Page 22 of The Honor of Being Hers (Terms of Devotion #1)

The house was quieter than she remembered.

Not physically, there were still the low sounds of someone shifting furniture upstairs, a door closing softly in the west wing, the murmur of heating units adjusting as the afternoon light faded, but in the way it felt.

The marble floor was cool beneath her feet, solid after the uncertainty of the grove.

The air didn’t press in around her this time. It waited.

Justin had walked her up to the gate after she told him she wanted to go back home.

Then he’d kissed her cheek and told her to call if she needed to “unpack anything or anyone.” She hadn’t laughed, but the corner of her mouth had twitched.

Now she stood in the main hall, coat draped over her arm, bag still looped over one shoulder.

The leather strap had left an indent in her sweater, and she absently rubbed at the spot while taking in the familiar space that somehow felt different now.

She hadn’t sent a message ahead. If they knew she was here, it was scent or instinct. Or both.

Tyler was the first to appear.

He didn’t speak. Just stepped into the archway across from her and stopped, his tall frame filling the doorway.

His sandy brown hair was disheveled, and those gentle hazel eyes that usually radiated calm looked hollow with worry.

His typically crisp clothes were now slightly rumpled, his sleeves rolled up, and his hands clean but raw at the knuckles.

Not from anger. From over-washing, maybe.

From not knowing what else to do with himself.

She didn’t rush to fill the silence.

He crossed the space slowly. His shoes didn’t make a sound against the floor. When he stopped in front of her, it wasn’t close. It was right, far enough to let her breathe, near enough that she could step forward if she wanted.

“I know you’re angry,” he said, voice quiet. “You should be.”

She set her coat on the low table beside her and didn’t look at him right away.

“I don’t think I know what to do with it,” she said. “The anger, I mean. It’s not sharp. It’s slow.”

“Like heat.”

She looked up.

Tyler’s mouth didn’t smile, but his eyes twinkled in amusement at his joke.

“It’s not about you,” she said, not particularly sharing the joke.

“I know.”

“But part of me still thought—” She hesitated. “I wondered if I’d been a complication all along. Something to manage. A theory to prove.”

“You’re not.” His voice didn’t waver. “And I won’t defend our failure to protect your data. It was ours, too.”

Her jaw tightened. She nodded once but didn’t answer.

Ryan appeared next, his presence less a movement than a shift in gravity.

He entered from the side hall, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the strong column of his throat.

His sleeves were damp at the cuffs, water spots dotting the expensive fabric.

His dark hair was mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it, and those sharp green eyes held shadows she’d never seen before.

He looked at her like he had rehearsed what to say.

Then promptly forgot when she appeared in front of him.

“Lauren.”

Her throat tightened at the way he said it. No anger. No demand. Just her name and relief.

William stepped in from behind, silent as ever. He didn’t speak. Just leaned the shoulder of his tension-filled muscular frame into the far post and waited, the gaze of his steel-blue eyes on her face and nowhere else.

“I’m not here to be rescued,” she said. Her voice came out steadier than she’d expected, and she straightened her shoulders, feeling the weight of her decision settle into place.

“No,” Ryan said, his green eyes roving over her body thoughtfully. “You’re here to be heard.”

She stood there for a long moment, unsure how to unfold. How to let herself be in this space again.

Tyler stepped back.

Not out of rejection, just giving her room.

“I don’t want a plan yet,” she said.

“We won’t offer one,” William replied.

“I need to know that next time, if there’s a next time, it won’t be you deciding what I need.”

Ryan nodded once. “Then tell us how you want us to help you.”

She stepped forward, not into anyone’s arms, not into a hug or to proclaim some need. Just one step. Closer, and back to them.

Her scent was low but present now. It didn’t hint at fear or the instinctual arousal that came from being in their presence. It only smelled of her and the parts of their scents she had absorbed and made theirs.

She was still with them. Her heart hadn’t been broken, even if it felt a little bruised.

“I want tea,” she said. “I want silence. And then, maybe, I want to talk about justice.”

Tyler moved first. “Come sit. I’ll put the kettle on.”

She followed them into the den like she had the first night, uncertain but upright.

The familiar scent of leather and cedar wrapped around her like an embrace, mixing with the faint aroma of bergamot tea from earlier that day.

The Persian carpet beneath her feet was soft and warm, muffling their footsteps as they moved deeper into the space that had become a sanctuary.

And when she curled into the corner of the couch between William and Ryan, it was because she chose to be touched and comforted. Not because she needed to be saved.

Because she was still angry.

And still theirs.

Tyler returned with the tea service, but Lauren couldn’t seem to settle. She shifted restlessly against the leather cushions, her fingers drumming against her thigh, jaw tight with unresolved tension.

“How are you feeling?” Tyler asked gently, settling beside her with another cup in his hands.

“Fine.” The word was clipped, defensive.

Ryan’s eyebrows rose. “Fine?”

“Yes, fine. I’m handling it.” She picked up her tea, but didn’t drink. She wasn’t thirsty; having tea was just something to do.

“Talk to us,” William said, his voice carrying quiet authority. “What’s going on in your head?”

Lauren’s shoulders tensed. “I said I’m fine. I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed right now.”

“We’re not analyzing you,” Tyler said carefully. “We’re asking you to be honest with us. With yourself.”

“I am being honest.” Her voice cracked slightly on the words.

Ryan leaned forward, his green eyes intent. “No, you’re not. You’re hiding behind anger because it’s easier than admitting how much this hurt you.”

