Cass lingered in the break room of the precinct, staring at the papers Jamee had asked for as the photocopier hummed softly. She'd already made several copies, but her mind was elsewhere, and the slow process seemed like a perfect reflection of her current mood—stuck in a limbo of half-made decisions.
The room smelled of old coffee and stale sandwiches, the kind of scent that clung to the place no matter how many air fresheners someone slapped on the walls. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly. Just familiar.
As the machine spit out another set of papers, Cass heard footsteps behind her. Heavy, deliberate. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"What's the matter with ya, Cass?" Chief Laughlin's voice was low, laced with a concerned drawl, his southern twang lingering on the syllables. "You've been... off. More than usual, I mean."
Cass straightened her back and kept her eyes on the papers in front of her. "Whatever could you mean, Chief?"
Avoiding his gaze, she shifted the last batch into the machine. The monotonous click of the copier filled the space between them.
"C'mon, now," Laughlin sighed. "I've seen you handle more cases than I care to count, and you ain't never looked so... outta sorts. You're distant. Closed off." He tilted his head, the way he always did when he was sizing someone up. "This case got you spooked?"
Cass felt the tension in her shoulders coil tighter. She thought about giving him the same deflection, the same rehearsed response that had gotten her through the past few days; 'I'm just tired.' 'It's been busy.' But Laughlin wasn't stupid, and he'd been in the game too long to let things slide without getting some kind of answer.
"I've had a lot on my mind," she said finally, her voice tight. "This case isn't exactly like tracking down Jimmy Baxter after he shoplifted a couple beers from the local mart."
Laughlin gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Ain't that the truth."
The last of the papers slid into the tray, and Cass gathered them up. She tried to move past him, but he stepped into her path, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her face.
"You're worried," he said. "And that ain't normal for you. You usually look so damn sure of yourself." He hesitated, the weight of concern heavy in his voice. "Now you just look... afraid."
Cass swallowed, biting back the urge to tell him exactly why she was on edge. How could she explain it to him? How could she even begin to describe the kind of fear that crawled under her skin, a fear that wasn't only tied to the murders the Vorvolak could commit? How could she even begin to explain that Havenfield had been corrupted by a supernatural being far beyond all their pay grades?
"I'm handling it," she said instead, her voice clipped. "It's work. That's all."
He didn't seem convinced, but he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Just... take care of yourself, alright? Can't work well if you're running yourself into the ground."
She nodded quickly, feeling the conversation straining her composure. "I will. I need to get these papers looked over."
Before he could push further, she slipped past him, her steps quick as she made her way out of the break room. His words followed her, lingering like a cloud of smoke she couldn't shake.
☼
The ride to The Sleepy Tin Motel was short but felt drawn out by the weight of her thoughts. Cass drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping absently against the manila envelope on the passenger seat. Laughlin's concern still echoed in her mind, but she pushed it aside, forcing herself to focus.
When she pulled into the gravel lot of the motel, she spotted Jamee crouched beside his motorcycle, his back turned as he fiddled with something near the engine. He was out of his cassock now, dressed only in worn jeans and a white tank top that clung to his muscled torso. Tattoos sprawled across his back and arms—intricate, winding images of angels and demons locked in what looked like an eternal battle.
Cass couldn't help but let her eyes trace the ink running up his arms, disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt. She caught glimpses of angel wings and twisted vines before Jamee shifted and looked up at her, offering a warm smile.
"Detective Pratt," he greeted, his voice soft as he stood. "I was just changing the oil. How'd everything go?"
"Just Cass is fine," She corrected and held up the envelope, her expression neutral. "Got the papers you needed."
Jamee wiped his hands on a rag and reached for the envelope. "Thanks. Just let me finish up here and get dressed, and we can head out."
Cass blinked. "Head out?"
He smiled, eyes glinting with something playful. "I need to get to the highest point in town to perform the attunement spell. Didn't I mention that?"
She frowned, racking her brain. "No, you didn't. But the highest point would be Ashridge Hill. It's on the west side, overlooking the highway. Teenagers like to go up there in the summer. A makeshift 'makeout spot,' I guess."
Jamee chuckled, tucking the envelope under his arm. "Sounds perfect. Let me get my stuff."
Cass pinched her coat closer together and waited while he disappeared into his motel room. He returned a few minutes later in his full cassock, backpack slung over his shoulder, and two helmets in his hands. One was the sleek matte black helmet he'd rode into town with; the other was shiny blue with little rubber ducks splashed across it.
