Page 10

Lyric woke to thick, warm stillness wrapped around her body, limbs heavy and sinking into the mattress.

The memory of the night before trickled in and bolted her up in bed. She felt around, finding Nidev absent then ripped the blindfold. It was dark. She gasped as she felt the spot on her chest as his sweet request came to her . “Wait till morning to look, Doo-nie… when my love notes don’t look so angry.”

It had tugged her heart. Reminded her of maybe a younger version of him, asking her to hide her eyes till he was done with her surprise. The whole night was riddled with Nidev surprises. He was like a pendulum swinging between self-control and a hunger he couldn’t contain.

When he returned her to finish his romantic torture art, he’d bound her and rendered her sightless again. She touched the tattoo on the back of her neck—the very painful one—then the one over her navel. She gasped and shot her hand between her legs, giggling. She felt like a kid discovering presents on Christmas morning.

Her pulse hammered at how painful and arousing that one had been. He’d done everything shy of giving her another orgasm, fingering and kissing her between pin stabs.

She scurried out of the bed and raced to the bathroom, turning on the light. At the mirror, a happy laugh escaped her as she stared at the two perfect little crowns with the N at the base. She turned her head, trying to see the one on her neck.

She’d need a second mirror for that one.

She popped her foot on the vanity, looking at the one on her inner thigh, her grin huge as joy sang through her. “Your soul is mine to keep, Doo-nie. To cover. To protect. To shield.”

Tears filled her eyes as she remembered all his words for every tattoo. “ Your mind belongs to me. It opens for me. It twists for me. It becomes for me. Your heart is mine. It breaks for me. It bleeds for me. It craves only me.”

She wiped her tears, a full-on sob gripping her chest. “ Your body is mine. To break. To shape. To ruin for any other.”

Oh God, he’d surely succeeded in that one.

The obsession should’ve scared her. But instead, the rush of heat spilling through her veins left her dizzy. He’d marked her as his. Claimed her.

The absence of him hit her like a weight in her chest and she hurried out to find her phone. Her bare feet padded over the hardwood leading into the kitchen where she froze in the doorway. Then smiled. A covered dish sat on the table, neatly arranged with a glass of juice and a folded note propped against it.

She hurried to it and picked up the note, her fingers almost unsteady.

My Obsession…

You may shower.

Then eat every bite.

Your King

More gasps. More tears. Huge smile.

She stroked her fingers over the pet name. His Obsession. Then she fingered his signature. Her King. Her sexy, bossy, King.

She lifted the cover over the food and her stomach growled at seeing eggs, toast and bacon. Even slices of oranges. He’d made her breakfast. And it melted her heart right out of her chest.

She spotted her backpack slumped against the wall next to the door and hurried to it. She snatched her phone from the side pocket, her pulse quickening as she unlocked the screen.

The text was already waiting. Sent two hours ago.

Nidev: Today, listen to everything you can’t hear. The sounds that aren’t there. The silence between words. The truths that hide beneath the quiet. Pay attention .

She stared at the words, her stomach twisting in excitement. Another test she wouldn’t get the answer right to. But she was beginning to think he wasn’t letting her get them right on purpose. That he liked playing her Dominus. And she was already starving for whatever lesson he had waiting for her.

With one last glance at the text, she set the phone on the table and went to the bathroom to shower. As the water pounded against her skin, her fingers kept finding every tattoo, touching and feeling him. Every time you touch them. You’re touching me.

He was everywhere already. And she never wanted that feeling to go away.

Lyric ate all her breakfast, her mind spinning on his words he’d texted as she finished the last bite of toast . Listen to everything you can’t hear. She shook her head with a grin. Classic Nidev style.

She wiped her fingers on a napkin, her gaze drifting back to her phone. She opened it to check for other texts and received one from him while looking.

Nidev:

Your classes are cancelled for today.

I need you to work with me. Come to my office.

Her stomach dropped and flipped. Work with him? Was this part of the lesson, or something else?

Since it wasn’t school, then she could change into something he might like.

