Page 13

C onrad shoots me a death glare, gripping Rory by the shoulders like he can protect her from what’s coming. Alicia stands behind him, a smug smile plastered on her face.

Seeing her with him twists something dark in me. She’s barely older than Rory, and the shit between us runs deep—layers of hate built on years of bad blood.

Rory’s nieces pull at her hands, dragging her away. Conrad’s all business, his stiff suit and tie making him look like he’s suffocating in his own self-importance. He storms toward me, arms crossed.

“Hawthorne,” he bites out, barely holding it together. “You’re the last person I expected to see here. What the hell are you doing?”

“Family bonding.” I shrug. His jaw tightens.

“You’re not welcome,” he growls, voice low, shaking with barely contained anger. I step closer, towering over him. His ego must hate how small he looks next to me.

“You should ask Rory about our wedding night.” My voice drops, dark and threatening. His eyes widen, the blood draining from his face. I want him to know every fucked-up detail, want him to feel the satisfaction I get from hurting his precious daughter.

Furious, he steps closer, fists clenched at his sides. “Fuck you, Hawthorne.”

“Careful. I can make Rory’s life a lot worse than it already is. You don’t want that, do you?”

His fists tighten, jaw grinding, but he knows I’m not bluffing.

“Her time in the basement? That was just a taste. I can do much worse.”

“You son of a bitch,” he snarls. “If you hurt her?—”

“She’s mine,” I cut him off. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with her. And every bit of pain I cause her? You earned it.” His body tenses, hatred burning in his eyes, but all I see is a man who knows he’s helpless.

And I fucking enjoy it.

Conrad and Spencer storm off. The satisfaction lingers as I turn my gaze back to Rory, surrounded by the crowd. Her nieces cling to her, tugging her toward the photo backdrop, their laughter cutting through the noise.

She crouches between them, smiling for the camera. My eyes rake over her—her slim waist, the curve of her ass, the bare skin teasing beneath her top. Every memory from earlier crashes back, the way she knew exactly how to put on a show, reminding me why she’s a Siren.

She’s a master of seduction, able to make any man bend to her will, doing whatever the fuck she asks. I’ll admit; she caught me off guard. Had me hard, aching, and ready to bury myself inside her without a second thought.

But I’m not some pathetic, desperate, horny bastard that has to pay for pussy. I’m a Sovereign.

I’ll make her submit. I’ll have her, but on my terms. She won’t manipulate me with that pretty face and perfect body.

“Surprised to see you at something like this, Axe.” Alicia’s voice cuts through my thoughts. She stands beside me, hand on her hip. Her black dress clings like a second skin, her breasts pushed up, her ass barely covered. “Not really your scene, is it?”

“I could say the same to you.”

“I’ve missed you,” she purrs, trailing her fingers down my arm, tracing my tattoos. “You’re looking good, Axe. As always.” Her eyes rake over my body, her hand lingering on my chest.

“Alicia,” I growl, grabbing her wrist and squeezing hard. She winces, eyes widening. “Do not fucking touch me. Do it again, and I’ll break your arm.”

“Still the same old Axe.” She laughs, shaking her head. “You never change.” A sinister smile crosses her face. “Rory isn’t my favorite person either. Maybe we can bond over our mutual dislike.”

“Alicia, get the fuck out of here,” I snap, releasing her wrist.

“We have unfinished business.” She runs her tongue along her lips, eyes locked on mine.

“No, we don’t. Now, fuck off.”

She laughs, turning to walk away. Over her shoulder, she grins. “Just like old times.”

I fucking hate that cunt.

The foyer fills with parents and children, and the chatter and commotion are distracting. The venue is a prestigious academy, and it is clearly well-funded.

Family gatherings? I wouldn’t know. The closest I got to “family time” was bleeding out on the floor while my father lit up a cigarette, watching me crawl back to my feet so that he could knock me down again.

He was a Sovereign to the bone—an unfeeling, merciless bastard. From the moment I could walk, he had one purpose: to make me a weapon.

Emotions? Attachments? That shit was weakness, and weakness didn’t survive in his world. All I knew was pain. Every lesson came with fists and boots, the barrel of a gun shoved in my face until I could dismantle it in seconds. He taught me to kill, break bones, maim, destroy.

