Bound to Four

Jealous Games

The chime rang, a crystalline note that ricocheted off cold stone and steel. Bright. Cheerful. Cruel.

TONIGHT’S GAME…

Liora froze. The bond flickered, unease, anticipation, something darker pulsing beneath.

BLIND BRIDE BLUFF

Rook swore under his breath.

WINNER IS: MOST STOLEN KISSES…

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

AND SHARES HER BED TONIGHT

The air in the chamber seemed to tighten around her: marble floors veined with gold filaments, hidden cameras glinting like watchful eyes. Crimson satin of her studio- provided dress clung to her skin, the delicate fabric stretched taut across her chest and cinched mercilessly at her waist, already threatening to be torn away by greedy hands or careless movements in this game of calculated exposure.

“No,” scraped from her throat, barely a whisper, her lips trembling with the effort of even that small defiance as her fingers curled into helpless fists at her sides.

The bond roared: jealousy, possession, a storm waiting to break. She didn’t fight it. Instead, she stepped into the front room, into the harsh glow of spotlights, into their expectant stares. A black silk blindfold lay on a pedestal, its silver-trimmed edges beckoning.

She lifted it. “Do it.”

Cassian glided forward and slipped the cloth over her eyes. Darkness swallowed her.

Silence, then the whisper of movement. Fingers brushed her arm, ghost-light and gone. A kiss landed on her cheek, vanished before she could turn.

Her heart pounded. She reached blindly. Touching nothing.

A breath, warm and deliberate, caressed her nape. Another kiss, soft as dusk. She spun, too late.

A hand caught her wrist, fingers gentle, and teasing. Lips brushed against her wrist, barely there, then gone, leaving her skin tingling in their wake.

Something settled between them through the bond, a warm current anchoring her in the darkness when everything else felt adrift, his presence remained steady. She reached out, finding the firm slope where his neck met his shoulder, and she gripped it like a lifeline.

“Thalen?”

“OUT,” commanded the disembodied voice.

He remained, leaning close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. His lips brushed her jaw, one kiss against the hollow beneath her ear, then another at the corner of her mouth, each touch measured, each touch deliberate as if he were writing their story on her skin. Her breath hitched in her throat, catching on his name.

“Thalen...” she murmured, the word half-plea, half-surrender.

He claimed her mouth, slow as the tide in summer, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips before deepening at will. No theft, no games in this. Only raw honesty. Need threaded through every press and retreat, every gentle scrape of teeth. The bond between them flared like struck flint, sparking white-hot in the darkness behind her blindfold.

Through the bond came Rook’s warning growl, vibrating low in her chest like a second heartbeat. Beside her, Kael’s body rippled with the magic scales barely contained under his skin, his breathing shallow and dangerous in the charged air between them.

The studio’s artificial voice sliced through the tension, cold and final:

WINNER.

With gentle fingers, Thalen removed her blindfold. The room’s harsh light assaulted her vision. His body radiated warmth mere inches from hers, while behind him stood the others, Rook grinding his teeth until his jaw bulged, Kael’s knuckles bleached white against his skin, and Cassian watching with the cold assessment of a chess master contemplating his next move.

The chime cut through the tension.

BEDTIME.

Silence swallowed them. Thalen slid an arm around Liora’s waist and led her down a short corridor. A soft click sealed the door behind them.

Inside, an amber lamplight danced on plush rugs and bronze sconces. The bed was draped in heavy damask; satin pillows lay in inviting heaps. The air smelled of lavender and pine.

Thalen turned to her, voice huskier than before. “Trust me.”

Her dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. He guided her face down across cool linen. A bowl of warmed oil steamed on the bedside table.

He poured oil into his palms, warming it with gentle friction, then placed his hands on her back. The first strokes were exploratory, fingers tracing the gentle curve of her spine, the ridges of her shoulder blades. Oil spread warm and slick.

Her muscles relaxed beneath his touch. He leaned close, his breath warm against her ear.

“Pay attention,” he whispered against her skin. “The cameras can’t see here.”

Lines and patterns emerged under his touch, delicate arcs around her shoulders, sharp angles along her ribs, rhythmic loops at the swell of her hips. Again and again, mapping every contour. Each point marked by a soft kiss to her skin.

“Here,” he whispered against her shoulder blade. His lips found another spot near her ribs. “And here.”

Her breath caught in her throat as understanding dawned. The bond between them vibrated with silent communication while her mind traced invisible lines across her skin, committing to memory each sanctuary from watchful lenses.

Her heart hammered against her chest.

In the guise of passion, he’d mapped their salvation, every blind spot in their gilded cage.

His movements ceased. Palms lifted from her skin, taking with them the ghostly imprint of their secret cartography. When they returned, they moved with new intent, languid, purposeful, igniting embers beneath her skin while maintaining perfect restraint.

The bond between them kindled with warmth. A distant crash echoed, Rook’s voice, jagged with fury. The splintering sound of Kael striking something solid reverberated through the walls.

Liora measured each inhale, each exhale. Memorize. Perform. The connection between them calmed to stillness, like water sheltered from a storm.

As Thalen moved away, Liora melted into the sheets, her body hollow and floating. The mattress dipped as he settled beside her, one arm draped protectively across her middle. His lips brushed her temple, barely there.

“When you’re ready,” he murmured against her skin.

Sleep pulled her under like a tide.

The first light of dawn filtered through her consciousness along with the sensation of lips tracing her collarbone, teeth grazing the tender junction of neck and shoulder. Heat sparked beneath her skin at each point of contact.

“Time to rejoin the living,” he murmured against her ear.

A liquid warmth spread through her limbs. When she tried to face him, his embrace tightened, keeping her back pressed to his chest as he captured her mouth from behind, the kiss deep and unhurried until her thoughts scattered like mist.

His teeth caught her earlobe, but his whisper held no warmth. “They made Rook and Kael suffer for their outburst.”

The languid pleasure in her body evaporated like morning dew under harsh sun.

“They refused Cassian’s directives,” Thalen murmured against her skin. “Only you can bring them back to center now.”

Their freedom was only an illusion. Puppeteers still pulled their strings.

The final chime cut the air like a blade.

SHOWER PARTNER SELECTION. 10 SECONDS.

Thalen’s breath warmed her skin as he whispered against her shoulder. “Dragon or wolf.”

Through the bond came a sudden, knife-sharp agony. Whatever they’d done to the others had already started.

Everything narrowed to a razor’s edge of understanding. Her body moved before thought could catch up, lungs seizing, pulse thundering in her ears as she launched herself from the tangled sheets.

No one else could end their suffering.