Chapter 4: Power Plays

My body tensed, but as soon as I caught his familiar scent, I relaxed.

It was Derek, unmistakably. He always smelled of cedar and expensive soap, something clean and sharp that lingered in my sheets for days.

Derek buried his face in my neck, his warm breath making me shiver.

His lips brushed the spot just below my ear, making goosebumps prickle along my arms. I instinctively tilted my head, heart pounding.

Strange—why was he home so early tonight?

Usually, I had the place to myself until the small hours. His early return set off alarm bells in my mind.

Noticing my distraction, he suddenly bit me, hard.

I gasped, the sharp pain startling me. For a second, I almost laughed—was he marking his territory?

Hiss…

Was this man a dog?

I bit back a retort, swallowing my annoyance. In my head, I called him a brat, but out loud, I kept quiet.

But I didn’t dare get angry. I only whispered, “That hurts.”

My voice was soft, almost apologetic. I couldn’t risk his temper tonight.

“Suck it up. You’ll live.”

He didn’t soften, not even a little. There was something almost childish in the way he doubled down, like he wanted proof that he could leave a mark.

With that, he picked me up and tossed me onto the bed.

I landed with a thud, the mattress bouncing beneath me. Derek hovered over me, eyes glittering in the low light.

In these three years, he was never gentle in bed. Tonight was no different.

There were no slow caresses or whispered promises. Just hunger, sharp and insistent. I braced myself for the storm.

He stripped off my robe, and as I was drowning in his embrace, I heard him ask, “Where’s my birthday present?”

His lips barely left my skin, but his words were clear. I pointed blindly at the nightstand, my pulse skittering.

I pointed to the bedside table.

He reached over, flipping the lid off the box. The belt gleamed under the lamp.

He opened it, saw the belt in the box, and let out a low laugh.

It wasn’t a kind laugh—more amused than pleased. He held the belt up, turning it in his hands.

He raised an eyebrow. “What, planning to tie me up with this?”

His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it. The question hung in the air, dangerous.

Seeing his cold face, I instinctively shook my head. How could I dare? After all, what am I? Just a lover kept in the shadows.

I shrank back, wishing I could melt into the sheets. My tongue felt thick and useless.

“Good that you know.”

His approval was cold comfort. He always made sure I remembered my place.

He picked up the belt and skillfully tied my hands together. The rough leather was uncomfortable, and I felt even more humiliated. I hated how part of me thrilled at the loss of control, even as shame prickled at my skin.

“Mr. Callahan, don’t—”

I tried to protest, but the words caught in my throat.

Before I could finish, his kiss silenced me.

His mouth was relentless, stealing the air from my lungs. I surrendered, the fight draining out of me.

He was always like this: decisive and intimidating in the business world, domineering and relentless in bed, always making me cry.

His touch was a hurricane, and I was always left in the wreckage, trying to piece myself together again.

That night, my throat was nearly hoarse from shouting. When he finally got up, I saw his back was covered in red scratches from my nails.

I watched the thin lines crisscross his skin as he slipped into the bathroom. In the harsh light, they looked almost like battle scars.

After showering, Derek pulled me into his arms and quickly fell asleep. But I didn’t sleep a wink all night.

His breathing deepened, even and slow. I lay awake, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, wondering how much longer I could keep living this half-life.