Page 37 of Deviant

This was worse.

I’d not only gone against his decision, but I’d gone to my dad on my own. To a man who might have murdered my mom just to shut her up. Confronting my dad had been risky, no doubt about it, but I’d really put the nails in my coffin by going without the protection Rafe insisted on. No, without the protection hedemanded. Or else.

This was theor else.

I chose the corner to the right of the window I’d broken my first night back. Rafe had boarded up the jagged hole with a thick piece of cardboard. I wondered if he could board up the jagged holes in my heart so easily. I was dubious as I approached my chosen corner, shedding my clothes as I went, because getting naked could only help my case. I dropped to my knees, hands clasped at my back, forehead in the tight space where the walls connected.

And I waited.

17. Bad Pain - Rafe

I was too aware of the weight of my belt around my waist; thick, wide leather that would leave welts if I swung hard enough.

Fuck, I was tempted to.

But that was the anger talking because I rarely drew blood. Not purposefully. Certainly not born of the type of rage invading my system now. Alex needed punishment—a harsh lesson to reshape her behavior. She didn’t need my sick tendencies driving the act.

Fucking her would be reward enough for me. Hearing her beg to come would be enough. The ginger would be enough.

I had a large root with her name on it, just waiting for me to decide how big a piece she deserved before I carved the perfect shape to lodge into her ass. The idea of beating her ass first, then leaving her bent over the bed to watch me carve the ginger made me harder than fuck. The pain from the whipping would drive her insane as she waited for the burn she despised.

Oh hell.

The smile curving my mouth wasn’t good. This was supposed to be about punishment. About driving home the fact that shecouldn’tjust take off and put herself in danger whenever she fucking felt like it. Her fuck-up had gone way beyond mutilating her skin, or mouthing off, or disobeying some rule. She’d put herself at risk.Again.

Damn straight the punishment would be severe.

I filled a bowl with cold water, grabbed the ginger, and strode toward the hall, exhaling the most dangerous of my anger as I went, but Angel’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Don’t h-hurt her.”

The girl looked terrified. I gave Jax a meaningful glance. “You better take her for a long walk. We’re gonna be at least two hours.”

He nodded, understanding what I was getting at. Angel did too, because she cried in protest, begging me not to hurt Alex as he ushered her outside. But what she didn’t understand was that Alex needed the lesson.

She needed the fucking pain.

I’d reneged on doling out appropriate discipline a few weeks ago on her birthday, shortly after we’d set up camp. I hadn’t had the heart to punish her on such a special day, so I’d given her a verbal lashing and a pass on the physical punishment.

After all, her fingernails had barely left a mark on her skin—not deep enough to draw blood.

A few days later, I regretted it, because she’d gone apeshit with the sharp end of a roasting stick on her arm, leaving a nasty gouge. A nightmare had probably triggered the incident, and that had been my second mistake.

Instead of forcing her to talk, I’d waited for her to come to me.

In the end, the wound healed, but apparently my belt hadn’t done its job, and neither had her imprisonment in the bedroom these past few days, ankle shackle keeping her safe; if it had, she wouldn’t have eventhoughtof going to her father without me.

I would not…couldnot go easy on her again. This time, I’d have to go beyond the physical.

As I headed into the bedroom, the realization cracked me in two, threatening to dent the shell I’d built around my heart all day as I agonized over her safe return.

My first glance at her in the corner, naked and on her knees with her hands together at her back, only armed me with more ammunition. She was so fucking prim in this moment. Demurely submissive. Too damn obedient. Alex knew exactly what she was doing. Everything about her body language spoke of repentance, but underneath the perfected pose, did she really feel remorse? Or was she playing me like only she could—appealing to the softer side of myself?

The man with a fucking conscience, with a healthy sense ofsocially acceptableversussocially fucked.

Alex was not this submissive doormat in front of me. Fuck no. She was the spitfire that fought me every step of the way. The strong woman who flipped the bird at me and anything else standing between her and what she wanted.

That type of behavior was how she’d ended up in that corner, telling a lie with the language of her body. Deceit stormed through her veins.

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