“I’m not hiding behind anything!” The words came out sharper than she intended, almost a snarl.

The three men exchanged a look, and something shifted in the room’s atmosphere.

“Lauren,” Ryan said, his voice dropping to that tone that made her Omega nature prick up its ears. “You have two choices right now. You can talk to us—really talk, not these deflections and walls you’re throwing up—or we can help you break those walls down another way."

Her throat went dry. “What do you mean?”

“You know what we mean,” William said quietly. “The contract outlined correction protocols. Sometimes when an Omega can’t access their emotions through words, they need another path.”

Tyler’s voice was gentle but implacable. “You can talk to us willingly, or you can go over our knee until those walls come down and you let us help you properly."

Lauren stared at them, her heart hammering. Neither option felt safe. Both required a vulnerability she wasn’t ready for.

“That’s not fair,” she whispered.

“Fair?” Ryan’s voice held a note of steel. “What’s not fair is watching you tear yourself apart when we can help you. Choose, Lauren. Talk to us, or accept the discipline you need to get there.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with expectation.

“I...” she started, then stopped. The words felt impossible, too big, too raw.

“Time’s up,” William said decisively. “You’ve made your choice.”

“I didn’t choose anything!”

“Yes, you did,” Tyler said, standing. "You chose not to trust us with your pain. So now we help you another way."

Something inside her crumbled—not with defeat, but with relief. They weren’t asking her to be strong anymore. They were taking that burden from her.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she admitted in a small voice.

"We know,” Ryan said, rising and moving toward her. “That’s exactly why this is what you need.”

“Tyler will start,” Ryan said, and Lauren’s eyes widened in shock.

Tyler—gentle, therapeutic Tyler—stood and moved to the center of the room with predatory grace she’d never seen from him before. Gone was the soft-spoken therapist. This was pure Alpha.

“Come here,” he said, his voice carrying an authority that made her knees weak.

“Tyler, I—”

“Now.” The single word cracked like a whip, and she found herself moving before conscious thought kicked in.

He sat on the edge of the coffee table, legs spread, and the look in his hazel eyes was unlike anything she’d ever seen from him. Hard. Uncompromising.

“Take off your jeans,” he ordered. “Panties too. Leave them around your ankles.”

“But—”

“Did I stutter?” His voice was cold and quiet. “You chose not to trust us. Now you face the consequences. Strip.”

Her hands shook as she fumbled with the button of her jeans, shocked by this side of him. The denim slid down her legs, followed by her cotton panties, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

“Over my lap. Come on now.”

As he positioned her across his thighs, she felt the solid strength of him, the controlled power she’d never fully appreciated. His therapist’s hands weren’t gentle now—they were firm, commanding, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

“You’re going to learn that hiding from us isn’t acceptable,” he said, his palm resting on her bare bottom. “We don’t coddle Omegas who can’t be honest about their feelings.”

The first spank was sharp, authoritative, nothing like the gentle touches she was used to from him. She gasped in shock.

“Count,” he ordered. “And thank me.”

“One—thank you, Tyler,” she whispered, stunned by his transformation.

“Louder. And it’s ‘Sir’ right now.”

“One! Thank you, Sir!”

Tyler’s spanks were methodical, precise, each one building on the last. His professional knowledge of the human body served him well—he knew exactly where to strike for maximum impact, how to build the heat and sting until she was squirming helplessly across his lap.

“This is what happens when you lie to your Alphas,” he said, his voice calm even as his hand painted her bottom pink. "When you hide behind anger instead of trusting us with your pain.”

By fifteen, she was crying. By twenty, she was sobbing. And by twenty-five, she felt something else stirring—a shameful heat between her legs that made her gasp with each strike.

“Feel that?” Tyler’s voice held a note of satisfaction. “Your body knows what it needs, even when your mind fights us.”

When he reached thirty, her bottom was on fire, and she was wet with arousal despite the pain, her body’s confused response making her burn with shame.

“Ryan,” Tyler said, his hand rubbing circles over her heated skin. “Your turn.”

Strong hands lifted her, and she found herself over Ryan’s lap on the couch, before she thought to protest, her tender bottom already aching from Tyler’s thorough spanking.

Ryan’s approach was different—the slaps were harder, more demanding. His spanks overlapped the tender spots Tyler had created, drawing fresh sobs from her throat.

“Are you ready to talk to us now?” he asked, pausing mid-spank.

“I—I can’t—”

His hand fell again, sharp and unforgiving. “Wrong answer.”

By the time he handed her to William, she had utterly broken down, sobbing freely as the largest Alpha bent her over the arm of the couch.

William’s discipline was military-precise, each spank calculated for maximum effect. “Last chance to be honest with us,” he said, his hand pausing.

“Please,” she gasped. “I was scared—scared that if I told you how violated I felt, how dirty, you’d see me differently—”

“There it is,” Tyler said softly, the gentle therapist returning now that she’d finally broken. “That’s our brave girl.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now let’s give you five more, to make sure this lesson sticks.” William soothed, then he delivered five more sharp spanks before his hands turned soothing, rubbing her heated skin.

They gathered her up immediately, Tyler pulling her into his arms while Ryan retrieved a blanket. She was shaking with leftover sobs, but something inside her felt cleaner than it had since reading that file.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against Tyler’s chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

“We know,” he murmured, back to his gentle self but with an edge of steel she’d never forget. “But now you know we won’t let you hide from us again.”

And she did know. All three of her Alphas would take care of her—even when it meant showing her sides of themselves she’d never seen before.