Page 28

Lucky

Sticks and stones may give you a bone,

but a sadist will love and destroy you.

Jasper closes the door behind him, and we’re enclosed in moody, secretive darkness. It smells like rich leather and expensive oils. Deep wood warms the walls, and a buttery bronze gleams from ceiling hooks and fixtures. Each tool hangs with exacting precision in neat, ordered rows. His art.

The lock clicks shut, and my breathing slows. The air grows very, very still.

His room is my church.

There’s a reverence here that swallows sound. An expectation that has a weight. It’s the one place in the world where it doesn’t feel right to raise my voice.

Which is probably for the best, anyway, since I just about shouted it raw at Jayk.

That fucking asshole.

I roll my shoulders uneasily, shaking off the worries I don’t want chasing me here.

I’m slow to advance inside the room, letting the peculiar peace of this place soften the edges of my restless panic. My pulse quiets to a deep, steady throb, and I trail my fingers along the padded spanking bench.

It soothes me.

Jasper sweeps into the room, his boots clicking on the floorboards, shattering the silence.

“Impact floor, Lucien.” I startle at his clipped tone. “Inspection position.”

I eye him cautiously as he considers the tool wall, but he’s too veiled by shadows for me to make out his face. He seems... off . Jasper is a patient predator—slow, deliberate, and lethal.

He’s not usually so abrupt.

Jasper unhooks something, and my attention switches to the display, alarm spiking. Crap . What did he take? The knives are in a separate drawer, so not those. The masks and canes and crops are still there. So is the shock collar, violet wand, his vampire gloves...

He turns, and I only glimpse the dull shine of coiled black leather in his hands before he spots me.

His mouth thins into a ruinous line. “What part of that sounded like a request to you?”

Shit.

I jump into a walk only slightly shy of a run, and his dark eyes have a biting pressure on my back. I’m halfway to the floor before it even occurs to me to sass him.

Jasper is in a mood .

Nervous, excited shivers trip down my spine. I’m ready for him to distract me. To hurt me. Whether I anoint these floors with tears or blood or cum, I’ll face my reckoning here. It doesn’t matter what tools he chooses—in Jasper’s hand, even a feather can be as vicious as a blade.

I want him to be vicious.

Nothing else has been working lately. I need him to pull me out of my head and back into my skin.

The impact floor has high ceilings with discreet bars and hooks that can be used for suspension. I stop in the middle of the wide, cleared space and hesitate, realizing I’m already in trouble.

Inspection position.

Crap. How do I do that one again?

Jasper’s boots echo around the room, and fear thrills through me as he approaches.

Running on instinct, I stand straight, chin up, arms down by my side, my legs together.

I.. . think this is it?

It’s a military position. I’ve spent hours standing like this in tidy ranks, soaked in rain and baked by sweltering suns with Dom staring down my uniform for the smallest imperfection.

I scour my brain, trying to remember if I learned it at the kink club too.

I’m sure there was one crossover position.

My memory sucks, though.

Darkside’s mandatory training courses were great for a lot of reasons, but unless the class involved someone trying to fuck or hurt me, my attention to my studies was spotty at best. But the position seems right.

Right?

I hold my breath as he stops in front of me, his face shadowed. I can’t tell if I’ve chosen correctly or not.

His soft mouth is terse. “Safeword?”

“Houston,” I tell him huskily.

It’s the first step in our ritual, one of the little rules Jasper refuses to ignore or bend, and it puts another brick back under me.

But there’s no ghost of his usual, begrudging humor at my safeword.

In fact, there’s no warmth at all in his face.

Jasper’s eyelashes curtain his eyes, but I’m getting better at seeing the things he tucks away . . . and his unhappiness is thick as smog, heavy under his pretty cruelty.

If this is my church, my god is displeased.

My worry spikes, but he starts circling me slowly before I can speak, his skin glowing in the low lights.

He’s painfully beautiful.

Jasper’s always been dangerous, but today, the threat of him isn’t disguised under cool silks and hot tea.

He’s in his full uniform, and between the dusty malice and that glacial expression, he looks ready to punish and rend.

It’s only then I see the spiteful bullwhip now attached to his belt, and my mouth goes dry.

That whip is trouble.

The best, most terrifying kind.

I swallow hard, trying to work some moisture back into my mouth. Me. He’s ready to punish and rend me .

“Is there anything you would like to add to your usual limits?” he asks.

The boot clicks pause behind me.

Shit.

His breath stirs my hair, and the back of my neck prickles in warning.