She put her dishes in the sink and made the bed then dashed back to her apartment, hands shaking as she sifted through her closet. What would he want? What would make him look at her the way he always did, with that dark intensity that left her trembling?

She settled on something she hoped would strike the right balance between temptation and professionalism—a fitted, high-waisted black skirt that hugged her curves just right, a white blouse with buttons she left slightly undone, just enough to hint but not reveal. She paired it with black heels, sleek and modest but still sexy.

Her hair she pulled back into a low, smooth ponytail. Practical but alluring. The kind of look that said she was ready to serve him, in every possible way.

She realized all her tattoos were covered and slumped a little. Bummer. She really wanted to show them off.

A cloud of doubt crept up the back of her mind. Did he want them hidden? Is that why he chose those places?

She scrubbed the thought from her mind. It didn’t matter. He’d given the marks to her. He’d meant them. She was the only one that needed to see them.

****

The walk to Nidev’s office was a blur. She’d been in the Creole King administrative building before, but never on his summons. The receptionist didn’t even glance at her, too busy with her own tasks to care who walked past. Which was good. Because the idea of anyone knowing she was there for him… well, that both thrilled and terrified her.

She pushed open the heavy door to his office and stepped inside.

He was there, already working. Papers spread out on his desk, a laptop open, his gaze pinned to the screen.

Without looking up, he spoke. “How was your breakfast? Please sit.”

“It was amazing, thank you,” she said, matching his professional tone and hiding her giddy smile.

“Your job today is simple. You’ll accompany me in meetings. You will take notes. You will follow every instruction I give you without hesitation. Understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Nidev,” she said evenly, eager to show him she could do any job he asked her to.

He shut his laptop and stood, pinning her with his gaze. “Let’s go.”

****

The drive to the academy’s administration building was unnervingly silent. Nidev’s focus was locked on his phone, fingers flying over the screen as he typed message after message.

Lyric sat at the opposite end of the backseat, rigid, a provided notepad balanced on her knees, her pen already poised for whatever task he threw her way.

“Today’s training is about observation,” he said finally, eyes not leaving the phone. “You will sit. Listen. And not speak unless spoken to.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Nidev.”

No approval, no acknowledgement. Obedience was expected, not praised.

That was normal in a job. Which this was.

Maybe he was going to let her work for him every day if she proved herself capable. The idea of playing his secretary was as arousing as playing his student. God, she would technically play both if he was going to also be her teacher.

They reached the building faster than she was ready for, and Nidev hurried inside without waiting to see if she followed. She half ran to keep up, heels clicking against the polished floor as they approached the conference room.

Inside, she recognized Mrs. Mireille seated at the table, her presence striking against the modern simplicity of the room. Her dark, polished hair was swept back from high cheekbones, green eyes sharp and assessing as she rose to greet them.

Lyric struggled not to think about how frumpy her attire was in comparison, waiting for Nidev to sit so she would know where to put herself.

“Nidev,” the woman greeted warmly, her voice smooth and self-assured. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mireille,” he greeted with a nod, his tone polite, even pleasant. “I appreciate you making time for this.”

“Of course.” Her smile was genuine, her gaze lingering on him in a way Lyric couldn’t help but notice. “I know how important this operation is. I’ve already started rearranging accommodations, but the numbers you’re expecting...”

“Will be substantial,” Nidev acknowledged, sitting in the chair exactly next to hers.

Lyric realized no further introductions would be happening and took the second chair behind him, giving them plenty of space.

“Which is why your help is critical. You’ve always handled logistics better than anyone else.”

Lyric wrote that down, wanting to at least look busy. The compliment was delivered so smoothly, so genuinely, that she couldn’t help being impressed. And surprised. She’d never been around him outside of school where he was with the other Kings who shared the same hard-ass personality twenty-four seven.

Mrs. Mireille’s eyes brightened. “Thank you. I try. But even with all our resources, this is going to be a challenge. Rooms can be prepared, but what about training? Supplies? You know I’ll do everything I can, but...”

“I understand.” Nidev’s tone softened, the edge of his usual commanding voice easing into something almost friendly. “If you need additional support, I’ll make sure you get it. Whatever it takes to make this work.”

