Cass's legs were trembling as she lowered herself into the sleek leather chair across from Uriel's desk, her body betraying the simmering emotions she was trying so hard to tamp down. She folded her hands in her lap, palms clammy as she forced herself to sit still, to maintain her composure under his intense gaze.
Uriel took his time, savoring another sip of his bourbon, eyes never leaving her as he walked to his desk casually leaned against the edge right in front of her. His position—half sitting, half standing—was deliberately casual and Cass was all too aware of the fact that her face was inches away from his crotch.
He set his glass down with a soft clink, the sound jarring in the otherwise quiet office. Then, he fixed his gaze on her, the sharpness in his single visible eye making her pulse race.
"So," he said, his voice smooth, velvety. "Are you finally ready to accept my proposal?"
Cass met his gaze, swallowing hard. "I have some questions first."
Uriel tilted his head slightly, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Questions? Fine. I'll indulge you. But let's keep this simple." He leaned in, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "You get three."
Cass's mouth went dry. She hadn't expected this—she wasn't sure what she expected actually—but his offer felt like a game. Unsurprising, Uriel liked games. He liked toying with people even when they weren't fully prepared to play— just like she was. Still, she had no choice but to engage.
Her mind raced, trying to organize her thoughts. Three questions. That wasn't nearly enough to unspool the mindfuck Uriel had left her in. He was offering her just enough rope to either save herself or hang herself, and she had to choose carefully.
"First," she began, steadying her voice, "would you really let the folks in Havenfield die if I refuse?"
Uriel's smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Ah, straight to the moral quandary, I see. You're worried about your precious town."
He pushed himself off the desk and began to pace slowly, his hands in his pockets as he circled her like a predator assessing its prey. His polished shoes made no sound on the plush carpet as he moved with deliberate grace.
"I've already called the mage about your little Vorvolak problem," Uriel said, his tone almost bored, as if the lives of hundreds were nothing more than a mild inconvenience to him. "So, no, Cassandra, I wouldn't let Havenfield die." He glanced at her, his gaze piercing. "If you choose not to be mine, the mage will still help."
Cass blinked, the shock settling in. She hadn't expected that. His calm admission threw her off balance.
"So, this whole thing—" she paused, trying to keep her voice steady "—this whole blackmail thing, the whole 'be my submissive or your town burns'... that was just some sort of game to you?"
Uriel's eyes darkened at the insinuation, his smirk dropping for a brief moment, replaced by something harder, more dangerous. He stopped his pacing, standing just inches from her chair, towering over her.
"Game?" he echoed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Do you think I need to coerce anyone into bed, Malen'kiy volk?"
Cass's heart pounded in her chest, her throat tightening as the intensity in his voice held her captive. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.
Uriel moved closer, bending slightly, his presence overwhelming as he hovered just above her. His lips curled again into a predatory smile. "If I wanted you on your knees, you'd be there without any threats."
"I'm still sitting, aren't I?" Cass snapped back thoughtlessly. Foolishly.
Uriel hummed amusedly. "That was a piss poor rebuttal but I appreciate the attempt to defy me," he said. "Either way, I don't need to blackmail anyone, Cassandra. Least of all you."
The room felt stifling, his proximity making it impossible for her to breathe properly. She couldn't look away from him, couldn't tear her gaze from the heat in his eyes, the way he stared at her like he was already in control, whether she admitted it or not.
"What was it about, then?" she demanded, her voice a little too sharp, her nerves fraying. "If that wasn't your intention, then what was all that about?"
Uriel's smile returned, slower this time, as if savoring the moment. He straightened, casually slipping his hands back into his pockets as he leaned back against the desk again, his eyes locked on hers.
"It was about planting the idea in your head," he said, his voice low and rich. "Putting the thought of me, of us, in your mind. Now that it's there, Malen'kiy volk, you won't be able to shake it. You'll crave it. Crave me." His words dripped with conviction, like he already knew her answer. Like he knew her better than she knew herself.
Her breath hitched. Damn him.