“Ah.. .” I clear my throat. “Nope. I’m good. Great, even. I think I?—”

“Good.”

Jasper grasps my wrist, then wrenches it up so my hand is behind my head. His grip is merciless, cruel, and I shudder as he does the same to the other.

The painful pressure is sweet. Just the smallest tease of what’s coming.

“You have miserable form, Lucien,” he says, his breath hot against my ear. “Are you aggravating me on purpose, or do you simply not care enough to apply yourself?”

My cheeks sting with embarrassment.. . and more than a little lust.

He hasn’t used this tone with me since he told me he loved me.

But that unhappiness in him puts me in a chokehold.

I’m about to reply when Jasper knocks out the back of my knee, unbalancing me, then kicks my leg wide. His hand comes up between my thighs, and I tense, heat flushing through me as he adjusts my stance with casual ownership.

Fuck .

“Feet hip-width apart. Hands behind your head. Shoulders straight, chest out,” he corrects me. When I don’t move quickly enough, he draws my elbows back, sharply. “Chest out , Lucien.”

My shoulders bunch as I push myself into the exposed, uncomfortable position.

There’s a pause as he adjusts me again, then a cool, distracting hand slides over the tense muscles. It traces the slope of my back. His hand barely touches my uniform, but I shiver at the contact.

I know why he’s brought me here—and he didn’t drag me away from Eden’s door for another lecture, or for one of the few hurried fucks we’ve been able to steal these last two weeks.

We both need this.

“ This is Inspection.” Jasper’s boots resume their clicks around me as he assesses every inch of my posture.

He comes into view, and I find myself examining him just as closely.

“You were in Attention. Learn the difference,” he advises coldly.

My heart tugs at the familiar, icy mask. I hate that mask. He’s worn it for too many years and hid too many things behind it. I don’t want him to hide anymore. Not here. Not with me. But I don’t know how to reach him when he’s like this. I’ve never been good at it.

I cast about for a reply that won’t frustrate him further.

Eden’s sweet, teary face pops into my mind. The way she whispered to him during the bond-fire.

The way he reacted.

Clearing my throat, I offer a shaky, “I’ll remember, Jasper... if it pleases you.”

Jasper’s gaze lifts, startled enough to be downright offensive. Okay, so I might need a few reminders on details, but I did learn all the fancy high protocol stuff. It’s not my fault I find it about as interesting as watching my toenails grow.

But it does seem to have an immediate effect.

“Obedience?” He stops in front of me, his head canting curiously. “You surprise me.”

He’s still beautiful—still cold, severe marble—but the harshness trickles out of his tone. Dark, fathomless eyes bore into me. “No sass for me today?” He steps closer, and I can taste his breath. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

I feel his approval like a fist around my cock.

His lips purse again as he hums speculatively. “Won’t that be a nice change.”

I . . . did that actually work?

Desperate to warm that cool expression, I offer him a hesitant, playful smile. The one that usually makes him stare at my lips like he wants to bite them.

And I take a risk.

“I mean, you are taking your sweet time. Another submissive might call you a grumpy, ineffective sadist who can’t recognize the right end of a whip.”

He doesn’t reply.

Oooh, I’m an idiot. This isn’t risky. This is hazardous .

My blood pressure rises with the slow, chilly lift of his brow, and I flinch as he reaches up to unbuckle one of the straps on my kit. Standing the way I am, I’m completely exposed to his touch. My breathing gets shallow as those deft, deathly fingers work to strip me.

I can’t tell if this is making his mood better or worse.

His bullwhip slithers at his hip.

“I could say that,” I clarify nervously. “But I wouldn’t. Probably. Because I’m being so obedient and all.”

There’s a long, tense moment where I can’t breathe at all.

Then, finally, I see that severe mouth soften, just a fraction. A hint of wry amusement touching its edges.

My legs wobble in relief.

I debate my next words. I could let this happen. I’m sure he’ll devastate me, and I’ll thank him for it, but... that tiny downcast to his expression is wrecking me worse than any whip. “I think I’d rather ask why you look like someone just tied all your favorite floggers into knots.”

His hands pause for a moment, then resume their motions. He unstraps the last buckles on my kit, loosening it. There was a time it took him longer, but it’s second nature now. A smooth, methodical undressing.

He still doesn’t look at me. “This scene is for you, Lucien. And long overdue. I’m quite all right.”

Buckle. Zip. Buckle. Buttons.

“Please,” I whisper, stung that he’d think I’m so selfish.