Lyric jotted down parts of their sentences that seemed note-worthy while remembering her own assignment. Listening. But all she could hear was him, his voice, his everything. And now her, her voice, her everything.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Mireille replied, her smile deepening. “If you can sign off on the requisition requests, I’ll make sure things are set up before the first wave of students arrive.”

“I’ll handle the approvals personally.”

Their conversation continued, all smooth efficiency and mutual respect. Soon, there was nothing left in a business capacity to write. Unless he wanted notes about Mrs. Mireille’s voice being rich with admiration, and Nidev seeming to welcome it. He didn’t shut her down, he didn’t dismiss her. He treated her like a trusted ally, definitely not how he treated all the students.

She decided to write it, not wanting to be caught slacking on the job. Maybe he’d test her later about it. Maybe he wanted her to observe those things too.

“I’ve also been considering something else,” Mrs. Mireille said, her tone shifting.

Lyric flipped her page, hoping for something useful to write.

“If you’d like, I can also assist in training the new recruits. Especially the younger ones. The ones who may need more... guidance.”

Lyric picked up a weird stress on the word guidance. She underlined the word and added a question mark next to it.

“That would be appreciated,” Nidev replied. “I’ll have the details sent to you by the end of the day.”

Send details by the end of the day . she wrote.

She laughed softly. “You never leave anything unfinished, do you?”

Lyric’s pen paused at her tone. She listened. That’s what he’d asked her to do.

“I try not to,” he said, shifting in his seat, his gaze flicking over her then returning to Mrs. Mireille. “Thank you for your help, Mireille. Truly.”

“Absolutely anytime, Nidev.”

Okay, that was so fucking obviously flirty. She had the hots for him, no doubt about it. Like every other female at the frikn school.

Their conversation had already gone on too long, and Lyric’s hand was beginning to cramp from her mindless scribbling. She’d need to clean up these notes before he saw them. Definitely not streamlined. She began circling the relevant information. Logistics. Supplies. Training accommodations.

Mrs. Mireille glanced at her phone, then back at Nidev, indicating a possible light at the end of the torturous tunnel. “You know, we’ve been at this for over an hour. How about we continue this over brunch? It’s not often we get to speak without some crisis demanding our attention.”

Brunch? God, please say no.

“That sounds reasonable. You’ve surely earned a break.”

“Better yet, how about some of that tea you swear by? My apartment isn’t far from here as you know.”

Lyric’s stomach twisted, waiting for his answer.

“Sure. I’ll drive us.”

Her entire stomach dropped out as they both stood and headed for the door, leaving her to scramble with her things.

At the exit, a hot knife hit her chest when he rested his hand on her lower back, guiding her out as her laughter trailed and Lyric saw red.

She realized neither of them had given her barely a glance, like she wasn’t even an afterthought. She swallowed as she hurried to follow, her heels suddenly feeling like lead.

The short ride to her apartment was crippling. He put the bitch in between them in the backseat and Lyric couldn’t stop measuring how close her knees were to his legs as her silky words flowed on and on.

Nidev’s behavior was one shock after another, leaving her wondering who he was. Why was he acting this way? Was there something she didn’t know about this job that required him to let this woman openly seduce him with her… sickening kindness?

The half mile hell ride to her apartment finally ended. Her apartment that he already knew where it was—an odd fucking thing for her to say, now that she thought about it. Why voice facts they both knew?

Did she somehow know about her relationship with Nidev? Was she jealous?

She sure acted like a woman who had more than a professional relationship with him or at least fantasized about it. Like the rest of the school.

A terrifying thought slammed into her. Had they shared something more than a professional relationship at some point?

The idea added a violent cramp to her already sick stomach.

****

In the woman’s second floor apartment, Lyric kept ten feet between her and the exit while Nidev’s gaze slid over the room, pausing briefly on the plush leather couch, the open door leading to the small kitchen. “Still keeping this place running like a well-oiled machine, I see,” he said, his voice almost approving. “Or have you finally hired someone to keep the chaos under control?”

