14. Good GirlNot?

Immediately after walkinginto the large auditorium, Isobel knew her first period was going to be a nightmare.

The professor for Icon Matters stood before a projected screen, his qualifications lighting up the wall behind him.

Professor Mathieu Dubois was a man with more degrees in marketing and communication than Isobel had designer dresses, but that wasn’t his greatest qualification.

He was a human. An official.

All six of the new human students were already seated in the front row, some of them with their fake mates beside them. Niko sat on the end of the row, left leg raised, foot notched against the low wall in front of their seats. He was slumped in his chair, his face turned slightly toward Mei as though half listening to what she was saying.

Are we doing the group thing or the fake girlfriend thing?Theodore asked through the bond, likely spotting Wallis, Ellis, and James in the right wing of auditorium seats.

Isobel needs to make contact with Silva so they can start a public relationship, Elijah answered. He’s sitting with Bellamy.

Isobel sighed, and the hall fell to silence, most of the students noticing that the Alpha group had arrived. It was rare for all of them to be in the same class, and the students were likely curious to see who would rule the academy now that the humans were there.

Isobel broke away from the group as Theodore, Elijah, and Gabriel headed to the right, the rest of the group moving to the left wing of seats.

Bellamy stood up, waving to her, and she picked her way over to him.

“Hey, nutter.” He grinned, eyeing her. “You look almost healthy.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly. “Can I sit here?”

Silva glanced between them, confused.

“Go ahead.” Bellamy gestured the seat beside him, but Isobel wedged past, claiming Bellamy’s seat so that she was beside Silva. “Um, okay.” Bellamy sat on her other side. “You know Silva, right?”

Isobel did her best to smile shyly at the Beta. He held out his hand, but she pretended not to notice it because she could feel more than one set of eyes boring into her, and she felt murderous vibes emanating down through her bond.

“Why aren’t you sitting with Kahn?” Isobel asked Bellamy, spotting the shiny dark hair of his fake mate in the front row.

“She told me she was so glad she got to go first, because she wasn’t sure what kind of diseases the settlement kids could be carrying,” Bellamy drawled. “So when there weren’t enough seats in the front row, I was happy to sacrifice my spot.”

Isobel’s eyes bugged in surprise. “She didn’t!”

“She sure did.” Bellamy wiggled his brows. “So I never thought I would ask this, but when are the Alphas going to step up and put them in their place?”

Isobel shrugged. “When have the Alphas ever stepped up to put someone in their place?”

“They did it with you, didn’t they?” Silva asked, his jaw tight as he cast a nervous glance toward the side wing, where Oscar, Moses, Cian, and Kilian were sitting. Oscar’s expression was downright sociopathic—likely the reason nobody else was daring to sit on that side of the auditorium. Moses’s dark, stormy eyes were crawling around the room like he was searching for someone’s throat to slit. Cian’s face was serious, his brows lowered, his arms crossed, his legs sprawled out in front of him, but despite his casual posture, his muscles were bunched and tight, making it look like he was ready to spring up and attack at a moment’s notice. Even Kilian was glowering, his angelic features cast tight and stern.

“You mean when they accepted me into their group and made me like their precious little dorm sister?” Isobel asked Silva, crossing her arms and subconsciously mirroring Kilian’s posture.

Bellamy made a choking sound.

Silva stuttered, turning red. “Y-Yeah, n-no, not really, I guess. Didn’t Sato make them put you through initiation tasks last year?”

Isobel remembered she was supposed to be flirting with Silva and quickly uncrossed her arms. She bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes. “Were you worried about me?”

Stop that, Killian ordered, barging into her mind.

She straightened, releasing her lip.

I can’t get a fake boyfriend with you shouting in my head, she returned.

Do it without flirting, Cian butted into their conversation.

“I … yeah.” Silva smiled at her. “I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you.”

“What is even happening here?” Bellamy asked, leaning over Isobel. “Their precious little dormsister?”

She elbowed him. “Butt out.”

“You were so much cuter when you were afraid of me,” Bellamy grumbled.

“You were never cute.” She smiled at him sweetly.

He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “The poll conducted by Vouge Online last week would thoroughly disagree with you.”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “You mean Teen Vogue?”

“Health makes you mean,” Bellamy complained, leaning over her again to fix Silva in his sights. “You should know that, if you’re going to ask her out. She’s a horrible bully.”

