Chapter 4

Draven's POV

I watched her stand there, still shaking, with faint marks from the ropes around her wrists. Her eyes were glassy, but the anger in them had not disappeared.

That first crack in her defiance was visible, and something dark stirred inside me.

I had waited years for someone who could resist me without completely breaking under the pressure. Most people surrendered the moment they realized what they were dealing with.

Aria was different.

She still had fight in her, and I intended to make sure she understood exactly what those remaining thirty-eight days meant.

“Walk,” I told her. “We are going to the private wing. It is time you learned your way around the fortress.”

She gave me a look that could have killed a weaker man.

“What, are you giving me an official tour of your torture dungeon now? How romantic.”

“Something like that.”

I turned and started walking without waiting for another argument.

After a moment, she followed.

Her bare feet made soft sounds against the cold stone floor, still dripping from the edging I’d given her an hour ago. Every step made her thighs slick together and she hated that I could smell it.

The private wing was separated from the rest of the fortress by a heavy door that only responded to my blood magic. When I opened it, warmth immediately surrounded us.

The rooms beyond were quieter than the rest of the fortress. Everything had been designed for privacy, discipline, and training.

I stopped in the first room.

A padded bench stood against one wall. Several pieces of equipment were arranged neatly nearby, while tall mirrors covered the opposite wall.

“This is the impact room,” I explained, my voice calm. “Open hand, flogger, cane. We’ll start simple.”

Aria crossed her arms over her bare tits like that would protect her. “You’re seriously giving me a guided tour of your kinky shit? Next you’ll offer a brochure.”

I stepped in close enough that she had to tip her chin up. “Hands on the bench, ass out. Now.”

She hesitated long enough for the collar around her throat to hum.

With an irritated sigh, she finally obeyed.

“Controlling bastard,” she muttered.

I ignored the insult.

I let the first spank land open-handed across her right cheek. The sound cracked loud in the quiet room.

Pink bloomed under my palm.

“Count.”

“One,” she answered sharply.

I gave her another, left side this time.

“Two…fuck!”

By ten her ass was glowing and her voice had begun to fade. By fifteen she was panting, hips twitching forward every time my hand connected. I kept them light on purpose, enough sting to wake her nerves, not enough to break her delicate skin.

Although she still managed to throw an occasional insult my way.

“Is this supposed to scare me? I have had worse from…”

My hand landed harder. “Twenty. And no, you haven’t.”

She gasped and the words died.

I slid two fingers between her legs without warning. She was soaked, dripping onto the bench. I circled her clit once, twice, felt her push back into my hand like she couldn’t help it, then pulled away the second her breath hitched.

“Not yet,” I said. “Denied pleasure is the daily rhythm around here. You come when I decide. Not before.”

“I wasn’t going to—”

“Lie to yourself all you want. Your cunt already told the truth.”

I stepped away and led her to the next room. Silk cuffs waited on a low table along with a simple spreader bar. Aria's eyes narrowed as soon as she saw them.

“Oh, come on. Really?”

“Wrists.”

She held them out reluctantly. I locked the soft cuffs on, clipped them to a ring above her head, then nudged her ankles apart with my boot and locked the bar between them. The position left her completely open, arms stretched, legs forced wide, every inch of her on display.

She tested them once and frowned when they held.

“Comfortable?” I asked.

“Fuck you.”

A faint smile touched my mouth as I picked up the same vibrating toy from earlier. Low setting again. I pressed it against her swollen clit and watched her whole body jerk.

She bit down on a moan and turned it into a curse instead.

“Still so mouthy,” I murmured, holding the toy steady while she tried not to ride it.

“But the words get thinner every time, don’t they? Pretty soon they’ll just be sounds.”

“Dream on, Alpha.”

I edged her right there, legs spread, arms above her head, until her thighs shook and wetness streaked down to the bar. Every time she got close I backed off.

Her kept on insulting me, calling me a bastard, sadist, power-tripping asshole, but the insults came out breathier, broken by the needy little sounds she couldn’t quite swallow.

When I finally turned the toy off she was trembling again, eyes glassy with the same frustrated heat from this morning. I unlocked the bar and cuffs, catching her when her knees buckled.

“Lessons are not over,” I said. “You are going to bathe, and then you are going to eat.”

The bathing room was made entirely of dark stone. A deep tub had already been filled with warm water.

I stripped my own clothes without hesitation and stepped in first, then pulled her in after me. She stiffened when I started washing her myself with the wash cloth over her shoulders, down her arms, across her still-pink ass, between her legs with deliberate care.

She tried to snatch the cloth once.

“I can wash my own damn body.”

“Not anymore.” I kept my voice calm, clinical even while my hands mapped every inch of her. “You’re a prized possession for the next thirty-eight days. I take care of what’s mine.”

She went quiet after that, only the occasional sharp inhale when the cloth dragged over sensitive skin. Her body softened under the attention even as her jaw stayed tight. I could almost hear the argument happening behind her eyes, her mind screaming that she was only surviving, body leaning into the heat of my hands like it had been starved for exactly this.

When the water started cooling I lifted her out, dried her with the same slow precision, then sat her on the edge of the wide bed in the adjoining room. A tray sat with fruit, soft bread, and thin slices of meat.

Aria stared at the food.

Her stomach immediately betrayed her with a loud growl.

I almost smiled.

“You are hungry.”

“I have not eaten since yesterday.”

“I know.”

I picked up a piece of bread and held it toward her.

“Open.”

She glared. “I have hands.”

“And I said open.”

After a long second she did.

I fed her from my fingers, piece by piece, watching the way her tongue occasionally brushed my skin, the way her throat moved when she swallowed. Between bites I let my thumb stroke the corner of her mouth.

I poured her water and watched as she finished most of the meal without another complaint.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” she muttered once her stomach stopped growling.

“I waited a long time for a girl who fights like you,” I told her honestly. “Most break early, but you dig in. That just means you’ll fall harder when it happens.”

She looked away, but not before I caught the flicker of fear under the anger. It disappeared almost immediately, replaced by the familiar defiance, but I had seen it.

And I understood why.

Aria had been thrown into a world she did not understand. She had been forced to leave her father behind and enter a fortress filled with supernatural creatures she had only known from stories.

That night, I left her in her room with the collar still around her neck.

Before I closed the door, I looked back at her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the mark on her wrist. She believed she was only surviving the thirty-eight days.

Perhaps that was all she could think about for now.

But there was something about Aria that I could not explain.

Something about her blood.

Something about the way the contract had reacted when our hands touched. I had spent years searching for answers.

Now the answers might have walked directly into my fortress. And I intended to discover the truth before the thirty-nine days were over.