Her eyebrow shot up. "Seriously?"
Jamee gave an awkward shrug, his cheeks flushing a little. "It was the only one they had at the store."
She snorted, taking the duck-patterned helmet. "Fine."
Jamee put on his helmet first, his rings glinting under the afternoon sun as he adjusted it. Cass followed suit, trying not to think about how embarrassing it would be to be caught by her colleagues in the helmet.
He mounted the bike and Cass climbed on behind him, gingerly placing her hands on her thighs as the engine rumbled to life beneath them. Her body tensed at the vibration, unsure of where to place herself.
"You might want to hold on to me," Jamee called over the engine's growl, glancing back at her. "I ride fast."
Cass narrowed her eyes. "Over the speed limit fast?"
Jamee laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "You'll see, Officer."
The way he said it, unlike Uriel's mocking 'Ofitser,' made her smirk. Jamee wasn't laughing at her—he was laughing with her. The difference was... disarming.
When the bike jerked into gear, Cass had no choice but to wrap her arms around his torso, holding on tightly as they shot down the road. She could feel the heat of his body through his clothes, the flex of his muscles as he controlled the bike. It wasn't long before her nerves melted into something else, something calmer. Havenfield rushed past them in a blur and Cass exhaled peacefully. Jamee didn't make her feel like she had to be on edge all the time. It was easy being with him, even in the rush of speed.
They weaved through the town's back roads, and the cold air nipped at her face as she called out directions to Ashridge Hill. When they finally arrived at the base, the ride smoothed out, and Jamee parked the bike beside an old tree. Cass climbed off, her legs unsteady from the adrenaline.
"The summit is up ahead," she said above the ringing in her ears.
His response was immediate, "Lead the way."
Cass began the short hike up the hill, her boots crunching softly over the blanket of yellow and orange leaves that covered the forest floor. The trees stretched tall and thin around them, their bare branches reaching skyward like skeletal hands. She could hear the soft padding of Jamee's footsteps behind her, the rhythmic sound of his shoes brushing against the undergrowth in perfect harmony with her own. Neither of them spoke as they ascended the narrow path, the air thick with the crisp scent of damp earth and dying leaves. The quiet wasn't awkward; in fact, it was almost peaceful. A welcome change from the weight of the unsolved murders, Uriel's whispering in her ear and the constant worry gnawing at her.
For the first time in what felt like days, she didn't feel the tight coil of anxiety in her chest. Jamee's presence, steady and calm, was a reminder that she wasn't facing the darkness alone anymore. Someone was here who could actually do something about the Vorvolak, someone who understood what they were up against. She felt... safer.
But that was only one problem half solved. Cass's thoughts drifted back to Uriel. Her decision to give herself to him, to agree to be his submissive, despite knowing a mage— Jamee— was on his way to help. At first, it had been about the town; going to his office, sitting in his presence while he'd stared her down— she'd done it for Havenfield. But the town was secure the moment Uriel said the mage was already on his way. She didn't know if Jamee was being paid to be here but she knew he wasn't the kind to up and leave without doing anything about the Vorvolak. She could tell by the way he cut his palm without hesitation to make a barrier out of his own blood.
She could have walked out of Uriel's office, yet still, she whispered that 'yes.' Even with the Vorvolak threat, she'd made her choice, and it gnawed at her now, the way she had willingly stepped into Uriel's world.
The path sloped upward, and Cass found herself gripping a low-hanging branch to steady herself as she continued, trying to quiet her thoughts. The woods were peaceful, but inside, her mind was anything but.
By the time they got to the summit, the sun looked sleepy, beginning its slow descent across the sky. Jamee walked past her, looking over the metal railing that ran along the edge of the hill.
He whistled appreciatively. "What a view," he said. "I can see why teenagers would come here to make out."
Cass scoffed. "Well, don't get any bright ideas."
He chuckled, slinging his backpack off his shoulders and zipping it open. Cass watched as he pulled out a bottle of red wine, a pack of candles, and a roll of twine. The 'ingredients,' he'd mentioned earlier.
She remained quiet as he set to work at the base of a tree, arranging the twelve candles in a circle, looping the twine between them in an intricate pattern of overlapping squares and circles. He poured some wine into a small metal dish, placing it in the center before standing back, surveying his setup with quiet concentration.
