How dare she hold this from me for longer than moments? Fuck, even seconds? She knew Jacqueline was a manipulative bitch, and yet she waited to tell me. I wanted to smack that ass beet-red and make her sleep at the foot of the bed like my little servant, begging for forgiveness. And trust me when I say—I will. Because Lizith, my little bird, not only put my life in sudden disarray, but she knocked me on my ass and pissed me off.

I should be incomprehensively upset, with no ounce of desire or understanding in my mind, but I’m not. I’m knocked over and fucking in love with my sweet psycho. She came back and claimed me, in the only way she knew how, and I may be ready to reclaim what was once mine—shit, has always been mine. But I will make sure she licks my wounds and aids the bruises I will leave on that ripe ass of hers. The bite marks I will ruin her dainty little thighs with. Shit. I want her.

Once home, I get to work on making sure Jacqueline receives the homecoming of a lifetime. Am I pissed? Yes. Hurt? No. And the only reason I am disgusted and manic over Jacqueline isn't for the loss of the marriage I am about to end, but over the fact that she manipulated me. She thought she could win at making me out to be the fool. Oh, but this serpent is vile, and I will make sure the tables will flip on her.

For years, she dangled her power over my head like a thorny crown, and now I have all the power to give it back tenfold, and she better believe I will. I wait at my desk, staring at my inbox, knowing damn well Lizith has my email address. She knows where I live, having access to private information in my medical files, and she knows my life and more. A fucking email isn't hard to find with her long list of obsessive skills.

When her name pops up, I immediately open it and see the attached videos and pictures with a note.

Master,

I am beyond sorry for what I’ve done. I shouldn't have gone through with this without consulting you first. I should be sitting at your feet, begging you to take me back and forgive me. Please don't leave again. I don't want to waste more time trying to make you mine again when we could just be together.

Please, Master, my keeper… Xander. My love for you is bursting from me, and I’m not afraid to take this even further just to have you.

I read it over again, and a smug, proud smile tugs at my lips as my cock hardens. I love how she has always been mine. Always willing to apologize when she fucked up, and always willing to do something to be sorry just to let me have a reason to turn that ass pink.

I slowly type the next sentence out as if I were looking her deep in the eye.

Send me your address. Have your ass bare and face up when I get there. Don't make me have more than one reason to destroy you tonight, little bird.

I wait, and within fifteen seconds, she responds. Another twitch in my dick, knowing she is on the other end hungrily waiting for a drop of water in her drought for me.

What time, my love?

I laugh low in my throat, knowing she is probably rocking with joy in her seat.

Does it fucking matter? Your punishment begins now. Ass up and waiting for me. Don’t you dare let your ass touch the bed. I hope your legs and knees fucking burn with exhaustion by the time I get there. I will know that you disobeyed me if they are not sore and you aren't trembling when I walk in. Leave the key under the mat. My key.

A brief moment passes as I stand to pour myself a drink. Amber liquid in an expensive glass tumbler. Putting one hand against my side in a balled fist, the veins straining, I stand over my desk and see her response waiting. I open it and read the crisp black letters.

Yes, Master.

And just like that, I am reminded that in just a few short hours, I will be with my other half again. My broken one.

“Little bird, you didn't show up after my final class today,” I growl into the phone at Lizith, my cock hard and ready for what was supposed to be our end-of-day rendezvous. I’ve been seeing her now for a month and a half, and every day, I have spent my afternoon and nights with her.

“I’m so sorry. I slept through my alarm. I’m not feeling well, my love,” she whispers the last bit, sounding so damn fragile, and it takes a hold of my chest. I’m falling for her fast. Even though this started as nothing, it has grown into everything to me. I would break bones and end the life of anyone who’d try to take her away from me. Lizith was innocent and untouched before me, soft and gentle, reserved just for my hands. But in the time since I’ve first taken her innocence, her adoration and love for me grew and she molded herself into the perfect woman that I dreamed of since I knew what wanting someone was.

But back then, even before she became that person, I wanted the girl she was then, and more so as the woman she is now. She obsesses my thoughts, haunts them day in and day out. I crave her like the blood in my body craves its survival. I want her even when she is being her worst self. Selfish, jealous, and even a little bit psychotic. In fact, I want her even more then. She is the physical being of an injected drug. Lizith isn’t a woman you start something with and then slowly weed out when you get bored. You don't get tired of Lizith; you fucking chase her to the ends of the earth and then hope, fucking pray, that she keeps you. Because if she let me go, I would not just chase. I would crawl on burning ash and bleed for her. Bleed for her to take me back.

The keeper is kept by his little bird.

Suddenly, I lower my voice as the alpha in me wants to get to her and take care of her. She isn't capable of taking care of herself, because only I can do that for her—because I am her strength when she needs it. “What’s wrong, baby?” It’s rare for me to call her such a thing, but I feel possessive and itch to cure her.