“I was actually.” Silva seemed annoyed at Bellamy’s interference. “If you’re interested?—”

“Give me your phone,” Isobel suggested, holding out her hand, glad that the professor was finally calling everyone to attention. “I’ll text you later.”

After she handed Silva’s phone back, she tucked her hands into her lap and pretended to tune into the lesson.

It was nice to spend some time with Bellamy, but the rest of the day turned out to be tense and whisper-filled as the students tiptoed around the Alphas, gossiping about how Niko and the other Alphas were fighting. The students had decided, at some point, that the other Alphas wanted to make a stand against the humans, to put them in their place, but Niko had gone against the group.

It was imbecilic, but almost everyone at the academy believed it by the end of the day. She was emotionally exhausted from trying to ignore all the whispering students when she stepped into the climbing gym for her private session with Kalen, surprised that he wanted to continue with the climbing when she needed singing lessons more than anything.

Still, she was grateful, so she didn’t say anything.

He locked the door and checked her harness without a word, but some of the tension eased from his body as she came down from the wall at the end of the hour, an exhausted smile spreading over her face.

Her private session with Elijah, which comprised her final hour of classes for the day, turned out to be a singing lesson. Elijah was just as intuitive and thoughtful in the way he approached that lesson as he had been with her piano lessons.

When they were finished, they walked together to one of the practice rooms, meeting up with Gabriel, who was already warming up inside. They hadn’t actually planned to dance together that afternoon, but they fell into it naturally, playing around with a few different songs and choreography ideas until they found something that captured their attention. Half an hour into their practice time, they switched to speaking in Isobel’s head. An hour into the practice time, they were working on group choreography and the remaining anxiety from her day had finally melted away.

She was still tense, still upset about Niko, but dancing with Elijah and Gabriel just felt so effortless and familiar. She could tell they were also shedding some of their stress, so she agreed when Gabriel suggested they train for another hour. It was almost seven thirty when all of their watches vibrated with a message.

Kalen: Isobel is due at the boathouse in an hour.

“Shit.” Isobel rushed over to the seat where she had left her bag, stuffing her phone and headphones into it before pulling her shoes back on.

They jogged all the way back to Dorm A, and Gabriel stepped into her room with her, turning on her light and checking every corner as though Silva might have snuck in and planted another voodoo package.

“Are you ready for tonight?” he asked, following her into the bathroom, and then through to the dressing room.

She stared at the racks of neatly hung clothing and handbags, the rows of heels, and the boxes stacked into the corner. “Who did all this?”

“Well, it wasn’t me,” Gabriel said, staring distastefully at the stacked boxes. “It isn’t even sorted by colour.”

She realised he was entirely serious, and her lips slipped into a smirk. “What am I supposed to wear?” she asked, biting back her smile at his clear disgust over the way her wardrobe had been organised.

He pulled out his phone. “I’ll ask Cian or Kilian.”

“They’ve never been inside the Stone Dahlia.” She tilted her head at him.

“Yeah … and they’ll still be more helpful.” Gabriel dropped his phone back into his pocket, levelling her with a blank stare.

“I guess you’re staying, though?” she asked.

“What gave me away?”

“The whole not walking out of the room thing. Dead giveaway.”

“I’ll try to be more subtle next time.”

“You do that.”

Something sparked to life in his russet eyes, causing a tug low in her stomach.

“Are you flirting with me, puppy?”

She laughed nervously. “What? No. What’s flirting?”

His lips twitched. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

She wavered, glancing toward the open dressing room door before stepping in his direction. His eyes flared, a low vibration of sound emanating from his throat—almost a warning.

“You still haven’t showered?” Cian called out, stepping into the bathroom.

Isobel froze, spinning away from Gabriel as Cian and Kilian spilled into the dressing room. Gabriel moved behind her, his hands settling onto her hips as he pressed against her back.

“Isobel doesn’t know what to wear to the Dahlia,” Gabriel said, releasing her hips to toy with the hem of her shirt.

Cian and Kilian both eyed Gabriel’s fingers before fixing to Isobel’s face, weighing her expression.

“From what I’ve heard, people go all out for the club,” Kilian finally said, licking his lips slowly before tearing his eyes away and walking over to the racks of clothing.

Cian kicked the dressing room door closed, leaning up against it and crossing his arms. “Do you know what you’re in for tonight, Illy?”

