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TWELVE

BANE

“Yes,” she whispers, big Bambi eyes blinking up in a way that has me wanting to toss her up against the wall right now and reach under the flimsy skirt of her dress to thumb her cunt and see if my offer has her wet already.

She’s not as vulnerable as last night, and after a good night’s sleep, I know she’s sober. She’s admitted she’s a sex addict, so she’d probably be game. I could get verbal consent and be balls-deep in the cunt I’ve been obsessing about in less than sixty seconds.

Do it. Take what’s yours.

“Good,” I snap, the word overly crisp. “We begin today.”

I turn away from the coffee table of fallen dominos. “Training starts with breakfast.”

I ignore her huff of protest, heading towards the kitchen because if I’m going to model discipline, I better start exerting some right fucking now over my own beast.

This is no spur-of-the-moment decision.

I stayed awake all night, turning it over in my mind. At two a.m., I got out the dominos. The precision and control calmed my thoughts and helped me think. Again and again, I dissected every angle, every possibility, and every risk. And every single time, I arrived at the same conclusion.

First, I have to bring us both under control.

And second— she must be mine .

I covet her with a lordly possessiveness that should unnerve me.

But fear is where I faltered before. Fear of myself. Fear of my past. Fear of my own dark, snarling desires.

I do not have to be afraid of my hunger, just as I will teach her she does not have to be afraid of hers.

In discipline, we will both be free. We can tame our animals.

It’s true that my father taught me to just take whatever I wanted. To be the conqueror. To let nothing stand in my way. I’ve spent years rejecting his lessons, refusing to be that kind of man anymore. But denying my nature doesn’t erase it. The drive to dominate and possess never left.

Maybe it’s not wrong to give in to obsession as long as the object of my obsession wants to be devoured.

How is a dominant that much different from a shepherd? Both guide, watch, and protect their flock. I ensure the well-being of the ones entrusted to my care as a priest. And Moira… she is in need of care, whether she knows it or not.

I will take care of her. And indulge my cravings at the same time.

But only if this hunger is shared.

I glance over my shoulder at her as I cook.

She sits cross-legged on the chair at the table, scrolling on her phone absentmindedly while she watches me from her peripheral. The sight of her here, in my house, twists something dark inside me.

I saw the hunger in her eyes that night at the club. Felt it in the shudder of her body.

Even now, she bites her bottom lip. She wants this, too. She may not understand it yet, but she will. Because I will make her crave like she has never craved before.

I plate her breakfast—a simple omelet and fruit, nothing too heavy. She looks like she barely eats. We’ll work on that.

I set the plate down in front of her. “You’re quiet this morning.”

She looks up, startled. “Oh—I—” She hesitates, eyes flickering with something like guilt. “Is that bad?”

I shake my head. “There is no bad or good here.”

“What are you, like, Yoda?” She smirks.

I arch a brow. “Well, I’m a little taller.”

She actually laughs, and it’s a sound I want . I want to hoard it and pull it from her again and again until it’s mine.

I turn back to retrieve my own plate, then settle in across from her. She pokes at her food with a fork but doesn’t eat.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

She doesn’t hesitate. “Sex.”

My hand stills over my coffee. She flicks her gaze up to mine, then back down to her plate as if she regrets the admission. “But I’m usually thinking about sex.”

I hum in approval. “Interesting. Thank you for your honesty.” I tilt my head, assessing. “You should know I value honesty above everything else. If we embark on this together, you must never lie to me. Do you promise?”

Her gaze sharpens. “If I promise, how do you know I’m not lying?”

I smile, slow and dark. “I’ll find out. And then this—between us—will end forever.”

She leans back, considering. “Lying is that much of a dealbreaker to you?”

“Yes.”

“What about cheating? Because I already told you I’m a sex addict.”

“Do you usually cheat?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t have significant others.”

That surprises me. “Never?”

“Maybe when I was a teenager, for like, a minute.”

“Did you cheat on them?”

“They cheated on me.”

Each minor revelation is a pearl I tuck away, a puzzle piece I will assemble until I have the full picture of her laid bare.

“What do you think about when you’re not thinking about sex?” I ask.

She smirks. “I’m always thinking about sex.”

I doubt that’s true, but I let it lie. “So, you can’t promise me that you won’t cheat, but I need you to promise me that you won’t lie.”