Uriel's gaze flickered down, tracing the line of her body for a moment before settling back on her face. "You've already imagined it, haven't you?" His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "You've already thought about what my cock would feel like buried in your tight pizda."
The word, raw and harsh, sent a jolt through her. She didn't need a translation. His meaning was all too clear.
Focus. She needed to regain control of this conversation before she lost it completely.
Her second question rose to her lips, a much-needed distraction from the fire building in her core.
"Are you the true leader of Chërnaya Gidra?" she asked, her voice rough, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.
Uriel didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze slid away, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back slightly, his demeanor shifting just enough to suggest he enjoyed the ambiguity.
He turned his head back to her, locking eyes, and said nothing. The silence stretched, heavy and loaded with all the things he wasn't saying.
"Would it matter if I were?" he finally asked, his voice calm, but with an undercurrent of power.
Cass's frustration grew. "It would matter to me."
Uriel smirked, and that alone was enough to let her know she wouldn't be getting a direct answer. His ambiguity only confirmed what she suspected. He was the leader—whether he wanted to admit it or not.
But then again, who else could orchestrate something so vast, so untouchable, without ever being caught? Who else would be able to keep the hydra's heads regenerating, one after another, with such ease?
Cass exhaled, knowing there was no point in pushing further. If he didn't want to tell her, he wouldn't. He didn't need to. She wasn't even Russian, had never been to Europe, but knowing the crimes Chërnaya Gidra committed on a daily, knowing what the Bravta did with their power, Cass could only feel ashamed at the fact that she was a police officer and all she could do was sit in Uriel's office and melt under his gaze.
For a fleeting moment, Cass's mind screamed at her to get up. To leave. This was insane—she wasn't this person, wasn't the kind of woman who would consider giving in to a man like him. And yet, despite the alarm bells going off in her head, her body wouldn't move. It was as if her muscles had forgotten how to obey her own commands.
So, she moved on, her third question heavy on her mind, the one she dreaded asking. But she needed to know.
Her voice wavered only slightly when she spoke. "What does it... entail? To be your submissive?"
Uriel's smile deepened, and he took his time answering. He shifted slightly, standing upright, then moving toward her again with slow, deliberate steps. Each one felt like a heartbeat, echoing in her chest.
He stopped just in front of her, so close that the heat radiating off his body seemed to seep into her skin. He leaned down, his voice low and sensual as he spoke, each word dripping with promise.
"It means," he began, his lips curving into a wicked smile, "that you'll be mine. Completely."
Cass's breath caught in her throat, heat pooled low in her belly, her thighs tightening involuntarily at the raw command in his hypnotic voice as he continued.
"I'll have absolute control over you. Over your pain, your pleasure. It means you'll place your trust in me to take care of you, to give you what you need."
His gaze darkened as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her ear. "It means you don't have to touch yourself anymore, Malen'kiy volk." He smiled knowingly, his voice a husky whisper. "I can smell how badly you've been wanting it. How badly you've been wanting me."
Cass's face burned, the heat between her legs intensifying with every word he spoke. She could feel the thud of her heartbeat in her throat, each breath more shallow than the last. Her fingers tightened around the armrest of the chair, trying to anchor herself as her body betrayed the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.
But she dared not speak, dared not interrupt.
"It means," Uriel continued, his voice still low, intimate, "that when I say kneel, you'll kneel. When I say come, you'll follow like a good little Pup." His lips grazed the shell of her ear, making her shiver.
"And when I bring you to climax," he added, his voice a sensual growl, "you'll scream 'Thank you, Master,' loud enough for the entire city to hear."
Cass's entire body felt like it was on fire, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as his words settled deep in her core.
He straightened, taking a step back to give her space to process what he'd just said, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched her struggle to regain control.
"We will negotiate limits, of course," he added, his voice more businesslike now, but still laced with that underlying dominance. "I won't do anything you're uncomfortable with. But for the most part..." He smirked, his gaze locking with hers. "You'll be mine. And mine alone."
