Chapter 14

Dmitri

I give Daelyn a head start. Ten, nine, eight … when I reach one , I rise to my feet and make it from the bed to the door in a blink. She’s already at the end of the hallway, her hair flying behind her as she cuts to the right.

So, I go left.

Daelyn’s not leaving the club. She wants a chase. She wants danger.

And I plan to give it to her.

It’s not a surprise that she’s acting out. I put her in a tight spot—making her connect with me during that staring contest in a way I doubt she’s experienced before. It’s rattled her. Good . That means I’m one step closer to breaking her. This outburst only encourages my actions and solidifies my plan.

Heading straight for Ryker’s office, I barge in and find him staring at the surveillance screens with a scowl. “The fuck are you doing, D?”

“Having fun.” I storm over to the other side of his desk and quickly scan the monitors.

There she is…

Daelyn weaves through the crowded lobby and heads to the double doors that will take her into an employee only area.

“Make sure no one stops her,” I say gruffly to Ryker.

Before he can open his mouth and lecture me, I dash out of his office and head to the kitchen, where I’ll wait. It doesn’t take long for Daelyn to bust through the doors.

Standing to the side of a massive fridge, with a chef’s knife in my hand, I swear I feel her before I see her slip past me, as if Daelyn’s presence calls to my inner beast with a soundless cry. Acutely aware of her rapid breathing, the pat-pat-pat of her feet on the tile, the swish of her dress brushing across her thighs—it’s like all the other noises in the crowded kitchen have faded into nothing and all that exists in my world tonight is this woman.

I sneak up behind her and quickly hold the blade to her throat, pressing the backend of the knife against her skin. Daelyn freezes immediately, her chest rising and falling with each harsh breath that punches out of her.

Leaning in, I catch a whiff of her glorious floral scent and rumble against her ear, “ Found you .”

Spinning her around, I drop the knife on the counter and toss her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Everyone in the kitchen keeps their head down and stays busy while this happens. They don’t even bother to look up as I carry her out.

Daelyn kicks her feet and pounds on my back. “Put me down!”

“Not on your life, brat.” I spank her sweet ass twice, which makes her scream.

Unfazed by the club members gawking at us, I carry Daelyn through the entire club like she’s my prize. A treasure I now possess. Every time she moves, I spank her again. By the time we make it back up to the bedroom, I dump her unceremoniously onto the bed, letting her bounce on the mattress. Her cheeks are red, hair’s a mess, and that dress she’s in has ridden high enough to show off her glorious ass.

“Climb back up there,” I order. “And hold on to the motherfucking headboard straps.”

Daelyn doesn’t move.

“One,” I count in a deadly tone. “Two.”

She slowly scoots up until her back hits the headboard. Then, with a trembling chin, she holds the straps where the cuffs dangle and snaps at me, “You’re an asshole.”

I know .

“Am I, Daelyn? Why?”

“Because you… you’re…” Letting her gaze drop, she doesn’t say another word.

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

She thinks I’m an asshole because I’ve put her in a vulnerable position, even if she enjoyed every motherfucking second of it while it happened. What she’s not understanding is that she’s the one in control, even if I’m calling the shots. She could let go of the straps right now. She didn’t have to scoot up the bed.

She could have left the club.

Instead, she challenged me to chase her. Riled me up and set me loose.

I saw the way her eyes lit up when I admitted I would tear the world apart to get inside her. What she fails to realize is that I wasn’t talking about her pussy.

This woman is playing a cat-and-mouse game I don’t entirely understand.

Standing at the foot of the bed, I stare at her, taking in all the tiny clues her body’s giving me. “How do you feel right now, Daelyn?”

She swallows hard and glowers at me. “Like an idiot.”

“Why?”

“Because…” She looks away and I snap my fingers, which makes her eyes lock on mine again. Daelyn bristles, her grip tightening on the straps. “I feel too confused.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. “May I sit on the corner of the bed?”

She nods, looking surprised I’d ask permission.

