9. Eight

Dinner went better than I’d expected.

Eli had eaten every bite of the spaghetti I made—more than I thought he would, given how fragile he'd looked when I first brought him home. His appetite surprised me. With each forkful, the tension in Eli's shoulders softened, and I found a quiet satisfaction in watching him relax—even if only over a simple meal. For the first time, he didn’t seem so distant, the silence between us settling into something almost comfortable.

As soon as the plates were empty, Eli rose to gather them, along with all the other dishes from the table.

“You don't have to do that, Eli,” I said, my voice gentle but firm. “You're a guest here.”

Eli glanced up at me, platinum hair falling across one eye. “Please,” he said softly. “Let me.” I recognized the need in his voice—it was the familiar, unspoken plea of someone who needed to feel useful, to prove their worth.

I studied him for a long moment, taking in the determined set of his jaw, the hopeful gleam in his eyes. Slowly, I inclined my head. “Very well. I appreciate your help.”

Relief washed over Eli's face and he ducked his head, gathering up the rest of the dishes.

I left Eli to his task and retreated to my study, Gavin following close behind. As soon as the door closed, I let out a heavy sigh, sinking into the leather armchair behind my desk. Gavin took his usual place standing at my right hand, his posture perfect, hands clasped behind his back.

“He's a natural submissive,” Gavin remarked, his tone clinical and detached. “The way he jumped to serve you, the relief on his face when you allowed it. He craves direction, structure, purpose.”

I nodded slowly, steepling my fingers beneath my chin. “But he's been through a lot.”

I thought back to Eli at dinner, the warm light softening his sharp features. His delicate, graceful movements held a quiet allure—beautiful, vulnerable, and broken in ways that called to something deep within me.

I drummed my fingers against the smooth mahogany of my desk, my thoughts circling endlessly. Eli's presence in my home had awakened a hunger in me, a deep-seated need to guide and control. To shape and mold. It was a familiar ache, one I had felt with previous submissives. But with Eli, it was different. Sharper. More intense.

Perhaps it was the knowledge of what he had endured at the hands of the Children of the Light. The same cult that held my sister captive. In Eli, I saw a chance for redemption. A way to atone for failing Daniella by saving someone else from the cult's poison.

But even as that noble intention solidified in my mind, I couldn't deny the darker motives that lurked beneath. I wanted Eli for myself. Craved the rush of having that delicate, damaged boy kneeling at my feet. Of watching him shatter beautifully and then putting the pieces back together. It was a selfish desire, one that warred with the part of me that recognized Eli's fragility. His need for true healing, not another master.

Gavin cleared his throat softly, dragging me from my spiraling thoughts. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit I have concerns about bringing Elias into your service.”

I gestured for him to continue while opening the bottom drawer to bring out our favorite cognac. “You know I welcome and value your opinion, Gavin.”

Gavin inclined his head in acknowledgment, his gray eyes sharp and assessing. “Elias’s well-being isn’t my only concern. I worry what his presence might stir up in you—the challenges we’ve faced before.”

I poured two tumblers of cognac, the rich amber liquid sloshing gently. “You mean Keres and the others,” I said.

“Yes. Keres in particular—you know how he gets. Driven by appetite, no regard for limits or consequences. Incredibly possessive.”

I took a slow sip of cognac, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat. Gavin was right, of course. Keres had grown stronger over the years, harder to control. There was a part of me that feared what he might do if let loose on someone as fragile as Eli.

I looked at Gavin, meeting his steady gaze. “I understand your concerns. Truly, I do. But I can't turn my back on Eli. Not when I know the hell he's escaped from. The same hell that still holds Daniella.”

I drained the rest of my cognac in one swallow, relishing the fire it lit in my veins. “I'll have to be careful. Keep Keres on a tighter leash. Eli's needs come first—his healing, his recovery. That has to be the priority.”

Gavin sighed, but nodded. “As you wish. I'll do what I can to help, of course. Perhaps we could start by assigning Elias some regular duties around the house. Give him that sense of structure and purpose he seems to crave, without pushing him into a true submissive role before he's ready.”

“An excellent suggestion,” I agreed. My mind was already racing ahead, considering how best to help Eli settle in and begin to flourish. “We'll take things slow. Let him adjust to being here. And watch him carefully, for any signs that it's too much.”

“And the Children of the Light?” Gavin asked, tone sharpening. “Your plans for them?”

A muscle ticked in my jaw. “Those plans remain unchanged. I will tear that cult apart, root and stem, until I have my sister back and every last one of those twisted zealots is either dead or rotting in prison.”

Gavin drained the last of his cognac and set the tumbler on my desk with a soft clink. “I'll take my leave then. But Shepherd... be careful. Don't let your desire for revenge against the cult blind you to the risks of taking on a submissive as damaged as Elias. Tread carefully.”