The air in the room felt thick, suffocating, as Cass sat frozen in her chair, her heart pounding in her ears. She tried to think, tried to process what Uriel had just laid out in front of her, but it was all too much. The heat of his words, the raw intensity of his presence, the way he seemed so utterly convinced that she would give in…
It was suffocating.
When she finally spoke, her voice was tight. Low. "Is that what you want? A pet to order around?"
"No," he replied, his voice measured with a slight edge of sincerity. "I want something far more valuable. I want you to trust me with your body. I want you to give yourself to me not because I demand it, but because you choose to."
His voice lowered, almost reverent as he spoke, "Submission isn't about being weak, Cassandra. I know that's what you think, I know that's why you shy away from it even when we both know it's something you want. It's about being strong enough to let someone else carry the weight for you. Letting go isn't surrender—it's trusting someone to hold you when you fall."
He straightened slightly, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart stutter. "When you submit to me, you're not giving up control. You're sharing it. You're choosing to let me guide your pleasure, to protect your body, to take care of you. And in return, you will never be more cared for. You'll never feel more free." He picked up his glass again and took another sip of bourbon, Cass watched transfixed as his Adam's apple bobbed with the liquor. "You're stronger than you know, Malen'kiy volk. But we both know there's a part of you that's dying to be tamed."
Her heart pounded in her chest, her pulse thudding in her throat as she fought to steady her breathing. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to run, to get the hell out of there before she did something she couldn't take back.
But another part of her, the part she'd buried deep for so long, was screaming something else. It told her to stay, to kneel, to submit.
It was that primal urge, that deep-rooted need to belong to someone, to let go of the weight she'd carried for so long and trust someone else to take care of her. It was the part of her she had spent years running from, the part of her that terrified her because it reminded her of everything she had fought to escape.
But Uriel wasn't like any other rogue werewolf she had a one night stand with. He wasn't another eager human and he wasn't like the members of her former pack. He wasn't some brutish alpha demanding submission out of a need for control. He didn't need to demand anything because he already had power—true power. He didn't need her submission to feel strong. He wanted it because he saw something in her, something she couldn't even admit to herself.
And that was what scared her the most.
Uriel arched a brow at her, his expression still casual, but there was a flicker of something darker, something more dangerous, in his eyes. He knew she was on the edge. He could see it. Feel it. He was waiting for her to tip over.
"So, what do you say, Cassandra?" His voice was soft but commanding, dripping with sensual authority. "Are you ready to be owned?"
Cass's throat tightened. She could barely breathe, let alone form words. Every fiber of her being was on fire, her mind a whirlwind of confusion, desire, and fear. She wasn't ready. She didn't think she was ready.
But the thought of walking away now felt like stepping off a cliff.
Her heart thundered in her chest, her hands gripping the armrests of the chair so hard her knuckles went white. The weight of his gaze bore down on her, his presence so overwhelming it made her knees weak even though she was sitting.
And then, for just a second, she imagined it—imagined what it would feel like to let go. To stop fighting. To let him take control, to let him guide her through the storm.
What would it feel like to be his?
She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I... I don't know."
Uriel's smirk deepened, his eye glinting with satisfaction. He knew he had her. She wasn't saying no.
"You don't need to know, Malen'kiy volk," he said softly, his voice soothing yet commanding. "All you need to do is trust me."
Her heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickening as his words washed over her. Trust. That was the thing, wasn't it? Could she really trust him? Him— the vampire that had cornered her in the street and threatened to reveal her most kept secret. Him— the same asshole who took great satisfaction from grinding at her gears. Him— the protagonist of her wet dreams.
Could she even trust herself?
Could she trust her instincts, the ones she had been running from all her life?
She exhaled shakily, her mind still spinning, her body aching with a desire she couldn't deny. Uriel didn't push. He didn't need to. He had planted the seed, and now he was just waiting for it to grow.
Cass closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself, to quiet the storm in her mind. But when she opened them again, Uriel was still there, still watching her with that same confident, knowing smile.
And she knew—damn him, she knew—that he was right.
She was already his.