Without warning, Gabriel had pulled the hem of her shirt over her head, but he didn’t free her arms. He tugged the shirt behind her and down to her wrists and then looped it around to tighten it, pulling her wrists together behind her back. Isobel stumbled, but Gabriel stepped into her body again, his hard torso radiating heat and tension.

“Are you going to ask Kalen to play with you, Sigma?” Gabriel ducked to whisper the words against her temple, twisting her shirt further and forcing her wrists into a tighter bind.

Her stomach clenched, her breath stuttering. “I’m just going to stand in a corner and stay out of the way.”

“Maybe he could have pulled that off last year.” Kilian extracted a dress to eye the material before dismissing it and moving on to the next. “But not anymore. There’s no way he can play with another woman for hours with as much focus and intensity as he needs when you’re watching on from behind him.”

He chose a dress and draped it over the back of a velvet armchair in the corner, beginning to sift through a row of drawers. He seemed to know exactly where everything was, so Isobel assumed he was at least partly responsible for her organised wardrobe. Perhaps Cian had helped him, and that was why Gabriel had called them both in.

“We all know exactly how this is going to play out,” Gabriel warned her lowly. “And your prince charming is now a budding supervillain, so there’s nobody here to make sure the rest of us don’t push you.”

“I take personal offence to that statement,” Kilian said calmly, eyeing some sort of satin bodysuit. “Niko isn’t her only prince charming.”

Cian snorted. “Right. There’s nobody left except Kilian—who is happy to lie about his sexuality as long as Isobel doesn’t stop showering with him.”

Kilian’s lips twitched, but he ignored Cian as he carried the satin thing over to Isobel. “This should do. The pale rose will look beautiful against your skin.”

“I c-can’t just wear that.” Isobel stuttered over the words because Gabriel’s free hand had slipped across her stomach and was now toying with the waistband of her tights.

Kilian seemed struck, distracted as Gabriel’s thumb hooked into the waistband, pulling it down.

“You’re going to wear it under a dress,” he said, his eyes travelling back to hers, the pale depths so full of heat it felt like a punch to her gut.

She didn’t have that relationship with Kilian, and he seemed to realise that he was devouring her with his eyes after a moment, because he blinked, and the heat was dulled—not extinguished, but controlled.

He spun, tossing the satin garment to Cian, who watched her with a calculating expression.

“You can’t go into this scared,” Gabriel warned her, suddenly bending to tug her tights to her ankles. “You may need to make the first move, Isobel.”

“Me?” She blanched, and then hiccupped in shock as Gabriel straightened again, cupping her between the legs, his lips whispering over her temple.

“You,” he said, dragging a finger across the damp seam of her panties and making her squirm. “He doesn’t want to cross that boundary, but his own stubbornness is only going to cause another soul infraction.”

The heel of his palm ground against her clit, forcing a stuttered whine to trip from her throat. Cian and Kilian both stepped closer, pupils dilating.

“Say yes, puppy.” Gabriel’s order was a purr. “Say you’ll ask him to play with you.”

“Y-yes.” The word was a strangled sound, and Gabriel suddenly stepped back, unwrapping her wrists, and leaving her to stand there, trembling in her underwear.

“Good girl,” he praised, swiping the pad of his finger across his tongue, his eyes darkening.

Isobel’s legs turned wobbly, her mouth pooling with saliva, her face burning with heat. Seeing Gabriel of all people doing something so dirty was making her insides riot. She was so wet she could feel it against the insides of her thighs, and the scents swelling around her were so heady, she was sure all three of them were feeling the same lust as her.

Cian looked like he was torn between the knowledge that she was expected somewhere else, and soon, and the urge to experiment with her flushed, trembling state. Kilian was controlling his expression, but she could smell how his scent had changed. It was more bergamot than bark and felt like a spray of citrus on her skin, sweet and sticky like honey. It was a scent she desperately wanted to lick off the perfect curve of his jaw, and she found herself staring at his soft, pillowy, pink lips.

“Twenty minutes,” Gabriel warned, moving to the door. “Don’t forget you’ll be part of Kalen’s performance. He’ll expect you to look the part.”

She jerked her head in a stiff nod, tracking Cian and Kilian as they moved to follow Gabriel. She almost grabbed Kilian’s sleeve to hold him back but managed to clench her fingers into a fist and keep her hands to herself.