I fought every day to survive, not just because he demanded it, but because I had no choice. It was kill or be killed, even in my own home. By the time I hit eighteen and joined the Sovereign, I wasn’t just a soldier—I was his creation, the perfect weapon, cold-blooded and lethal.

All Hawthornes are Sovereigns. That’s the legacy.

A legacy of violence, blood, and death.

The auditorium doors open, and the crowd spills in. Spencer’s got his arm around Rory, whispering like he’s some kind of knight. I sit next to her, and he yanks his arm away.

Rory goes rigid, anger radiating off her.

I lean in, voice low. “Enjoying the show?”

She grits her teeth and huffs in annoyance.

The lights dim, and the dancers hit the stage. I throw my arm over the back of her chair, and she shifts away. I slide my fingers down her shoulder, knowing Spencer is watching this. Rory tenses, narrowing her eyes at me.

With deliberate slowness, I tangle my fingers in her hair, the strands soft against my skin, carrying the scent of lavender. I brush against the metal collar, and she shivers, letting out a sharp breath.

Leaning in, I whisper, “You looked sexy crawling for me, little siren.”

Locking eyes with me, she leans in, her lips brushing against my ear, her breath hot on my skin. “You should see what I can do with my mouth,” she purrs, sliding her hand up my thigh. Her fingers graze the inside, making me suck in a sharp breath. She pulls away, her expression shifting to one of seduction, lips curled into a sly smile.

The little bitch thinks she’s clever. But I’m not falling for her shit.

“Stop,” I snap, and her smile immediately fades.

“You seemed to be enjoying it.” Her hand slides up further, her fingers lingering close to my dick. “I can see how hard you are, Axel.”

Her fingers graze my erection, and a groan involuntarily escapes. She smirks, clearly satisfied with herself.

My blood boils, and I grab her wrist, squeezing it tight.

“If you try that again, I’ll punish you.”

She leans into my ear and moans.

“Yes, please.”

I yank her up, dragging her out of the auditorium. She fights to free herself, but my grip only tightens. Her defiance infuriates me, and she’s about to pay for it. I spot an empty corridor and slam her against the wall, pinning her wrists above her head.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snarl.

For a fleeting moment, I see genuine fear in her eyes before it’s replaced with that fucking fake seduction. “Punish me,” she moans, taunting me.

My jaw clenches. Her ability to get under my skin is almost impressive.

“Stop it. Now.”

“Axe,” she moans again. “Please. Punish me.”

My dick reacts against my will, and I curse myself for it. The way she’s playing me—trying to manipulate me—makes my blood boil. I want her. I will have her. But not like this. Not because she’s trying to control me.

I drag her to the restroom to my right, shoving her inside and slamming the door shut behind us. With no patience left, I shove her hard against the wall again.

“Stop playing games with me,” I growl.

Her defiant glare meets mine, but there’s a flicker of fear beneath the surface. I grip her throat, my fingers digging into her skin, feeling her pulse race under my touch. Her breath comes in quick, shallow gasps.

“Do you know what happens when you piss me off?” I ask, my anger barely contained. She’s trying to act brave, but the fear in her eyes betrays her.

“Yes,” she chokes out.

“Don’t fuck with me, Rory,” I warn, my grip tightening. “I’m not some weak-fuck who falls for a pretty face. You will not manipulate me.”

“Or what? Are you going to throw me in the basement again?” She laughs mockingly. “Oh no, whatever will I do?”

“Watch it.”

“Or what, Axe?” she taunts.

My patience snaps. It’s time I teach her she’s not in charge here. I’m the one in control.

“You need to learn a lesson, little siren,” I growl, tightening my grip further. “I take what I want, and I’m done with the games.” I press my body against hers, feeling her tense. Despite her efforts to hide it, I can feel her body tremble against mine.

I press my erection against her, and her breath hitches. I lift her shirt and run my fingers across her stomach, tracing her abs. Her skin is soft, and her muscles twitch under my touch.

All her defiance, the insults, the threats, her fucking attitude—it all ends now.

Her body betrays her, and I relish the sight. “I can feel your heart racing,” I taunt.

“I hate you. Let me go.”

She shoves against my chest, but I don’t budge. I will make her submit. I will make her come.

I trail my hand lower and slowly unzip her pants.

“Get the fuck off me.”

I take my time, savoring every moment. Tracing my fingers along her waistband, I slip them into her panties.

