Page 33

Jasper

The perfect delivery of pain isn’t in knowing how hard to hit.

It’s in knowing where not to.

I love him.

Lucien settles into Jaykob’s throne, sprawling over it with surprising arrogance. Tendrils of his hair curl around his jaw and flushed cheeks like spun gold.

His restless sadness has been whipped free, and every part of him is languorous. Luminous. His eyes. The red-raw lines that blush his back and thighs and ass. The dimples that shine in his cheeks.

It’s a contagious glow, one I’m sure he pressed into my skin after our scene.

It’s been too long since I’ve had him at my mercy.

Unrestrained. Ungentle. Too long since I was able to break him open and taste his tears.

And better, now. I can love him properly.

He can touch me back. We can be more than just sadist and masochist; we can be something better.

We can just be . . . us.

My heart hasn’t stopped its ache since our aftercare. It’s a pleasant pain, almost exhilarating. It’s as though he’s infected me with his fearlessness, filled me with an urge to do more. To take a risk.

My eyes drift to Eden’s window, and this time I don’t bother to suppress the thrill of need.

I’m done playing nice.

Lucien steeples his fingers, looking down at me where I linger on the grass. “Oh look, a loyal subject. Have you come to bend the knee?”

I raise a brow at him, taking in the lazy tilt to his mouth. The way he kicks one leg over the scrap metal arm. Our bag of questionable supplies sits by the throne.

I climb the steps slowly.

My very skin is vibrant, sensitive, and alive with danger. This is a ridiculous escapade, but I can’t blame Lucien for this foolishness.

This one was my idea.

It’s rather novel, this kind of willful madness.

I stop in front of him. He’s lustrous in the moonlight. He almost looks like a king. That infectious wildness still rides me, and I’m curious enough to indulge him.

Dropping to one knee in front of him, I pull his sprawled legs wider.

Lucien’s smile falls away.

This close, his heat surrounds me. His thighs are tense and corded with muscle under his sweats, and his scent, freshly showered and uniquely him, is so much more present than when our positions are reversed. It’s a curious feeling to be engulfed like this, by him.

“Does this amuse you?” I slide my hands up the inside of his thighs, and his head drops back. The pathetically thin fabric betrays him, and I can see the outline of his cock as he hardens. “Do you want to play king, too?”

This ridiculous throne is the reason we’re here, after all.

He catches his lower lip between his teeth, and he looks down at me through his lashes. One hand finds its way to the back of my head, and he tunnels his fingers through my hair.

I wonder, with casual interest, where he’s taking this.

Lucien is potent. Dangerous to me in so many ways.

His raw strength is its own weapon, one I know he’s relished using on other partners, switching into other roles.

.. and yet he holds himself in check, not trying to move me.

He only rubs the strands of my hair between his fingers, watching me softly.

Lucien doesn’t need to be strong with me.

He doesn’t want to rule.

Amused, I lean forward and press an open-mouthed kiss over the head of his cock.

He’s hot and hard through the fabric, and his fingers clench in my hair as a groan slips out of him.

It’s a vicious sound that makes a vice around my balls.

I’ve exhausted myself on him tonight. My arms ache from the exertion of the whip, and I feel every used muscle in my back. My lust should be slaked.

As if it ever could be, around him.

I trail my mouth over his abdomen. I nip his chest between the unbuttoned swathes of his shirt. Collecting the bag at his feet, I lift myself until I hover over him, resting my knee against his balls. Our mouths are a moment apart.

“Under you. Over you. It doesn’t matter, Lucien. You’ll always be at my mercy.”

His eyes glow, and I kiss him. Every inch of his mouth is godless. The brush of his beard. The bitten roundness of his lower lip. The hot gasp of his breath as I press his brutalized back into the rough-cut metal.

I pull back and drop the heavy bag over his lap.

Cans of spray paint and markers spill out. Ribbons and glitter.