"There a chance we'll be interrupted?" Jamee asked, glancing toward the tree line.
Cass shook her head. "Doubt it. The place is only popular in the summer, and with the murders, people are too scared to come out here."
Jamee gave a small nod and turned his attention back to the candles. He pushed his blonde hair out of his face and stood over the arrangement, taking a deep breath before stretching his hands out. His eyes fluttered shut, and he began to chant, low and rhythmic. The wind seemed to pick up in response, blowing stronger as his voice carried over the hill. The candles ignited deep blue flames and the twine began to glow a faint purple.
Cass watched, transfixed as his words seemed to weave through the air, wrapping around her like invisible threads. This was the second time she was seeing magic being performed but she had a feeling she could see it a thousand times and never shake off the mix of awe and reverence stirring in her. There was something so ancient about it, something raw, as though Jamee were tapping into the very fabric of the world itself.
As Jamee finished his chant, the air thickened around them, like the woods themselves were holding their breath. Cass swore she felt something stir in the distance, too faint to pinpoint, but there. Watching. Waiting.
The moment he ceased speaking, the tension from the ritual released with a soft sigh and the forest breathed again.
"Has anyone ever told you you're magic?" Cass said without thinking.
Jamee turned to her with a smile, his eyes crinkling with the warmth of his expression. "Once or twice," he said, revealing a dimple in his left cheek.
She glanced over to the ring of blue flames. "Is that a fire hazard?"
His dimple seemed to deepen as he lost a battle against another smile. "No, Cassandra. It's magic."
Cass took one last glance at it and shrugged. If he started a forest fire, she wouldn't hesitate to arrest his ass.
Jamee picked up the bottle of wine he'd used for the ritual and padded over to the railing again. Cass followed, standing side by side at the edge of the hill. The view below stretched out for miles—rolling woods, the dim highway snaking through the trees, and the quiet stillness of Havenfield nestled in the distance.
They stood in silence, taking in the view, before Jamee finally said, "Do you have to head back to work?"
Cass shook her head. Her job was to investigate the Havenfield murders which in turn meant investigating the Vorvolak. She'd leave the other officers to deal with the town pickpockets and vandals.
Jamee uncorked the wine bottle. "Well," he said, turning to her with a half-smile, "since I'm done for the day and you're off work, what do you say we polish this off?"
Cass raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bottle. "Aren't you a priest?"
He laughed softly, handing her the bottle. "I'm also human."
Cass took it from him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Fair enough."
They leaned against the railing, the rough bark of the trees framing their view as they passed the bottle back and forth. The wine was warm and sweet, the kind that left a soft burn at the back of her throat. It wasn't long before she felt the warmth spreading through her chest, relaxing her muscles as she took another swig.
"How'd you meet Uriel?" Jamee asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity.
Cass groaned, the sound half-muffled as she lowered the bottle from her lips. "Under unfortunate circumstances," she muttered. "You?"
Jamee smiled wryly, taking the bottle back from her. "Same."
Cass didn't push him further, sensing a story there that he wasn't ready to tell. Instead, she glanced out at the highway, her eyes following the headlights of a lone car speeding toward town. The silence stretched between them, comfortable and unhurried. For the first time in what felt like days, she didn't feel like she had to be on guard.
But Jamee broke the silence after a moment, his voice soft and thoughtful. "Your dynamic with him… it's complicated."
Cass turned to look at him, brow furrowed. "You haven't really seen us interact."
He shrugged, passing her the bottle again. "Maybe not. But I can sense there's… something heavy between you two."
She snorted softly, tipping the bottle to her lips again. "How? With magic?"
He chuckled. "Call it a holy man's intuition."
Cass rolled her eyes but figured there was no harm in challenging him. "Okay, holy man. What do you sense?"
Jamee's gaze was steady, his blue eyes kind but concerned. "He gets under your skin, doesn't he? But there's something about him… something that awakens a part of you. I wonder, though—does that make you feel stronger, or does it drain you?"
Cass stiffened, the wine suddenly burning a little too sharply as she swallowed. "What are you getting at?"
He tilted his head, his smile softening into something more serious. "Maybe it's not about whether he brings you peace," he murmured. "Maybe it's about whether he disrupts your own peace."