The mattress dips from my weight. “What are you confused about?”

She takes several heartbeats to answer. “I don’t know why I slapped you. I don’t understand how I… what I’m…” She curses under her breath and lets go of the straps. “I’m a bad person.”

Agree to disagree. “Nothing you did here with me makes you a bad person, Daelyn. If someone’s ever made you feel shameful about what you like, that’s a conversation we’re going to have too. No one has the right to make you feel—”

“No, I mean I’m a bad person , Dmitri.” She tucks her legs under her butt and sits up. I can’t tell if she’s positioning herself to bolt again or curl up and hold herself.

Or pounce on me.

“Tell me how you’re bad.” If I know her thought process, then maybe I can help her work through it.

“I’m not telling you anything. I’ve already said too much, and it’s got me all messed up.” She scrubs her face and sighs. “I need to leave.”

I don’t want her walking out of here with how things stand between us. “Stay the night with me here in the club.”

“I think it’s better if I go.”

“Why?”

“Jesus, can’t you just drop it! I’m a bad person who does bad things and being here… with you… it’s only because I—” She sucks back the rest of the sentence. I notice her hands are shaking. “I should check in with someone. Where’s my phone?”

“It’s safely locked away downstairs. We don’t allow cells or cameras of any kind in the club for several reasons. I can’t allow you to have it, Daelyn. It’s protocol.”

She climbs off the bed in a huff. “Then I definitely have to leave.”

“Who do you need to check in with?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

“It is when you’re under my care.”

Her expression softens for a fraction of a second. It happens so fast I almost miss it. But she likes the idea of being under my care and the way she pushed, obeyed, and is currently acting out, has me scratching my original plan and forming a new one.

“As your Dom, in or out of the club, I’ll protect you and take care of you, Daelyn.”

Her breathing picks up, and I think she’s about to cry.

“You hitting me earlier wasn’t to spike my lust. Hurt people, hurt people. Is that why you think you’re a bad person, Daelyn?”

She stares at me like she loathes me. For someone who wears some kind of mask to hide her emotions, they always end up leaking out of her eyes, anyway. I don’t like it when she cries. But sometimes we have to let our emotions out, so they don’t eat us alive. I have fighting as my outlet. What does Daelyn have?

Me. She has me .

“I hit people all the time,” I say cautiously. “Am I a bad person because I fight?”

Risking another slap to the face, I cautiously start closing the distance between us. She doesn’t move away like I anticipate. She still hasn’t broken eye contact with me either.

Such a good girl .

I love a woman who stands her ground, even when she’s scared while doing it.

Soon, I hope Daelyn will learn she doesn’t have to fear me. “I’ll never hurt you,” I say softly. “I don’t expect you to believe me tonight, but if you stick around, you’ll find out how well I treat people. I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and I promise I will never, ever hurt you.”

She doesn’t flinch when I slowly reach up and tuck some of her hair behind her ear.

“Stay,” I whisper, keeping my gaze locked on hers. “ Please .” Leaning down, I press my mouth to hers, lingering long enough for her to moan against my lips, then I pull away gracefully.

“I’m so sorry I hit you,” she whispers.

“Don’t be.”

“I shouldn’t have done that. It came from a place of anger.” She sounds genuinely remorseful.

“You didn’t hurt me, Firefly.” Even though I’m sure the handprints on my face would suggest otherwise. “I’m good at taking a beating.”

She gulps, her brows knitting together with what can only be described as sympathy. If this is what it’ll take to get her to open up to me, so be it. It’s not like my past is a secret, anyway. I came to peace with my existence a long fucking time ago.

“Who hurt you?” I ask, knowing I’m prying.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does to me.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Which is why I’m asking, who hurt you ?”

She holds my stare for another few heartbeats, her mouth firmly sealed shut. I almost give up and change the subject when she suddenly blurts out, “Who hurt you ?”

Lie for a lie. Truth for a truth.

“My mother.”

Let the next game begin.