never afraid, not of me. It’s one of the things that drives me fucking crazy abouther—the trust she places in me despite knowing what I am, what I’m capable of.

“Colors,” I tell her, my hand coming up to cup her face. “Green means continue. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop immediately. Understand?”

She nods, her pulse visibly quickening beneath the delicate skin of her throat. “Green, yellow, red. I understand.”

“Good girl. Now tell me who you belong to.”

Her breath catches, but her gaze doesn’t waver. “You.”

One word. So simple. So fucking perfect. But not enough.

“Say it again.” My thumb traces her lower lip, pressing slightly. “Who do you belong to, Audrey?”

“I belong to you, Reign. Only you.”

I back her against the window, my body caging hers, one hand braced beside her head while the other slides to her throat. Not squeezing, just resting there, feeling her pulse race beneath my palm.

“And what happens to things that belong to me when someone else touches them?”

“They get punished,” she whispers.

“That’s right.” I lean closer, my lips brushing her ear. “And you’ve been very, very bad, princess. Haven’t you?”

She nods, her hands coming up to rest against my chest. “Yes, I’ve been bad.”

I have no idea what the fuck I’m even saying right now doing. The words coming out of my mouth feel foreign, like someone else is speaking through me. But the way she responds—the quickening of her breath, the dilation of her pupils, the subtle arch of her body toward mine—tells me I’m on the right track.