I can practically see her flushed cheeks and innocent little smile, coming alive like a child who's been praised. “I think I have a terrible cold. I can barely keep my eyes open.” She sounds vulnerable, all alone and waiting for me.

“I have just the remedy for you. I’ll be there shortly. Leave a key under the mat in case you fall asleep. Lock the door, baby. I don’t want anyone getting to you before I do. I’ll be your knight in shining armor,” I joke lightly as I stand, grabbing my closed briefcase and keys from my desk.

“Oh, Xander, that is so unlike you. You are usually the scary dragon.” She giggles first then sniffs. Fuck, she's my kryptonite.

“Call me a jack of all trades.”

“I think more a man of decadence and chivalry.”

“Nah, just a beast caged for the night so I can tend to my sick queen. I am far from all things good, baby,” I growl with a smirk as I lock my office.

“Not true, ‘cause I wouldn't do the things I shouldn't do if I didn't believe there’s a great man underneath all the danger and thorny tendencies.” Her voice is hushed and gentle, setting the tone for me to be tame and in control of my rough side. I hurry to the car, picturing her in her bed, wrapped in my clothes she steals, thinking I have no clue that she does it. Silly girl.

“So what are you saying?” I prompt.

“I think you aren't a monster or a beast. I just think you are a king with darker desires that speak to those same parts of me. That’s what I’m saying, Xander,” she purrs, my name erotic sounding on her lips.

“Call me your keeper, and I promise to be only the gentle king tonight,” I challenge.

“You are always my keeper, and I could never go for too soft, maybe a little more gentle. But never go soft on me completely.”

“Never. I will be there soon, little bird.”

I hear her soft hum as she takes my praise. “See you, not soon enough.”

Within fifteen minutes, I am at her apartment door with my hands full with soup from the local bakery and some fizzy drink—like a real chump. I never even did things like this for my soon-to-be ex-wife. Not even close. And though this started out as something that was suppose to be nothing, I can’t help but see it’s beyond that now. Nothing has turned into everything to me.

She doesn't answer within seconds of my fist rapping against the door, so I let myself in with the key she left, impatient and determined to get in to see her. When I open the door, which gives a clear view of her small apartment’s hall where her room sits at the end, it frames her dainty little body. Her willowy legs are peeking out of one of my Harvard shirts she stole like a sneaky little pixie. Her long brown hair is thrown up on top of her head. And the part that grips my heart is the small amount of red blushing her cheeks and just under her upturned nose, where she has used a tissue over and over again to wipe away her sickness.

Lizith is my sick little bird, and this is the first time I will be able to tend to her like a real keeper would. She’s so fucking glorious in her weakness.

“Letting yourself in, I see,” she teases, stopping halfway to me in the middle of the hall.

“I was going to wait, but then I realized I’m not a man who can idly stand by and wait patiently to see his lady.” I start toward her slowly, my lip tugging in the corner as I watch her with deep intent.

She waits a second, her smile broadening until her dimples blossom and with barely a whisper, she remarks, “Chivalry. Told you, you still had it.” Her left knee bends slowly, swaying back and forth as her teeth catch hold of her lip. My growl comes from deep within my chest.

“It will be dead if you do not stop tempting the ungentlemanly side of me.” My stalking still stays steady, each of my steps carrying me slowly toward her.

“Maybe I like tempting th—” She stops when she coughs, her hand automatically going to her lips. And like that, I am on her, wrapping her up in my arms and taking her back to her room.

“You poor thing. How long have you felt like this?” I ask, laying her on the pristine, perfectly made bed covered in a silky gray duvet. I love her on a bed of silk. Her skin is like porcelain, and it should be treated as fucking such.

“Last night after I left your place, I started to feel a little uneasy. Then this morning, I woke up and my fever was out of control. 102.2 to be exact.”

I growl again. “Lizith, you should have called me. Whenever your body changes or needs attention, you tell me. I don’t like not knowing what is going on with you.” I stand back and start to undress, losing my vest and tie, and then my white shirt and jeans come next.

“You had a busy day. I didn't want to disturb you by being an inconvenience,” she responds, turning on her side to look up at me, her hands acting as her pillow under her cheek.

Now stripped to my black boxer briefs, she lets out a soft gasp as she takes in my entire form. I tower over her, and with a soft caress, I raise the back of my hand and stroke her cheek. “What kind of life is worth living if my little bird isn't always inconveniencing me? I welcome the fucking distraction, baby.” Closing her eyes like a pet being rewarded for good behavior, she slips into my submissive.

“Will you bring whatever is in that bag into bed please, my keeper?” As she bats those long fucking lashes at me, I feel myself stiffening, but I silence that beast for now. Tonight is a night of bonding and connecting, building something more dangerous, destructive, and all encompassing.

“Anything, little one.” I move around the room and get her soup. “Sit up,” I say firmly, yet with a gentle caress. She follows suit and sits up straight, leaving room for me to climb behind her. Once I settle with my legs on either side of her, I wrap my free arm around her ribs, just under her breasts, and I pull her back to lean against my chest.

