Page 46 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
Chapter Eleven
As night falls, the kids stagger off to bed, exhausted. I tuck in Ainsley and press a kiss to her cheek while Daisy ignores me from the other end of the room. I let her sulk, preferring a tense truce over starting another war.
After checking on the boys, I finally steel myself to approach the master suite.
The sheer distance between it and the other rooms becomes apparent as it takes me a full minute to traverse it. The spaces are close enough that I would hear any bloodcurdling screams emanating from the kid’s rooms—but little else. And they, theoretically, wouldn’t hear anything in return. Like a cracking whip or a hiss of pain.
Or, more reassuringly, any brutal sex.
Inside the master bedroom, Maxim stands with his back to me and sheds his shirt, tossing it aside. “If you’ve changed your mind,” he begins in a hollow tone, “if you want to stay with your sister—”
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
Who cares if it’s a lie? We had a deal. But the weight of our trade-off truly sinks in the longer I watch him. He’s lost within his head again. Radiating tension, his muscles ripple and coil beneath his skin, threatening to rip from it.
Lucius’ wolf analogy returns to mind. A beast can only remain caged for so long—and that’s the word to describe how he looks now. Caged.
And I’m the bitch who twisted the key.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, advancing a cautious step. “I had no right to mention your past like that—”
“You are ready?” With those three words, he cuts me off, and his façade of control splinters. He gave me what I wanted—peace. And now I have to return the favor.
“I’m ready…”
“Come.” He crosses the room and opens the door. My breaths quicken as I approach him, my palms slick with sweat.
He looks so on edge. So fucking haunted.
As I near the threshold, I can’t resist touching his forearm. “What’s wrong—”
“No!” He wrenches beyond my reach and storms into the room. Deep down, I know the answer anyway. I brought up his past, ripping open old wounds he’ll never acknowledge out loud. “No talking. Not now. I just… I need—” He moves to one of the cabinets on the other end of the room and tugs open a drawer. From it, he withdraws a single, coiled strip of leather. My heart lurches as he unfurls it with a graceful flick of his wrist and then turns to face me. “Kneel.” When I don’t move, he exhales, practically swaying on his feet. Corded muscle flexes in his throat as he rasps a second time, “Kneel.”
It’s not fear that has me frozen. It’s shock. This is the closest I’ve ever seen him come to…begging. And I never want to see it again.
Relief escapes him in a harsh sigh as I sink to the floor, my head lowered in obedience.
His steps resonate like thunder as he approaches me, and here, in this new arena, the rules of the game change once again…
Entirely at his discretion.
* * *
A groan ripsfrom my lips as my eyelids part to a stream of blinding sunlight. It’s morning, but I doubt I’ve slept a full hour. Minutes, maybe?
Or seconds.
Revenge might be too petty a concept to apply to someone like Maxim. Perhaps retribution instead? Whether to exact payment for yesterday’s events, or out of anger for what I said, he kept me in the room until every inch of me throbbed in punishment…
I only remember snippets.The whip. His commands—kneel, kneel, kneel.I huddle beneath the sheets as one image remains in my skull no matter how hard I try to block it out—his face the few times he allowed me to glimpse it. I’ll never forget that expression. Cold. Icy. Detached. The only comparison that might come close to it is the day he took me into that dank room already lined with a tarp.
And yet…
I can’t escape the feeling that, this time, he held back. That’s the most alarming part of it all. Neither assault broke the skin. He didn’t fuck me either. Locked within himself, he merely raged, fighting against phantoms I couldn’t see.
And by the end, I realized…he was never angry with me.
Afterward, I vaguely remember him carrying me to the bed. However, his steps then retreated, alluding to a night spent wandering throughout the house. Even now, he’s not in the room.
