Shared Space

Vulvan's pov.

I smiled, looking at what I had done to her body. It was sure gonna pain, and I wanted her to think of me every time it stung. I was the one who inflicted that pain on her, and I was far from done. I will be the only one to give her pain—and the only one to treat her afterwards. I would've continued, but I had to stop, so the pain wouldn't be too much by the next day for her next punishment.

"I'm done. Also, use it at night. It'll reduce the pain and redness," I said, helping her sit up. She looked at me with so much anger. If only she knew what was coming her way next, she would wipe off that look on her face and be grateful i stopped.

"I'll have something brought up to you so you can eat. You must be starving after all that alcohol you consumed," I added. She rolled her eyes at me.

I shrugged. "What?"

"I want to go to my room. I'll have it there. I need a shower and some new clothes," she said, looking at herself. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, realising she had nothing underneath my shirt. Why would she be embarrassed when I've seen everything on her body—in and out?

"You'll do everything here," I said.

She frowned, eyebrows creasing in confusion.

"I mean, you'll stay here with me henceforth," I clarified. Deep down, I was kind of nervous to see how she’d react. We both had our separate rooms, but the thought of not having her beside me was killing me.

"So, you want me to start living in your room?" She paused. "And why is that?"

"We've stayed far too long in separate rooms. It's time we stayed together. Besides, I need stress relief when you're by my side." She was my mate. Her closeness brought me peace, and she wasn't going to deny me that.

She looked away. My words were getting to her, but she still looked pissed.

"Stress relief?" she asked.

I nodded. She knew she couldn’t reject my request. I needed her. We needed each other. That’s how mates should act—not like neighbours.

She looked distant and tense. What was going through her mind? Did my request shift her mood?

"Relax, I’m a pretty good sleeper. You don’t have to worry about me pushing you off the bed if that’s what you’re thinking," I said with a smirk.

"What makes you think I was thinking about that? Who said anything about staying with you?. Don’t put words in my mouth. "

I leaned in toward her. "I’m not asking, Zara. Be a good girl and do what I say."

"Or else what? You’ll spank me again?" she snapped, lifting herself on her elbow until our breaths touched. I loved how she challenged me. She knew I wouldn’t stop, yet she still pressed my buttons. Those curious eyes of hers could make me lose my mind.

"I’ll do even worse things to you. Try me—if you're that curious to know," I whispered in her ear, making sure my words were clear and final.

"Fine then," she said, surprising me. Killing the fun before I could unleash the fire I had stored. Smart move—she remembered what happened the last time.

"Bloody egomaniac," she muttered angrily. She pushed me and stormed straight into the bathroom. She did look cute when she was upset, and I would do it over and over again just to get that reaction.

"What’s that? You want me to come have a shower with you? I can do th—"

"No! I didn’t say that! Stay here. I’ll take my shower by MYSELF!" she yelled.

I chuckled. I heard her loud and clear. I just wanted to see if she’d say it to my face.

I watched her disappear into the bathroom. The door closed behind her, and seconds later, I heard the sound of running water.

My lips twitched into a dark smile. She was angry—furious—but beneath that rage was something else. She felt me. Just like I felt her. That fire she tried to hide only made me want her more.

I walked slowly around the room, picking up the discarded pieces of her clothes. Torn. Damp from sweat and my touch. They clung to the memory of everything that happened minutes ago. I raised one to my face and breathed her in. My body stirred with need again, but I forced myself to wait. She needed to recover before I started again.

With a sigh, I tossed the fabric aside and sat back on the edge of the bed. The marks I left on her would fade soon. I didn’t want that. I wanted her to carry me on her skin—to remember my name every time she felt the faintest sting.

I was the storm that tore through her world. I didn’t want her to ever forget that.

Minutes passed. I glanced at the bathroom door. The water was still running. What was she doing—crying, maybe? Washing me off? Trying to scrub her skin until it no longer burned with the memory of my hands?

Good luck with that, Zara.

I stood and moved to the door, pressing my ear to it. I could hear her faint breathing beneath the running water. Then, finally, the water stopped.

I quickly returned to the chair, legs spread, owning the room. When she came out, I wanted her to see me like this—casual, composed, in control.

The door creaked open. She stepped out wrapped in a towel, hair damp and clinging to her face and neck. She avoided my eyes and went straight to the dresser, pulling out a fresh shirt and shorts.

"I thought you’d come out," I said smoothly, my eyes trailing her back and legs.

She froze briefly, then ignored me. “I’m not in the mood for your games, Vulvan.”

I stood, crossed the room in two strides, and grabbed her wrist, spinning her to face me. The towel slipped slightly. My breath caught.

She stared at me, lips parted. Her breathing heavy. Her chest rising and falling. And for a second, I saw something in her eyes—something between defiance and desire.

I leaned in again, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. My thumb lingered on her cheek, and I could feel the heat still on her skin.

“You can keep acting like you hate me, but your body already gave you away,” I whispered.

She clenched her jaw, yanked her hand free, and turned away.

“I said I’m not in the mood.”

“But I am,” I murmured to myself, watching her back as she slipped into her clothes. The game was far from over.