As soon as they left, she tossed herself into the shower, quickly lathering herself in body wash, but when her fingers slipped between her legs, she found herself still swollen and desperate, her skin slick. She stumbled back against the wall, breath ragged as her finger brushed her clit.

I’m still here. Kilian’s pleasant rumble drifted through her mind, and a groan slipped unbidden from her throat.

Fuck, baby. His voice grew in volume, moving closer. You’re making the safe space feel really fucking unsafe right now.

She jerked her hand away, pretending not to hear Kilian. His muted, husky chuckle haunted her as she rushed through the rest of her shower and stepped into the satin bodysuit—the colour and cut matched the dress he had chosen too precisely for the two items to not be a pair. The dress was pale-rose silk chiffon, hugging her curves gently, falling to a ripple mid-thigh. It dipped low in the front and the back but had delicate lace insets that made the ensemble soft and feminine, and hid the bodysuit beneath. It was plain, almost, but the way the material clung and waved over her frame made it beautiful.

She stepped into ballet flats, ignoring the heels stacked inside her wardrobe because her foray into the Stone Dahlia wasn’t going to be on camera and she didn’t know if she would be standing all night or not.

She teased some hair oil into the ends of her strands, trying to ignore the awful pang of pain that accompanied the slide of her fingers through the tresses. She could still hear the scraping sound of Eve’s blade sawing back and forth and the rustle of her hair falling away. She swallowed past the bile collecting in her mouth, pausing to lean on the bathroom counter until the sensation had passed.

She moisturised her face and picked up a thick makeup brush to dust her skin with foundation. It was the first time she had bothered with makeup since she had last been at Ironside. There hadn’t been enough time before her tour the day before to do anything except throw on a change of clothes and brush her hair.

How attached are you to those freckles? Skin bleaching is an option.

Cooper’s voice floated back to her as she assessed her image, compelling her to set the foundation back down with a sound of disgust. She dusted on some blush and darkened her lashes with a pass of mascara, finishing the simple look with a wet rose tint on her lips that complimented the tone of her dress. Her freckles stood out starkly.

She slipped out of the room and found Kilian reclined on her bed, playing with his phone. His head rolled to the side, pale eyes drifting down to her toes before crawling back up.

“Where are you off to?” he asked, expression blank, pretending like he didn’t know.

“Uh … Ironside Row.” She grappled for an answer before spinning so that the hem of her skirt flared out slightly. “What do you think?”

“Hmm.” His eyes became shadowed as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, unfurling to his full height. “Who are you going to Ironside Row with?”

“Nobody,” she hedged, deciding this might be a good moment to sneak in a mention of Silva. “But … maybe I’ll run into someone. I don’t know.”

“Someone who?” Kilian demanded, playing into his role with a little too much ease. “Who are you trying to impress, Illy?”

“Mateus Silva?” She blurted it out as a question, which seemed to make Kilian’s lips twitch into an almost-smile before he smoothed it away.

“Silva?” he questioned in a grumbling voice. “The guy you were sitting next to in Icon Matters?”

“Uh, yeah?” She rubbed her neck nervously. “He’s a really good dancer, and he’s … pretty hot.”

“You think so?” Kilian laughed, the sound breaking free in a soft rumble. “Can’t say he’s my type. Too much hair gel and his shirts are too tight.”

Isobel rolled her eyes, Kilian’s taunt chasing her as she left the room.

“Don’t have too much fun tonight!”

She hurried downstairs and was about to knock on Kalen’s door when Mikel’s door opened, the scarred Alpha appearing. “A word, Carter?”

He stepped back, motioning her inside.

“I already let Kalen know you’d be held up for a few minutes,” he said, closing the door behind her and motioning her to his desk.

She moved to one of the armchairs facing his desk, but he caught her arm, steering her to the other side instead.

“Sit.” He gestured to the thick walnut desktop.

She stared at it blankly and then blinked at Mikel.

“Sit, Sigma.” His tone was gentle, this time, but it carried a hint of Alpha command, and she quickly parked her butt onto the edge of his desk.

She cleared her throat. “What’s this about?”

“Your punishment.” He stepped into her personal space, cocking his head as he loomed over her, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was dressed in a suit, but he had lost his tie and vest at some point, loosening the top few buttons, giving him a rumpled look that complimented his savage features. He looked reckless and stern, a combination that had her stomach flipping. “You disobeyed direct orders that were given for your safety, and that has repercussions around here.”

