Page 298 of Redeemed

Each other.

Everything.

And Haven… Haven is trapped in a guarded cage that we can’t penetrate. At least for tonight, we’re undeniably powerless.

“We’ll get her out,” I say firmly. “I don’t know how, but we’re not leaving her in there. I don’t care if we have to build an entire army to get her out. We’re not abandoning her.”

“It’s still… it’s still not…” He shakes his head, and when I try to pull him in for a hug, he jumps back. “No! No. That doesn’t matter. We failed her, Xan. Can’t you see that? We fucking failed her.”

“I know.”

Lucas falls to his knees in front of me. “Everything hurts, Xander. I can’t go back to feeling like this.”

“Hey.” I tip his chin up. “You don’t have to go back there. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“They’re going to hurther.And that’s not how it’s supposed to go.I’msupposed to be the one who gets hurt. I…” Tears fill his eyes, and he pulls his face away from me so he can look down. “God, Xan, I can’t take this.”

The absolute despair in his voice knocks the air from my lungs. When we were younger, Lucas had too much on his shoulders. Trying to shield Aurora from their dad, taking the brunt of his abuse, and later on, not knowing if their mom would be able to keep a roof over their heads.

It all sent Lucas to a dark place—one I wasn’t sure I could pull him out of. Even now, it feels like a miracle that he’s kneeling before me. That I didn’t lose him years ago.

Crouching in front of him, I place a lingering kiss on his forehead. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to replace the pain. Xan, please. I need you to.”

“Tonight?”

“Please,” he begs hoarsely. “Please hurt me.”

I stare down at him, my best friend who turned into my forever as we grew up. How can I deny him? How can I do anything but try to help relieve the ache in his chest that Iknowis unbearable because I can feel it, too?

“All right.” My fingers run through his hair, down his arms, up his back. “Where? The basement? Or—”

“Up here. Downstairs is too big. Too open.”

That’s what I figured he’d say. Lucas has always liked smaller spaces. If it’s too large, it’s harder for him to watch his back. Not that he needs to when he’s with me, but it’s been ingrained into him since he was little.

To him, small is always the safer option.

“Up,” I say softly.

We both stand, and Lucas’s head falls to my shoulder. He lets out a single sob, gives himself a brief moment to clutch at my shirt, and then he pulls himself together.

“Strip, and then bend over the desk,” I tell him.

As he does, I reach into my dresser and pull out a belt. I fold it a few times so I have better control and step up to him. “Don’t move.”

The first time the leather hits his ass, Lucas’s shoulders tense. The second time, he hisses in pain. I could go easy on him—warm him up to it—but that’s not what he needs. It’s not what I need, either.

I keep my rhythm predictable and steady. This isn’t about playing games with Luc’s mind, it’s about getting it to shut off. With every slap of leather against skin, I watch his ass turn red.

My frustration bleeds out of me with each strike. Seeing it mark Lucas’s body satiates something inside me that needed to be fed. It’s something I’ve always controlled, and I am even now, but it’s been hungry for this. Still, when I approach the point where I’m about to make Lucas bleed, I stop.

The dark, monstrous side of me that yearns for blood and death is just as much a part of me as any other. My passion for music, my need for control, the way I turn obsessive at the drop of a hat. But there are lines I won’t cross, especially with Lucas. I’ve broken his skin before, but it’s always been with a knife, not from impact play. It’s new territory, and while it’s something I know he wants right now, we’ve never discussed this before.

Lucas glances over his shoulder at me. “Why did you stop?”

“I’m pretty sure if I hit you a few more times, you’re going to start bleeding.”

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