I inclined my head in acknowledgment, even as a wry smile tugged at my lips. “When am I not careful, Gavin?”

Gavin snorted softly. “I think we both know you have your blind spots, especially when family is involved. Don't let Elias become one of them.”

With those parting words, Gavin saw himself out, the heavy oak door of the study closing behind him with a muffled thud. I sat in pensive silence for a long moment, turning his advice over in my mind, examining it from every angle. There was wisdom in his warning. I couldn't deny that. But the pull I felt toward Eli, the need to guide him, to possess him, to remake him... it was undeniable. A craving that coiled hot and insistent in my veins.

I found myself rising from my chair almost without conscious thought, drawn inexorably toward the kitchen where I had left Eli. I paused in the doorway, something in my chest clenching at the sight that greeted me.

I leaned against the doorframe, silently observing as Eli bent over the sink, his slender hands submerged in soapy water. He had removed his oversized hoodie, leaving him in a thin white t-shirt that clung to his lithe frame.

As I watched him work, a quiet sense of rightness settled over me. Seeing him here, absorbed in this simple task, he looked vulnerable yet comfortable. As if he belonged here. Under my care.

Eli shifted slightly, the movement causing his shirt to ride up, exposing a strip of pale skin above the waistband of his jeans. My gaze zeroed in on that tantalizing glimpse of flesh, a sudden hunger sparking to life inside me. I imagined trailing my fingers along that smooth expanse, feeling the warmth of his skin, the shudder that would run through his slight frame at my touch.

The desire that had been simmering in my veins since Eli's arrival surged to the forefront, hot and insistent. I wanted him. Wanted to take him apart, piece by piece. To lay bare his secrets, his scars. To possess him—wholly, completely. Body and soul.

I watched, transfixed, as Eli continued his task, seemingly unaware of my presence. His movements were graceful, almost reverent, as he carefully washed each dish.

As I watched him, my thoughts began to wander down a familiar path. I imagined guiding Eli's hands as he worked, molding his motions to my liking. Teaching him to serve me not just in this, but in all things. The image sent a thrill through me, my cock stirring to life.

I pictured Eli kneeling before me, those haunting eyes gazing up at me with a mix of trust and trepidation. Submitting to my will, his slender body trembling under my hands. The thought alone was enough to make me fully hard, my erection straining against my slacks.

I remained in the doorway a moment longer, drinking in the sight of Eli. The domesticity of it all, the sheer rightness of having him here in my home, carrying out this simple task, struck me anew. It was a glimpse of what could be, if I managed to tread the delicate line between guiding him and breaking him entirely.

With effort, I wrenched my gaze away and forced my feet to carry me out of the kitchen, leaving Eli to his work. I needed to clear my head, to regain some semblance of control over the hunger coursing through my veins. The desire to possess, to claim, to conquer.

In my bedroom, I stripped off my slacks and button-down, the clothes suddenly feeling far too constricting. I replaced them with a pair of soft, fitted pajama pants and a snug t-shirt that clung to my chest and arms like a second skin. The fabric did little to hide the evidence of my arousal, my cock still half-hard and clearly outlined against the thin material.

I took a moment to breathe deeply, trying to center myself. But thoughts of Eli continued to swirl through my mind - the graceful movement of his hands, the vulnerability in his eyes, the tantalizing strip of pale skin above his waistband. It all coalesced into a singular, overwhelming need. To touch, to take, to make him mine in every way possible.

When I returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, Eli was finishing up the dishes. He turned to face me as I entered, his eyes widening slightly as they flickered over my body. His gaze lingered a second too long on the way the thin fabric of my pants hugged my thighs, the unmistakable outline of my half-hard cock.

A delicate flush crept into Eli's pale cheeks and he quickly averted his eyes, focusing intently on drying his hands on a dishtowel. But I had seen the flash of interest in his gaze, the unconscious way his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“I appreciate you taking care of the dishes, Eli,” I said, as I stepped into the kitchen.

“It’s the least I can do,” he murmured, eyes downcast, his fingers absently twisting the dish towel.

I took a step closer. “You don't owe me anything, Eli. I want you to understand that. You're not here to serve me or earn your keep.”

Eli's hands twisted in the dish towel, his knuckles white. “I know. I just... I want to be useful. To have a purpose.” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw with unspoken emotion.

My heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, the way he seemed to be fighting against his own instincts. I recognized the struggle all too well—the war between the desire to submit and the fear of what that submission might mean.

I took another step forward, drawn by an irresistible force. The air between us crackled with tension, the space separating our bodies suddenly charged and heavy. Eli's eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide and uncertain, a hint of something else lurking in them. Anticipation, perhaps. Or fear.

He was close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating off his slight frame, could catch the subtle scent of dish soap and something uniquely him. Clean and sharp, with an underlying sweetness. It made my head swim, my fingers itch with the urge to reach out and touch. To trail along the delicate line of his jaw, to bury themselves in the silken strands of his hair.