“Talk to me before I feed you,” I whisper into the shell of her ear, her honeysuckle and peppermint oils mingling and making me ravenous.

A brief pause passes, and then her soft voice fills the silence of the afternoon. “Have you felt loved, Xander?” Her question is not one I was expecting. My skin prickles as I think back to as far as my childhood, and a chill rumbles like thunder up my spine.

“No.” My parents never showed affection toward me or each other. I can count on one hand how many times they said ‘I love you’ to me. They died when I was just a teenager, and after that, I didn't fall in love; I fell in line. I went to a pristine college, met a pristine—or so I thought—woman, married her in a pristine church, and lived a life of forced ‘I love yous’ and infidelity.

“You never loved her?” She never says Jacqueline's name, refusing to give her any ties to me.

“No. I loved the idea of her, the status she could bring me. It’s all a part of the world I was exposed to, Lizith.” I dip the spoon into the still steaming soup and bring it slowly to her lips. “Blow.” She follows orders then opens up for me. Humming appreciation for the warm, potent taste.

“How do I fit into the lifestyle? Do I serve a purpose for you?”

I don’t know what to say, how to respond to feelings outside of sex, because that is not who I am. In a relationship where she wants to talk and where I badly want to give, it’s hard for me. It’s a foreign taste in my mouth. I wait a moment, using another spoonful of soup to suspend my time.

When we stay silent, she doesn't fill the void with words, but her actions try to exert influence. She gently rubs her hand in circles on my thigh. “Xander. I know I shouldn’t ask, but I really want you to tell me things. I want you to trust me beyond intimacy. I want you to tell me who you are.” Those words trespass beyond my walls of safeguarded secrets. Lizith is a siren, and she knows how to use it.

“You serve a purpose by adding value to my life. I am not a man of many words and hearts and flowers, but know that you are the most precious thing in my life. And I may not show you much past the touching and the possessive behavior I latch on to, but I value you beyond the life that I thought was meant for me. You broke through the barricade of darkness in me. You tapped into the cold parts of my heart, little bird, and it’s fucking me up.”

Before I can gain an ounce of control, she takes the soup from my hand and places it on the nightstand next to her bed. She moves to straddle me and, closing the space between us, we both breathe heavily, her shoulders lifted and her head slowly tilting from left to right as she inhales me, taking in my scent, and assesses my face. “Xander, how can I show you love? How can I make you feel it for the first time?” A little tear slips from those green eyes, and I just grip her tighter around the waist.

“In every fucking way only you can,” I growl, dropping my forehead to hers. “Every way. The crazy way, the way that will drive me up-the-wall insane. The kind that will test my patience, all while making me so fucking proud to call you mine. Obsess over me, breathe me in like oxygen. Let me in this body and do whatever I need to feel that love.” I bite her lip and she whimpers.

“Can I say it? Please?” she begs, wounded and pathetic and beautiful-sounding all at once.

“Those words are insignificant. They don't even touch the feelings I have for you.”

“Say it. Please, I need to hear it.”

“Why?”

She cries harder, and I love those tears. They fuel me on. I want her to beg.

“Because, Xander, I want to love you in all the ways they couldn’t. I want to hurt you in the ways you hurt me. You say it, and that means I have power over you, and that means you have power over me. It’s madness, my keeper.” She waits on the edge, her lips a whisper of a touch against mine. I smirk briefly then my lips fall straight. A pregnant pause later, and all the air in the room sucks dry and my words echo.

“I fucking love you.”

I hear those words echo in my mind, remembering the day I fell in love with Lizith, and that feeling is just as strong, if not stronger, and it’s choking me. I want to get to her, and as I sit at my desk, I see her email with all the documents and videos I needed. I grow impatient as I view them and find myself laughing sinisterly in my throat. I should be jealous, or at least have a bruised ego, but I don’t, because in just a few short hours, I will be Lizith’s for good and she will be fucking mine.

I respond to her email when I finish converting them.

Send me your address, and do not fucking test me tonight, Lizith. Be ready for me.

I wait a moment, taking a sip of my freshly poured scotch, the burn crisp in my throat. Within a minute, there is a response, and I smugly smile. She has been waiting like a good little submissive for me to respond.

Yes, my keeper. I’m sorry—so sorry, my love.

She leaves her address, and I see she is only a few blocks away from me. That bad girl just added another slap to her punishment. I go to exit my email, when another one from her pops up. I open it and eye over the typed black words, crisp, daunting, promising, and everything I have craved for the years I spent without hearing them.

I love you.

Without response, I stand and take my scotch and evidence to the living room. Setting up my vengeful homecoming for Jacqueline, I finish up and make quick work of prepping to leave. The entire time, I hear Lizith whispering “I love you” like she did every night after that first time.

“I’m coming home, little bird. I hope you're ready,” I murmur into the empty apartment, my bag packed and ready by the door.

Going to the living room, I wait for what feels like hours. Because I know the wealth waiting for me once I end this with Jacqueline.