Page 33 of Tyrant (The Villetti Chronicles)

Zayn’s eyes flicked over to Arlo, who I had all but forgotten was in the room.

“I’ll catch up with you later. I need to deal with this little issue… alone.”

“Yes, boss,” came Arlo’s response, followed by his retreating footsteps.

The front door slammed a minute later. I swallowed hard when Zayn met my eyes again.

“You’ve broken the rules, Tinkerbell.”

He didn’t move to touch me.

“If you aren’t on your knees in the next ten seconds, I’m going to have to increase your punishment tenfold and you’re already about to feel the effects of your disobedience quite severely. I doubt you want to add to it.”

I don’t know why I stayed where I was. Why I didn’t drop to the floor like he’d told me to. There were far more important things at stake than his rules and this fucked up game.

“I need to protect my father.”

“You need to do what you’re told.”

He was pissing me off now. I hated his rules. Hated how he wasn’t taking my concerns seriously.

“Or what? Huh? What the fuck would you do if I walked out and went to my dad?”

“You wouldn’t make it out the front door. I don’t allow my possessions to leave without permission. As for what I’m going to do now, well… it’s time you learnt a lesson.”

The very next thing I knew, I’d been shoved to the ground, landing hard on my knees. Zayn kept his hand on my shoulder, making me stay down.

“You will stay there unless you want me to treat you like a naughty little girl and spank you until you’re crying. That’s not really my thing, but if it’s what you desire, then I will.”

My cheeks burnt at the thought of him bending me over his knee and punishing me with his tattooed hand. A hand I preferred wrapped around my throat.

What the fuck? Where did that come from?

I didn’t have time to process it because Zayn straightened and walked around me. I turned my head to watch him approach his desk and pick up that fucking collar and leash from it. He hadn’t made me wear it since the club. I didn’t like how it made me feel about him. Right now, I wanted to hate everything the man represented. I wanted to, but I couldn’t… because a part of me wanted him to punish me.

He brought it over and held it out to me.

“Put it on.”

I took it from him, our fingers brushing together. The contact made my skin heat. Damn him for making me want this. Making me crave something I didn’t even understand.

I buckled the leather collar around my throat and handed him the leash.

“Take your clothes off.”

“What?”

“Did I not make myself clear?”

“Why do you—”

“They are a privilege you do not currently deserve.”

The very idea of him seeing me naked again had me wanting to hide. Being stared at by a man who claimed to have no sexual interest in you was unnerving. I didn’t believe him when he told me that for a second time. Not when I could feel the tension between us. It made the air thicken, and it grew harder to get oxygen into my lungs.

My shaky fingers rose to my top. Zayn released the leash so I could pull the top off my body without it getting tangled. He fisted it again the moment the fabric dropped to the floor. I heaved out a breath, fingers working the clasp of my bra. My skin rose up in goosebumps when it joined my top. I refused to look up at him. I didn’t want to see the emotionless expression he often wore staring down at me.

My jeans came next, followed by my socks and underwear. I knelt again and bowed my head, my hands fisted on my thighs to stop myself from doing something stupid.

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