“Shepherd, I...” Eli's voice wavered, barely above a whisper. His teeth worried at his bottom lip, the small silver ring there catching the light.

I silenced him with a look, a silent command. He fell quiet immediately, his posture shifting subtly. Shoulders curving inward, head dipping down. Submitting. The sight sent a dark thrill through me, a rush of heady power.

I slowly lifted my hand, giving Eli plenty of time to pull away. When he didn't, I gently cupped his chin, tilting his face up to meet my gaze. His skin was soft and warm beneath my fingers, his pulse fluttering wildly at the hollow of his throat.

“You're doing so well, Eli,” I murmured, letting my thumb trace the plush curve of his bottom lip, catching lightly on the silver ring. “I'm pleased with your progress already.”

Eli shivered, his eyes slipping half-closed. A breathy sound escaped him, halfway between a sigh and a whimper. It made heat coil tight in my gut, my cock hardening further.

I let my touch linger a moment longer, relishing the way Eli trembled beneath my fingertips. His lips parted slightly, his tongue darting out to wet them, an unconscious invitation. It took every ounce of my self-control not to claim that tempting mouth with my own, to devour him until he was breathless and begging.

But I held back, knowing Eli wasn't ready for that. Not yet. He was still too fragile, too uncertain of his place here. I needed to be patient, to guide him gently into his new role.

“You've had a long day,” I said softly, letting my hand fall away from his face. “Why don't you head to bed? We can talk more in the morning.”

Eli blinked up at me, a flicker of disappointment crossing his delicate features. But he nodded, stepping back and breaking the charged connection between us. “Okay. Goodnight, Shepherd.”

“Goodnight, Eli. Sleep well.” I watched as he turned and padded out of the kitchen, his slim hips swaying slightly with each step. The urge to follow him, to press him into the mattress and map every inch of that pale skin with my hands and mouth, still strong.

I gripped the edge of the counter, fingers pressing hard into the cool marble, grounding myself. Closing my eyes, I slowed my breath. Forced my heartbeat to steady, to stay in control. The hunger Eli evoked in me was practically overwhelming, almost as if…

Keres.

There was a sudden, sharp pressure building behind my eyes, a telltale sign of Keres trying to push his way to the surface. My alter's presence had grown increasingly insistent since Eli's arrival, like a predator catching the scent of wounded prey.

I gripped the edge of the counter harder, my knuckles turning white as I fought to maintain control. Keres was relentless, battering against the mental walls I had erected to keep him contained. His primal hunger swirled in my chest, a ravenous need to claim and possess.

He’s ours, Keres growled , voice dark and insistent . Let me have him.

I shook my head, jaw clenched tight. “No,” I gritted out, the word feeling like broken glass in my throat. “It’s too soon. It will only hurt him now.”

Keres snarled, a sound of pure frustration. He's stronger than you think. I can smell it on him, the need, the desperation. He wants to be claimed, to be conquered. To surrender.

Images flashed through my mind, vivid and visceral. Eli on his knees, those haunting eyes glazed with desire. Eli spread out on my bed, pale skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the tantalizing visions Keres was flooding my mind with. Hunger surged, almost palpable—a scorching heat, an ache pulsing at the edge of my control.

“Not yet,” I ground out, my voice strained with the effort of holding Keres back. “He's been through too much. We have to be careful with him, take things slow.”

You want him, Keres hissed. I can feel it. The way you ache to bury yourself inside him.

I couldn't deny the truth of Keres' words. The desire to possess Eli, to claim him wholly and irrevocably, was like a living thing inside me, clawing at my insides, desperate for release. But I knew I had to be stronger than that base instinct. For Eli's sake, if not my own.

“Of course I want him,” I admitted, my voice rough.

But Keres’ hunger was there too, woven into my thoughts, pressing insistently. Take him. Claim him. His spirit is stronger than you think.

I shook my head, silently pushing back the urge. “Not like this. Not yet.” Eli’s fragility demanded restraint. We had to be patient. For now.

Keres fell silent for a moment, a tense stillness filling my mind. But then I sensed a subtle shift, a begrudging acceptance in the air.

Fine , Keres finally replied, his voice more measured, the growl tempered. I’ll behave—for now. But don’t think for a second that I’ll be content to sit on the sidelines forever.

Relief washed over me, but it was quickly tempered by the awareness of Keres’ underlying threat. “I know,” I replied, my voice steadying. “And I appreciate your understanding. We’ll have our time, but we need to build a foundation first.”

Another pause lingered, the tension easing but still present, a silent agreement between us. I would have to tread carefully, balancing my needs with the fragile trust Eli was beginning to show.

As I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, the weight of Keres’ presence shifted slightly, though I could still sense his eagerness lurking beneath the surface. But I had control. For now.