If Jaykob wants to behave this ludicrously, then his creation should reflect the absurdity. And if anyone has the skills to assist me in some light vandalism, it’s Lucien.

Jaykob will learn: I can play in the dirt, too.

I pluck up one yellow can, called “Rubber Ducky Release” of all things, and examine the directions.

Lucien rubs a hand over his mouth, studying me. “You really want to do this? You’re not having, I don’t know, second thoughts?” He tilts his head. “Are you feeling okay?”

Stepping away, I try to catch the light from the house and hold the can back, squinting at the tiny typeface. Why are the instructions so small ? And why on earth are there so many of them?

“Jaykob took something of ours. He should hardly be surprised when we retaliate,” I say absently. Grimacing, I toss the can down to him. “Show me how to use this.”

Lucien catches it, then swings his leg off the arm of the throne. His eyes widen. “Hey, why do you think I know how to use it? Vandalism puts you on Santa’s naughty list, you know.”

“You’re always on the naughty list.”

Unimpressed, I regard him through my lashes, but he just winks, then stands, rolling his shoulders. He eyes me sideways, like he’s puzzled, then glances up at Eden and Jaykob’s window.

I follow his gaze and catch a flash of motion. I freeze, my heart pounding. Are we caught? We need the bag. All evidence. He can prove nothing if we?—

The pale curtains flutter again in the light breeze, and I exhale slowly.

Ignoring my own racing pulse, I quickly reassure him. “If you’re worried about how he’ll respond, don’t be. If Jaykob discovers us, I’ll make sure he turns his wrath on me.”

I won’t have that barbarian wielding his club on Lucien.

Lucien’s dimples reappear, and he tosses me a knowing, twinkly-eyed look. “Well, aren’t you Prince Charming?”

I roll my eyes, but heat tinges my cheeks. He hardly needs me to save him.

Lucien laughs under his breath, then stands, twirling the can in his hands with a practice that tells me he does, indeed, know how to use it.

I scowl. “Why are you resisting me on this? I’m finally indulging in one of your ridiculous little pranks. I thought you would...” I trail off, abruptly feeling foolish. “I thought you’d enjoy this.”

Lucien’s face softens. “You did this for me?”

I purse my lips, staring up at Eden’s window. Her tower. Her prison.

Perhaps I’m the one who would like to steal her away for a change.

“Hmm. Not for me, then.”

I glance at him, frowning, and laughter threads his gaze again as he wanders over to me.

He looks me over, head to toe, then peeks into the open bag on the throne.

He winces. “Okay, so, the enthusiasm is great. Ten points. Very proud. But since you still have your training wheels on for this whole pranking thing, I’m going to let you in on something.

Every brat knows that there’s a line between good fun.

.. and just being a dick.” He shrugs, and the bared muscles of his chest ripple.

“As a subject matter expert, I’ve got to say—we may be straying into dickishness here. ”

Tilting my head, I massage my temple as I regard him. “You went on a hunting trip six months ago and left me a note telling me that you’d left five strips of dried fish in my room.”

His head comes up, and he laughs. “Oh yeah.”

The memory still rankles.

I glare at him. “There were only four strips of fish, Lucien. Four . Do you have any idea how long I spent searching for the fifth?”

He cackles, grinning fondly.

Sourly, I stroll toward him. “Or perhaps you recall the time you convinced me the new blender was voice-activated? Or when you made three of the surveillance screens continuously run dungeon porn during my shift? Was that not dickishness ?” I stop in front of him and mutter, “That isn’t a word, by the way. ”

“I was hoping you’d get ideas.” At my violently unimpressed look, he shrugs one shoulder, and his smile sobers.

He adjusts the fall of my shirt. “Look, the guys on the squad, they used to give him shit about it. Jayk, I mean. The whole king thing, him still living in his trailer—dumb jock stuff, but I kind of got the impression it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. ”

That gives me pause.