She studies me, and I like that she’s taking this seriously. I like everything about this subdued, thoughtful version of her. Interesting that she’s not always manic energy and chaos. She has quiet depths, too. Even more interesting is that she’s already willing to show me this new side of her.

“Okay,” she whispers. “I won’t lie to you.”

She doesn’t meet my eyes as she says it. But I still believe her. I’ve had plenty of people look me in the eye as they swore they were telling the truth, only to stab me in the back later.

“Good. What are your hard limits?”

“No scat play,” she says immediately, wrinkling her nose. “And no fluid exchange.”

I nod. “That’s reasonable. Although, eventually, I would like to exchange fluids.”

She looks hesitant. “Full disclosure, I have HSV-1. It’s one of the types of herpes.”

“I know. One that fifty to eighty percent of the population has. I have it, too.”

Her eyes widen, seeming surprised by my calm answer. “Doctors don’t usually test for it. And most people freak out when I mention the H word.”

“That’s ignorance. It’s commonly acquired in childhood through shared towels or water bottles. And you didn’t answer my question. Do you have any more hard limits? It’s important that we agree on these before we begin.”

“What are your hard limits?” She arches her petite eyebrow.

I smirk. “You won’t get near them. And you’ll be the one following the rules, not setting them.”

She flops back dramatically. “Jesus! Usually, I have to fight for my safety-first spiel. Now you’re grilling me because I don’t have more limits?”

“We’ll circle back. What’s your safe word?”

She arches an eyebrow at me. “Domino.”

My cock stiffens. “When were you last tested?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Did you use a condom?”

She scowls. “Of course. I told you—no fluids. I’m a safety girl.”

“Are you amenable to fluid exchange if we’re both tested?”

She blinks, looking shy for the first time since I’ve met her. “I’ve never done that.”

“Gone with someone to get tested or been taken bare?”

Her lips part. I see the shift in her breathing. “Either. Both.”

I feel the change in the air between us.

Heat licks down my spine. I will be the first. I will be the only .

“Are you amenable to doing so?”

She smiles crookedly, then repeats with a terrible mock British accent, “I am amenable.”

My cock goes fully hard, and I want to pull her over my lap and finger her until she squeals. No one ever dares to take the piss with me.

I want her to do it again. And again, and again.

“Eat,” I command, voice rough.

She rolls her eyes but obeys, stabbing at her food. My cock twitches. No one ever dares roll their eyes at me, either.

I’m obsessed with watching the way she eats, slow and careful, like she’s testing the boundaries of this strange new world we’re building.

She swallows, then tilts her head. “So, are you ever going to explain how you’re a priest and a dom?”

I take a sip of coffee, then smirk. “I wasn’t always a priest.”

She leans in. “That’s all you’re gonna give me? No more explanation about how you go back and forth from playing, ‘ yes, Daddy, ’” she moans breathily, then puts her hands together, “to ‘forgive me, Father’?”

Her eyes glint with mischief. Brat .

I chuckle, low and dark. She has no idea what she’s just unleashed.

I push my plate aside and stand. Her eyes widen.

“What now?” she asks, cautious but intrigued.

I beckon her down the hall. She follows.

I stop in the bathroom and retrieve a fresh toothbrush, handing it to her.

“Toiletries?” She stares. “That’s what’s next?”

I put toothpaste on both hers and mine. “If you stay here, you’ll need one.”

I meet her gaze in the mirror as we brush our teeth.

The moment feels strangely intimate. Too much. Just enough.

And fuck?—

I want her.

So take her. Press her up against the door, wrists clasped on either side of her head. Helpless.

Make her mad with craving.

Don’t stop until she’s screaming your name and calling you her god .

The vein bulges in my neck as Moira finishes with her teeth and wipes that sultry mouth, big eyes meeting mine in the mirror. Her wintry fresh mouth would feel so good gulping down my cock. Gagging on my balls.

I lean over the sink and spit. I want her on her knees, want to spit into her mouth and for her to accept it like it’s God’s gift.

Instead, I white knuckle the counter.

She’s grinning at me, and when she hands me the towel she just wiped with, she intentionally brushes her fingers against mine. Goading me.

I snap back to attention. Yes, the brush of her skin lit me on fire, but it reminded me why I’m doing this.

I have to be the control for both of us. She’s unruly and must be brought to heel. For both our sakes.

“Go wait in my bedroom. It’s across the hall from the bathroom. We’ll discuss the rules. Your training begins now. ”