Cass's mind drifted, his words settling over her like a cold, unwelcome blanket. Uriel didn't make her feel at peace—not in the way Jamee seemed to—but there was something about him that made her feel… alive. Awake. Like a live wire waiting to be sparked. She hated it, and yet she craved it in ways she didn't fully understand.
"Uriel doesn't make me feel peaceful—" she clarified in a low whisper.
"That makes two of us," Jamee interrupted with a quip, but his eyes held a glimmer of something serious, something more cautionary than amused.
"But he does make me feel something," she sighed. "And I don't know if that's a good thing or not."
Jamee's expression became thoughtful, his gaze growing sharper. "Do you have to know right now? Maybe you could just… slow down. Give yourself time to understand what it is you're really looking for."
"It's not that simple," she murmured, shoving her hands into her coat pockets.
Of course it wasn't that simple. She disliked Uriel. Told him to his face she wanted nothing to do with him. Said she'd be happier if he got staked. Agreeing to submit to him didn't make the animosity go away; it just made it fester in a different direction. Her direction.
"I agreed to something stupid. Because I couldn't figure out whether the only reason I refused to do it in the first place was because I'd been running for so long."
Jamee's brows furrowed slightly, a faint crease appearing on his forehead. "Is it something you want?" he asked, his tone cautious, as if testing the weight of her answer.
She scoffed. "I'm not sure what I want. I'm not sure if my desires come from me or the… the thing in me."
It was so hard to separate the two. So hard to draw a clear, succinct line between who she was and what the submissive omega in her wanted. She'd already agreed to submit, already agreed to play Uriel's game, but she still couldn't sit with the certainty of it all. She still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she didn't always have to be in charge anymore. She was yet to accept that the part of her that strode into work every morning, ready to dish out orders, and the side of her that wanted to be put in her place and fucked relentlessly, were one and the same. Couldn't accept it.
Control had always been her armor, her defense. It sat on her like a second skin. She couldn't just tear it off, even though her traitorous 'pizda' wanted her to.
"I don't know if it's wrong to feel the things I do," she whispered, her voice pained.
Jamee's eyes softened, but his gaze held a firmness Cass hadn't noticed before. "Feeling something doesn't make it wrong," he said quietly. "But it's what you do with those feelings that matters."
Cass clenched her fists inside her coat pockets, her heart aching with the truth of his words. "But what if I'm not sure what to do with them? What if I can't even tell what's mine anymore?"
She was vulnerable in a way that terrified her—admitting, even to herself, that she wasn't in control. Not fully.
Jamee studied her face, his expression reflective. "You're not broken, Cass. Just… conflicted." He paused, his voice lowering. "And you don't have to make any decisions tonight. You could just let things be, give yourself the space to understand what you need—without rushing into something that might hurt you."
Cass scoffed softly, though there was no real bite in it. "What I need? I wouldn't even know where to start."
Jamee's smile returned, gentle but serious. "Then maybe this isn't about finding an answer right now. Maybe it's about giving yourself permission to feel… without losing yourself to it."
Cass felt her chest tighten at his words, a lump forming in her throat that she couldn't quite swallow down. How was it that Jamee, a man she barely knew, could cut through her defenses so easily? His kindness unnerved her more than Uriel's dominance ever did.
She stayed quiet for a while, mulling over his words. It wasn't that she didn't know what she wanted. She did. The problem was that her feelings were complicated—tangled in a web of fear, pride, and control. How could she relinquish control? How could she let herself give in to someone like Uriel? Someone who was all chaos and hunger? Someone who threatened to devour her whole?
But then again, wasn't that what part of her craved? Wasn't that why she'd whispered 'yes' to him and pulled off her panties when he'd demanded? To be consumed. To let go.
Uriel's voice echoed in her head, soft but commanding. 'Submission isn't about being weak, Cassandra. It's about being strong enough to let someone else carry the weight with you.'
It was one of the rare moments where he'd called her by her name. Not Ofitser, not Malen'kiy volk or 'Pup'. Her name.
Cass blinked, realizing Jamee was watching her closely. But his gaze, though understanding, also held a hint of something else—something guarded, as if he knew the risks of getting close to someone like Uriel.
Before she could dwell on it any longer, Jamee took the bottle from her and corked it again. "We should head back," he said, his tone light but tinged with concern.
Cass nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah." Then, as an afterthought she added, "Thanks for hearing my confession, Father."