“Stop!” she yells, squirming beneath my touch. She gasps as my fingers gently trace her mound, sliding further until I find her wetness. She’s soaked.

“Your pussy says something different,” I breathe. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Go to hell! Stop, now!”

“All those games, all that fake bullshit. It doesn’t matter. Because your body knows the truth.” I circle her clit. “It knows what you want. What you need.” Her eyes close, and her breath hitches. I lean into her ear. “Say it.”

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head. She tries to close her legs, but my knee is pressed between her thighs.

“Where’s your little show, Rory?” I say, my fingers never stopping. “I thought you wanted this. That you were trying to seduce me.”

She bites her lip, trying to stifle her moan.

“Stop,” she whispers. “Please.”

I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear, my breath hot on her skin.

“Tell me, Rory, who is in control? Me. Or you?” I push my finger inside her.

“Fuck,” she cries out. Her pussy clenches as I slowly thrust my finger. She’s fighting it, trying not to give in.

“Let me go,” she pleads, her voice trembling. Her anger and resistance are weakening.

“No,” I grunt. “Not until you come for me.” My fingers continue their slow assault, teasing her, bringing her closer to the edge. She tries to push me away, but it’s half-hearted.

“Don’t do this. Please, stop.” My fingers push deeper inside her, adding another, her tightness stretching to accommodate the intrusion. Her hips buck involuntarily, and her breathing becomes erratic.

She’s on the edge, and I want her to fall over.

“Look at me, Rory,” I command.

Her eyes open. “Don’t,” she pleads.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t...please...” her voice trails off, and she moans, her head falling back.

“You’re so wet. Your pussy is begging for it. Begging for me.” She keeps her mouth shut and tightly closes her eyes. As if not watching me will erase the reality of what’s happening.

I increase my pace, thrusting harder and faster. Her juices drip down my fingers, and her scent fills the air. Her body quivers, and her breaths turn to pants.

“Tell me, little siren. Who’s in control?” I roughly shove a third finger inside her.

“Stop,” she cries out hoarsely.

“No. I’m going to make you come.”

“I won’t.”

“You will. Your body wants it. Needs it. You can’t deny it.” She tries to close her legs, her muscles straining. “The man you hate is going to make you come. And you can’t stop it.” Her eyes are wild, and her cheeks flush. “Who’s in control?” My fingers plunge deeper inside her, and she cries out.

“Fuck! Stop!” I move faster, deeper, harder.

“Say it, little siren,” I command. “Say who’s in control.”

“I can’t...I can’t...”

“Yes, you can.”

Tears stream down her cheeks, and she bites her lip, trying to suppress her cries. “No...” Continuing to fight against her orgasm, she shakes uncontrollably. “Axel,” she reluctantly moans.

Hearing my name on her lips sends a wave of satisfaction through me. I’ll have her screaming it soon enough.

Pressing my thumb against her clit, I curl my fingers.

“I’ll ask you one more fucking time. Who’s in control? Who owns you?”

“You...you...”

“You are going to come.”

“No. I can’t...”

“Come, Rory.”

Her body is mine. Her mind is mine. She’s mine.

I know the pace and pressure she needs. I’ve made her come before, and I will make her do it again.

Leaning into her, I crash my lips against hers. I touch her clit just right, and she comes undone, her body trembling as her orgasm rips through her. I swallow her cries, her moans, her pleas, devouring her.

I support her weight as she rides out the waves of pleasure. Her eyes full of confusion, fear, and anger.

“You’re a bastard,” she spits weakly. I roughly shove my finger deep, and she winces.

Leaning near her ear, I whisper, “You just came on my hand, and only three days ago, I threw you in a fucking basement. If I didn’t know better, little siren, I’d think you like it when I hurt you.”

A sinister grin spreads across my face, and she looks mortified.

“I fucking hate you.”

“You say that a lot, dirty girl.” I slowly pull my fingers out. “I’m not falling for your shit, Rory. And if you ever try to manipulate me like that again, you’ll regret it.” She looks stunned, her breathing erratic. “Good girls get fucked. Bad girls get fucked and punished.” I lick my fingers, tasting her, savoring her.

She’s speechless, and the sight brings me immense satisfaction.

“Your denial tastes delicious.” I grin.

“You’re a piece of shit, Axe.” She shoves past me and storms out of the bathroom, her heels clicking angrily against the tiled floor.