There was something about him that had alarm bells ringing in her head. He had completely cut himself off from their bond so that even when she peeked hesitantly through her wall, she still felt nothing. He leaned slightly over her, washing her in his scent as he plucked a glass from the desk. She felt her chest rising as she pulled in a deep, unconscious breath of rain-soaked cedarwood, and she could have sworn he also paused, his nostrils flaring before he eased back, offering her the glass.

It was the same drink he had offered her the night he and Kalen first spoke to her about the Stone Dahlia—amber liquid garnished with a twist of orange and a single cherry. The repeated gesture seemed oddly deliberate.

“For courage,” Mikel said, almost sounding as though he was warning her as he watched her carefully. “But don’t drink too much.”

Goosebumps peppered her skin, her chest constricting. “What’s my punishment?”

“Firstly …” Mikel fit a long finger to the base of her glass, raising it. She directed it to her lips, and he lifted it further, spilling the bitter, smoky liquid into her mouth. “I would love to treat you like one of my Alphas, but in this instance … I can’t.” He eased up on the glass, allowing her to swallow and suck in a shallow breath before he stole the drink away from her, setting it onto the desk again. He stepped back, staring at her mouth as she licked whiskey from the swell of her lower lip.

“I need you to understand that I meant what I said yesterday. I won’t be having sex with you.”

Her posture snapped up straight, shock making her feel stupid. What? Who said anything about sex?

“Okay,” she choked out.

“But I’m going to discipline you like you’re mine because you are.”

“O-okay,” she repeated, a little more hesitant now.

“This is the first and last time I remind you about your safe words before touching you. From tonight onwards, I expect you to always use them when you need them. Understood?”

She stilled, her heart skipping several beats. “You’re going to touch me?”

His hands dropped to her thighs, his fingers slipping between her legs and prying them apart with a suddenness and strength that had a yelp catching in the back of her throat.

He was touching her.

He forced his body between her parted legs, surveying the way her chest rose and fell too quickly, and the widening of her eyes. He gripped her chin, lifting her face to his.

“Understand, pet?”

“Yes.” The word rushed out of her. “I won’t forget my words. I promise.”

“Good girl.” He stroked his thumb beneath her lower lip before he eased back a few inches. “Your punishment is simple. No orgasms for the next twelve hours. Say ‘yes, sir.’”

She didn’t answer him right away, drinking in the unflinching, serious expression on his face. There was no emotion there. Nothing in his eyes. Nothing in the bond. He had separated himself from her completely while he punished her, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Or how to feel about his command.

It should be easy, right?

“Why?” she finally asked.

His lips curved, satisfaction sparking in his eyes. He planted his hands either side of her on the desk, leaning down until he was at her eye level. “You just doubled the sentence, Isobel. Let’s try that again. Your punishment is simple. No orgasms for the next twenty-four hours. Say ‘yes, sir.’”

“Yes, sir,” she rushed out, her face flushing hot, her fingers tingling with shock and a little bit of fear.

It wasn’t that she thought Mikel would hurt her, but she hadn’t expected the rapid escalation of his punishment.

He rumbled out a sound of approval, straightening again, his fingers drifting down the front of her dress. “This is pretty.” He flipped up the skirt, his fingers playing across the satin of her bodysuit, a few inches above where she was suddenly desperate for—and terrified of—pressure. She swallowed, her face flushing brighter. She was sure that there was a wet patch on the dusky pink material.

Mikel hummed in the back of his throat. “Pull this to the side and hold it there.”

She opened her mouth—to say what, she didn’t even know, but Mikel arched a challenging brow at her, his voice pushing into her mind.

Don’t test me, Carter.

She chewed on her lip, hooking her fingers into the seam of the bodysuit, pulling it to the side. The sudden coolness of air-conditioned air on her damp flesh had her trembling. Mikel’s gaze was lazy as he surveyed her exposed position. There was a muscle ticking in his cheek, but otherwise, he was still devoid of emotion.

“Don’t move,” he warned, stepping away from her and walking behind her. When he returned, he was holding a bowl of what appeared to be water, steam curling from the surface. He set the bowl down, his attention tight on her face.

“Why are you being punished?” he asked, rolling up one of his sleeves.

“Because I disobeyed an order that was for my own safety,” she answered as he rolled up his other sleeve.