The woman laughed, rich and throaty. “If you’re asking whether I’ve found some poor soul willing to clean up after me, the answer is still no. I prefer to handle things myself.”

“Perfectionist,” Nidev said, and there was something almost amused in his tone.

Lyric opened her notebook and began underlining random things and rewriting others.

“Says the man who made me rewrite the student accommodation plan three times before it was ‘satisfactory.’”

Lyric’s fingers clenched around the pen, their easy banter and shared history eating a hole through her.

“Well,” Mireille continued from in the kitchen. “You know how it is. Excellence requires dedication. And you always did expect the best from me.”

“I still do.” His words were smooth, even familiar. He’d said them to Lyric many times. Minus the warmth.

“Why don’t we sit?” Mireille gestured toward the dark green couch. “I’ll make your favorite tea.”

Nidev sat on the couch and Lyric perched on the very edge of the chair closer to the door, eyes on her notebook, diligently rewriting her mess.

“I thought you hated the smell of it,” Nidev called.

“I do. But I kept some anyway.” Mireille’s voice was sharp, a challenge wrapped in sweetness.

It was some inside joke. A conversation that had nothing to do with orders or lessons or brutal tests meant to break her down.

“Of course, I doubt you sleep much these days,” Mireille said, entering with a cup and handing it to him. “Would you like some, sweetie?”

Lyric's insides scattered as she cleared her throat with a, “No thank you.”

“Well if you want anything, just ask,” she said, diving right back into Nidev’s air space, leaving no time to thank her.

Lyric couldn’t help but watch her, needing to know every detail of the truth while never wanting to learn it. “You’re always running. Teaching. Training. Not to mention...” Her eyes slid to Lyric with a slow, assessing look. “Handling whatever project this one is meant to be.”

Lyric’s jaw tightened and she lowered her gaze back to her pretend notes.

“She’s just here for the day. My usual help was sick.”

Panic rose in her body and she fought it back. So she wasn’t being trained to work with him, she was just standing in.

“I never know with you,” she said lightly, sitting next to him. “You’ve always been good at finding... untapped potential. Like when you had me adjusting the swimming facilities so you could test their stamina properly. If I recall, you were never satisfied until the pool was cold enough to ‘encourage perseverance.’”

The memory seemed to amuse him. “I remember. Some couldn’t last more than a few minutes.”

“Not her though, I assume?” Mireille’s words were aimed at her, but Lyric refused to look. “I hear you’ve been running the recruits ragged at the gym lately. And yet she looks... intact.”

“She Lore’s student.”

“Oh,” she said, barely impressed. “How is our lovely King Lore,” she wondered.

“He’s well.”

So that’s how you sound when you lie, Lyric wrote. Noted.

“What was your motto?” she muttered. “Training is only effective if you push beyond what’s comfortable?”

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did. I kept good notes. And our little darling here is stuck keeping your notes.”

“Only for a day.”

The woman laughed once. “A day with you is like a thousand. I should know. But that’s why you get results, isn’t it?”

“It’s why this place functions,” Nidev corrected. “And why you’re the best at what you do.”

That bit of praise clearly pleased her while making Lyric physically ill. She needed to leave, she needed a reason, one that didn’t seem childish or telling.

Lyric’s eyes stole a glance as she crossed one leg over the other with fluid grace. “Tell me how I can help you this time. I miss working with you,” she lamented.

“I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Lyric’s pen trembled over the notepad, fighting just to hold herself together while waiting. Waiting for an order, a demand to prove herself. That’s how it worked. She fought, she failed, she fought again. Every inch of approval had to be earned with him.

Mireille’s laughter came smooth, genuine. “Push until they break, then see if they can put themselves back together.”

“That’s how they learn,” Nidev said, his tone calm and controlled.

Lyric’s pulse stuttered getting louder in her ears.

“But it must be exhausting, Dev. Training them like that.”

Dev...

“It’s my job,” he said simply. “It’s not that complicated.”

“You make it sound so clinical,” she teased. “But we both know you enjoy the process.”