I think back to those years, running over my notes in my head. “That never came up in our sessions.”

Lucien snorts. “Jasper, I mean this with love, but do you really think it would?”

I give him a blank look, and his eyes dip significantly toward Bristlebrook, extravagant against the cliff-face. My second home. Then he tugs on my shirt. Silk. Louis Vuitton.

Ah. Right. That .

Jaykob has always had deep insecurities about money. Guilt pricks me.

Lucien lifts one shoulder. “Anyway, I told Dom, and he shut it down. But come on, Jasper. You’re a sadist... you know where not to hit.”

I barely have time to feel the sting of that before he starts grinning again. He looks over the ridiculous chair with hearts in his eyes. “Plus, he built a whole-ass throne. That’s pretty fucking cool, right?”

Mangled, dirty, overlarge beast of a thing.

But it does have a strange appeal, I’ll give it that.

I sigh, toying with the bag. Jaykob taking charge of the civilians isn’t my main concern, though I’d be lying if I said I had no reservations, both for his sake and because I still believe Dominic is best suited for the role.

I do, however, have an issue with his arrogance, and his willful dismissal of Eden’s wishes.

And, if I’m honest, my own as well.

“She’s mine—you’re going to lose,” Jaykob told us.

He is so sure she will end up firmly with him.

Only with him.

Lucien looks back at me, his hair falling like golden gossamer around his face, his eyes soft and understanding, just as they were before our scene. He does understand me, my Lucien.

“We should return to bed then,” I say, sighing ruefully.

It appears I’m not cut out for these kinds of adventures after all.

Blond brows fly up. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I didn’t say that .”

At my confusion, a slow, wicked smile creeps across his face.

“I’m just saying we don’t have to cut him off at the knees over being in charge.” He strolls over to me, then turns me by my shoulders until we’re facing Eden’s open second-story window. “But we can totally crash his party and teach our asshole friend a lesson.”

The curtains flutter again, and I frown, not following.

“I don’t understand. He’s barricaded the door. We can’t get inside.”

When Lucien doesn’t answer, I look at him, and he grins back, then tilts his head at the window.

It clicks.

“No,” I say firmly.

“Yes.”

“ No .”

He laughs. “Come on, where’s that adorable sense of adventure now?”

That makes me pause, and I take in the flush of his cheeks, all the sparkle in his eyes that I was looking for earlier. This is the mischief he wants to cause.

“I am not scaling a building to impress anyone, Lucien,” I splutter.

And he thought graffitiing a hunk of scrap metal was going too far. Love is one thing.

That could get us killed.

Lucien rolls his eyes. “It’s romantic.”

“It’s absurd . Only a pure fool entirely lacking in common sense would do something that stupid.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering why I thought any of this was a good idea. I should be sipping tea in my slippers by now, if not sound asleep in my bed.

Lucien shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know.” His smile softens, and the moonlight glows over him.“Maybe just a fool in love.”

My chest aches. Reluctantly, I look up at the window, and the curtains flutter in the wind. Is that what love is? Grand gestures and Neanderthalic aggression?

That’s never been me.

Why does no one write of a gentler kind of love? One that burns more quietly... but is just as enduring.

I think of sitting before the fireplace with Eden, the soft turn of pages and her slow blushes, and I sigh. I’m too sensible for these games. Scaling buildings and stealing princesses are for the pages in her storybooks. Not for the man who reads them with her.

Whatever tender feelings for her are sweeping me away, they’re surely not that foolish.

“No,” I finally decide. “We’ll give them their moment. This one moment. Then we’ll talk to him like gentlemen.”

Lucien’s lips twitch, and he spins the can of spray paint again. “So no grappling hooks?”

Irresponsible, wonderful little fool. He was born to love recklessly.

But imagine me, climbing a building.

I would have to be a fool in love to consider that.

Laughing softly at the absurdity, I pull him in for a hard kiss. “No, darling boy. No grappling hooks.”