He smiled at her, a roguish expression that stilled her heart, because it was so unguarded, so him. It almost felt like a gift, like he was cracking open his carefully controlled personality for just a moment and allowing her to see the man beyond the suit and the barked orders.

“Will you do it again?” he asked, dipping his hand into the bowl. Whatever he pulled out, it was nestled into the cocoon of his closed palm as he waited for the water to run off his skin and back into the bowl.

“Probably,” she said, because … well, that was the truth.

He smiled again, but this one was terrifying. “We’ll see.” The words were indulgent.

His fingers unfurled, revealing two small, dark metal balls threading through a smooth, black nylon string that looped at one end. “This is going to be hot,” he warned, before threading his pinkie through the loop in the thread and gripping the top ball. It was a little bigger than his thumb. He pressed it directly to the exposed flesh between her thighs, making her jump. The ball was hot—not scalding, but definitely warm enough to have her immediately squirming.

“Hmm …” He loomed closer, sliding the heated metal down, probing her opening. “Good girls aren’t supposed to get so wet when they’re being disciplined.”

She was squirming so much that he gripped her thigh, securing her to the desk.

“Maybe I’m not a good girl,” she rasped.

He gave her that beautiful, crooked smile again, suddenly pushing the ball inside her. Her mouth parted, her breath hot, her belly clenching almost painfully as Mikel forced the ball up higher, his touch curling and brushing her inner wall as he slid out his finger, leaving the ball inside her.

Her eyes glazed over, her thighs trembling as he inserted the second ball. The metal seemed to get even hotter once inside her body, and Mikel pushed the punishing sphere deep, releasing her thigh to grip her neck.

“Well?” He towered over her, forcing her head back so that he could hover his lips over hers, his finger still inside her. “What’s the verdict? Good girl or not?”

Her brain short-circuited. “G-good girl.”

“I thought so.” He stared at her mouth, something cracking in his expression. It was there and gone in a flash, but she felt the heaviness of his desire like a towering weight dropping right through her body before he pulled it back and hid it away again.

He lowered his head until his breath expelled in a choppy puff against her lips, tasting like the whiskey of the drink he had made her, and a hint of his sodden cedar scent. He usually smelled like wind whipping through trees as a storm blanketed a forest, but suddenly, that rain was hot. It was steam curling through foliage and mist creeping into her throat.

He pulled his finger from her again, forcing a whimper to her lips, and then he took her wrist, extracting her grip from her bodysuit and pressing her hand to the desk. He fixed up her clothing and then cupped her, much like Gabriel had earlier, the move possessive.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his grip around her neck tightening. “Nobody hurts what’s mine, not even you.”

Before she could answer or try to appease him—or beg him to prove it—his mouth was on hers, his tongue staking an immediate and heated claim that had her entire body shaking, a gush of honey coating his fingers through the satin, where he pressed against her insistently.

He let out a deep, satisfied growl before pulling back.

“Go, now.” He jutted his chin toward the doorway. “Twenty-four hours, Isobel. Or your punishment will be much worse.”

She slipped off the edge of his desk, wobbling on the spot at the strange, full feeling inside her, and the heat that radiated from Mikel’s toy.

“How …” Her voice broke and she tried again. “How do I get them out? What are they?”

“Ben Wa balls. And you don’t,” he told her, a rough timbre in his voice. “You ask for help, and you pray to the gods that you don’t fucking come while you’re getting it.”

She stumbled on her way to the door, her body heated and weak at the suggestion that Mikel was setting her up for failure. If she couldn’t remove them herself, she would have to ask one of the Alphas to touch her, which … usually led to an orgasm.

“Good luck tonight,” Mikel said before she could open the door. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

She paused, her hand on the knob, turning back to look at him. “Gabriel said I would need to ask Kalen to perform on me tonight. He said Kalen won’t ask me himself, but if he performs on another person in front of me, it will cause another infraction.”

Mikel pulled in a deep breath, snatching up his glass from the desk. He took a measured sip. “They’re right, but they’re also wrong. They don’t know how the soul infraction has affected us because they aren’t as … restricted … as we are. Kalen will need to appease his claim just as I needed to appease mine. Trust him, Sigma. Let him make his move. He won’t hurt you.” Mikel paused, his eyes dragging over her, fixing to her belly like he could see the weighted balls forcing her muscles to contract and sending tingles down her legs. “Well … not emotionally, anyway.”