Enjoy the process.

The laughter went on like white noise as her pulse got louder in her ears. While he sipped tea with another woman. Switched off his cold, obsessive focus and replaced it with something she’d never seen.

The conversation weaved in and out of her mind.

“I had to be, working with you.” Mireille cried. “You were never satisfied with anything less than perfection. And I have the stress wrinkles to prove it.”

The laugh that slipped from him wasn’t quite a chuckle, but it was closer to warmth than anything Lyric had ever heard from him.

You’re the only human on this planet I would make such a pathetic sound for.

“That’s because you were the only one worth expecting it from.”

The words hit Lyric’s chest like a punch. Her breathing grew shallow, her lungs tightened as if a steel band were wrapping around them.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” Nidev said, making her realize they were talking about her again. His tone was cool. Detached.

“Well,” Mireille continued, “If you ever need another hand with training the recruits, you know where to find me. You always have.”

“Noted.”

Lyric’s hands were trembling around her notepad.

Her mentor. Her guide. Her tormentor. Giving this part of himself to someone else that wasn’t her.

Mireille’s laughter was light, easy. “You really have become even more ruthless over the years, haven’t you?”

“I do what’s necessary,” Nidev replied.

“Efficiency above all else.”

“That’s the idea.”

Lyrics heart crashed against her ribs as the conversation flowed between them like a familiar dance.

A dance of betrayal. Right in front of her. Forced to watch. To take notes. Was this the assignment? To test her? To push her? To break her?

Unbearable heat pooled in her chest until it felt like her own skin was on fire.

“You know better than anyone that I don’t make promises lightly,” he said as Lyric’s vision blurred.

“Exactly.” Mireille’s tone softened. “And if you ever need anything, anything at all... you know where to find me.”

Lyric’s breath hitched as her throat closed up and something tore through her. Hot. Unrelenting. Impossible to contain. She stood as it burst out in a furious half yell, slamming into the room, hitting the walls and everybody in its path. Pictures crashed to the floor, glass shattered, and Lyric stared in horror at the blood gushing from the woman’s nose.

“I…I’m sorry,” she gasped, shaking and moving in reverse, clutching the notepad to her chest. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean it.”

Nidev’s gaze snapped up from the woman and landed on Lyric with something caught between shock and fury. “Don’t move,” he ordered her, hurrying to the kitchen and returning with something for her nose while the look in his eyes burned in Lyric’s mind still. Something unforgiving, like she’d crossed a line she could never uncross.

Her breath came in shallow, ragged gulps as panic flooded her veins. “Excuse me,” she choked out, her voice nothing but a broken whisper as she turned and ran out, clamoring blindly through the narrow hallway toward the second exit.

The swamp’s frigid air slammed into her as she stumbled down the stairs, her pulse roaring in her ears. Every nerve felt like it was on fire.

She didn’t know where she was going. Didn’t care. All she knew was that she had to get away before the shame and devastating heart ache swallowed her whole.

Nidev appeared out of nowhere, his hand on the back of her neck with a deliberate pressure, grounding her, even as her thoughts fought to spiral as her body fought to shrink away from him.

Oh God, she’d lost control. She'd lost control of her power.

He didn’t say a word as he guided her to the stairs then paused before it. “Wait here,” he ordered.

Even if she wanted to fight him or run, she couldn’t. She had no more bones, no more breath, no more reason. She clung to the railing, her knuckles white, her gaze locked on the uneven cement beneath her feet. Her stomach twisted as she tried to calm her breathing, her pulse still crashing against her ribs like a wild, herd of horses.

Nidev finally returned, but this time he didn’t help her walk. He lifted her in his arms and carried her.

After he set her in the car, he climbed in and knocked on the window. “My apartment,” he ordered his Verthur.

She clung to the window as far from him as possible, tears streaming. Waiting for him to scold her. To ream into her. But she got nothing. Nothing. And for some reason, that hurt worse.

****

“Shower,” Nidev ordered when they arrived at his apartment, his voice cutting through the heavy quiet. His body ached with a hunger so fierce it was maddening, but he refused himself even a drop of what he craved. That was his punishment. For his stupidity. For his own weakness with her. For his miscalculations.