Jamee grinned at her but didn't say anything more as he pushed himself off the railing and stretched, his back arching as he worked out the tension in his muscles. Cass couldn't help but glance at his arms again, looking for the images of angels and demons locked in some eternal struggle. But it was covered by the sleeve of his garments.
She shook the thought from her head as Jamee slid the wine bottle into the backpack and strapped it on.
"We'll return tomorrow to check on the magic circle," he said, handing her the helmet.
Cass looked down at the rubber ducks on the blue background, the yellows swimming in her vision. "What happens then?"
"If the wine turns black, it's a Vorvolak."
The magnitude of his words hung in the air, as if the forest itself was afraid of what it meant. But all Cass could think to say was, "Was that entire spell based on a rhyme?"
His dimpled smile was warm as he teased, "Maybe." Then, more worriedly, "You polished off most of the bottle. Sure you're alright to ride?"
Cass chuckled softly, slipping the helmet on. "I'll be fine. Just don't drive too fast."
He grinned, settling onto the bike. "No promises."
The ride back was quieter, the hum of the engine blending with the soft thrum of her thoughts. Cass gave directions as they sped down the darkened streets, her mind wine soft, her hands too comfortable around Jamee's torso.
When he finally pulled up in front of her house, the engine idling softly, she slid off the bike, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling into her bones.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Jamee said, his voice low but filled with warmth. "You'll need to pick up your car anyway."
Cass nodded, giving him a small smile. "Yeah. See you."
She headed inside, the warm air of her home a sharp contrast to the cool of the night. After a quick shower, she changed into her favorite loose shirt and shorts and fell into bed. Peppercorn meowed loudly and jumped onto the bed, curling up on the pillow beside her. She wasn't tired, the wine was coursing comfortably through her veins but her mind refused to rest.
Jamee's words echoed in her head, intertwining with the memory of Uriel's touch, his voice. 'It's about giving yourself permission to feel.'
She reached over to her bedside table and grabbed the file Uriel had given her, pulling the papers in it out before she could give her mind space for actual, rational thought. She held up the neatly printed pages, reading the first line:
This contract outlines the consensual D/s (Dominant and submissive) dynamic between Uriel Serpov (Dominant, hereafter referred to as "Master" or other related titles) and ___ (Submissive, hereafter referred to as "Sub" or other related titles). The purpose of this agreement is to explore erotic sensuality and power dynamics while maintaining mutual respect, safety, and communication.
Her heart thudded in her chest as she scanned the papers. She glanced through the roles; The Dominant agrees to be responsible for the well-being, safety, and proper training of the Submissive, ensuring that any activities are conducted within the Submissive's limits and boundaries.
The Submissive agrees to serve and obey the Dominant in all matters, while retaining the right to communicate boundaries, limits, and safewords.
There was a section for general hard limits and soft limits but Cass could barely focus on it when her eyes gravitated to the full-page, tabular spread.
The title at the top was in a bold, serif font; sharp and imposing just like the man who'd created it: The Kink List.
It was divided into three simple rows; 'Activity', 'Comfort Level' and 'Comments'. But the words in the columns beneath it were anything but simple.
Each major kink had its own sub-category. Under 'Bondage' she found 'Hands in front', 'Hands behind back', 'Knees', 'Rope Bondage', etc. Under 'Sensory Deprivation' she found 'Blindfolding' and 'Gagging'. Under 'Impact Play' was 'Spanking,' 'Paddling,' 'Flogging' and more.
There were 48 items on the list in total, some she recognised instantly. Others… not so much. And still, each item sent a ripple of heat through her, making her squirm uncomfortably in bed.
Cass's fingers lingered over the list, tracing the words as if they might leap off the page and ensnare her. Roleplay, degradation, bondage—the very ideas made her stomach clench, a heady mix of fear and excitement curling through her. She could almost feel Uriel's hands on her, commanding, controlling, pulling her deeper into his world. The fire that flickered inside her belly wasn't just desire—it was surrender. And it terrified her.
Jamee's words echoed again. 'Give yourself permission to feel…'
Cass grabbed her phone off the nightstand, staring down at it, her thumb hovering over the screen. The paper contract felt like a blade pressed against her skin—uncomfortable, unyielding, and inescapable. Calling him would only pull her deeper into his web; right where he wanted her. But the itch inside her wouldn't go away. Her pulse quickened as her thumb hovered.
Just one call, she told herself, her breathing shallow. Just to feel grounded again.
And then, before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed the button.