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That’s right. He’d mentioned he was coming that night. She struggled to maintain her train of thought while her body remembered what else was coming that night. All night.

“Your arousal is the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever experienced,” he said, the soft confession licking along her skin. “And I no longer care that it’s forced.”

The violation twisted inside her, wrong in several ways. “What if… not all of it is forced.”

Her gaze caught on his perfect mouth spreading in a seductive smile. “That wouldn’t be much of a punishment.”

She considered it from that angle, now wondering exactly how he felt about all of it. His forced part included. “Unless… you… maybe liked performing the punishment.”

His mouth covered hers as he breathed her name with his aching “Mmmm,” that demanded she return the glorious pleasure back to him. “I do like it,” he swore against her lips, missing her meaning.

“How do you know… that’s not forced too?”

He angled his head as if spotting something in her gaze. “What if it is?”

She realized there were too many meanings to answer that question but wasn’t ready to clarify, not out loud. “I don’t like that I forced anything on you.”

****

The mall’s fluorescent glare stung Reuban’s eyes, a sterile cage of glass and tile that hummed like a dying star.

Late hour, nearly closing, and the place felt hollow—scuffed floors swallowing his steps, the faint whiff of stale pretzels clogging his nose.

His empath senses twitched, catching flickers of life.

A janitor’s mop sloshed in lazy arcs, its rhythm a dull pulse…

two teens shuffled past, hoods up, their giggles sharp against the quiet.

A woman in a red coat hustled toward the exit, bags thudding like heartbeats.

Reuban allowed the click of his black oxfords to ground him as the Sinner’s Bond burned low in his veins from the SUV’s inferno.

He’d ordered Larena to stay close and she obeyed him in inches, maintaining a distance he could span with a flick of his wrist. The submission was expected but the arousal it brought him required its own discipline.

Every dark corner presented itself as the perfect confessional where he punished her for every clever misdeed his cock could construe as sin.

He was beginning to realize the Sinner’s Bond didn’t exist to merely punish her for moral crimes but also came with erotic reparations for the victim—him. And his ever-hungry cock.

He stepped into a department store and headed for the racks sprawled out like a battlefield. In the men’s department, his fingers grazed a black leather jacket. Kross filled his mind as he lifted it. “For our soon to be Big King,” he said smoothly, eyeing Larena. “Substantial and befitting a King.”

Larena gave a light snort, leaning against a clearance bin, her boot tapping a jagged rhythm. “Perfect for a spark in a powder keg,” she said, green eyes slicing the jacket like a threat. “Leather’ll make him bolder.”

She said it like he itched to crack the heavens. But her words were laced with ghosts of Nephilim she’d fought, so he let it slide.

He handed her the jacket, and she took it then snatched a gray hoodie from a rack and tossed it at him. “Something plain. To remind him he’s also human, not just your shiny new King.”

Reuban caught it, fingers sinking into the fabric, a smile tugging his lips. “My astute little mother,” he murmured, slicing his gaze at her, wanting to suddenly nurse from her breasts. He draped the hoodie over his shoulder as her pulse spiked in his senses.

She tossed him black cargo pants next. Reuban eyed the rugged build then checked the size. “Find me this with a thirty-four waist and same length.”

She moved with that angelic proficiency, whacking through the selection. “Human or not, he’s got eyes like hers, but… sharper,” she murmured. “Like he’s seen too much.” Her words softened, a confession slipping through her barbs.

Reuban caught the cargos she tossed at him and added them over his shoulder.

“Eyes like hers, yes,” he said, moving to a shirt rack.

“…carrying love, not ruin.” He added a black ribbed sweater to his pile then made his way to a display of boots.

He lifted a pair, testing their heft. Perfect.

He found a size thirteen and tucked them under his other arm, crossing the aisle into the men’s undergarments.

“Sir, would you like a basket?”

“Yes, please,” Larena answered the female clerk before coming to stand next to him.

“Nice to have a buffer between me and the women.”

She gave a tiny huff and eye role. “You likely have a long list of women at your beck and call.”

Reuban’s cock jerked at the hint of her jealous fishing while she absentmindedly stroked her hand over a pair of black underwear. “I assume you’re molesting those underwear because you’d like to see me in them?”

She snatched her hand off and he grinned as she shot out to intercept the clerk heading their way with a basket. Stopping her before she could get too close or running from his all-knowing eyes. Both, he was sure.

He tossed in five pairs of the black underwear, getting her curious look.

“For the rest of the Kings,” he explained.

“Just remembered we’re meeting with the Archangel.

Think I’ll get us all fresh clothes.” The second he said it, he had the dire need to dress her too.

After backtracking and adding outfits for all of them into the basket, he made his way to the women’s side of the store.

“What are you doing?” she wondered, sounding panicked.

“Josie will need clothes—which you can pick. While I find yours.”

“Mine,” she gasped quietly, already busy at the rack of dresses for Josie.

“I want to dress you, and you have nothing to say about it other than thank you,” he said, grinning at catching her hot, two-second glare. “Get used to it, angel. You’re stuck with me.”

She passed him and he grunted from the flash-grip she gave his cock as she did.

He stood there, rigid and boiling for several seconds.

He scanned the store before turning and cornering her.

With one hand, he gripped her entire jaw while cradling the back of her shorn head, stabbing his tongue into her gasping mouth, his lust coming in growling breaths.

“That was bold, Larena,” he said, finding the top of her skirt and sliding his hand in. Her fingers locked on his cock, blasting heat through him as he shoved her panties out of his way. He slid two fingers over her, groaning. “My angel is dripping?”

Her hands clasped his neck as she kissed him back in answer.

He stuffed two fingers inside her and devoured her soft cry, moving his thumb knuckle against her clit.

“You’re fucking my hand, naughty angel? Is that all you can think about?”

“Yes,” she gasped right in his mouth. “I can’t stop needing you.”

He turned with her, hiding her better as he filled the quiet corner with the sound of her drenched pussy getting hammer-fucked till she came.

As soon as she was done, he grabbed her jaw with the hand he’d just fucked her with, sliding her juices along her cheek while he kissed her, a filthy groan wrecking his breaths.

“That’s going at the top of your punishment list, young lady,” he promised, winded as he shoved his fingers in his mouth with a painful moan of ecstasy.

“Fuck, I love the taste of your pussy,” he swore, nodding to the clerk passing the aisle they’d just desecrated.

“Let’s finish this bullshit,” he muttered, ghosting her swollen lips with his before heading to that emerald dress he’d spotted a few steps back.