She’d done more than lose control. She’d made a declaration that rattled him like nothing he’d ever experienced. Something too powerful for words.

His lesson had been for her to listen to those things hiding in the silence. The truths that weren’t spoken but bled from the soul. Even with every mark he’d put on her, she still didn’t hear what he screamed to her in the void.

Guilt. Shame. Judgment. That’s all she heard. And these things didn’t scream to her from the void, they whispered. Until its voice became static between the truth. Always speaking without words. Accusing without evidence. Judging without justice.

But Nidev knew what she needed and the agony of that knowing burned in his blood.

With a lie she’d been bound. With pain she’d be found.

By the time she emerged, her body appeared raw and trembling, hair damp and clinging to her neck. Head hanging, waiting for the judgment coming for her.

“Come here.” He stripped the order of anything that could be mistaken for comfort.

She stepped toward him, her breathing shallow and unsteady, her gaze fixed on the floor.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I’m going to ask you a question, Doo-nie,” he said, keeping his tone low and without mercy. “And you’re going to answer me with the truth.”

Her gaze glistened with tears as she gave a tiny nod.

He locked his brutal precision in place with an unwavering stare on her then turned and sat on the sofa, his sick cock finding a million reasons to be raging for her.

“Over my lap,” he ordered quietly.

Her breath stuttered, but she obeyed, her body folding over him. She trembled as she put her face in the leather couch and he allowed himself one caress over her bare skin, the only and last show of comfort before he began.

The first spank was sharp, controlled.

She gasped, clenching her fingers into fists. The arch of her back and trembles in her breath brought his sick desires roaring to life.

“Tell me why you lost control,” he ordered, making blades of his words and pressing them against her.

“Because I— I was jealous,” she forced out on a whisper.

“ Not the answer I’m looking for.”

The next strike landed harder, her body jolting with the force of it. Her breath caught, a moan slipping past her lips.

“Try again.”

“Because I... I couldn’t stand how you looked at her. Like she mattered,” she wrenched from her heaving chest.

“Closer.” Another spank, this one accompanied by his fingers smoothing over her stinging flesh, his voice lowering to a lethal murmur. “But still not enough.”

Her whimper tore through the air. Her body quivered against him, her thighs squeezing together involuntarily.

“Speak the truth, Lyric.”

“Because...” she gasped, her breaths jagged. “Because she touched you and it... it made me sick.”

Fuck.

“Still not enough.” His palm landed on her ass like a crack through the room and a sob caught in her throat.

“Why did you lose control,” he ordered, his voice like steel.

A single sob escaped her then she held her breath, angling her face toward him. “Because I... I want you for myself...”

His next spank brought her shriek.

“Still not enough!”

“Because I want you to be mine!” she wailed out.

“Not enough!” he said, with another hard spank that tore several cries from her.

“Because I need you to love me and only me !”

His chest ached with that beautiful unspoken truth, his head shaking. “That’s not why,” he swore. He landed another without mercy.

She belted out a scream, this one full of her power and it rocked every cell in his body, turning his hungers feral.

“Don’t fucking scream, Lyric, tell me the TRUTH!”

“I am telling you the truth!”

Another wallop, another screech. “THE TRUTH IN THE FUCKING SILENCE!” he yelled. “TELL ME!”

“I CAN'T SHARE YOU!”

Another wallop. “WHY! WHY CAN’T YOU SHARE ME!”

A screaming wail ripped out of her and she spun on his lap, face twisted in agony and fury. “BECAUSE YOU’RE MINE! YOU’RE FUCKING MINE !”

His lungs collapsed as he pulled her into his arms and embraced her tightly, chest heaving. “Fuck, baby,” he gushed. “That’s it,” he swore, closing his eyes and stroking her everywhere. “Because I’m all yours.” He held her face and kissed every inch while she gave into her sobs, letting them pour out. “I'm all yours and you’re all fucking mine. That’s what screams in the silence. That’s what owns the void.”