> "Some collars aren't forged in chains—they're born from surrender."
---
Dominic didn't wake up. He came to.
Consciousness crept in slowly, like a velvet glove tightening around his brain. He was naked, sore, and still collared. The velvet choker remained snug around his neck, pulsing with a soft pink glow. His cock throbbed with the memory of the night before, and his chest bore faint shimmering runes in the shape of Lyra's sigil—a crown laced with fangs.
She wasn't beside him.
He lifted his head. They weren't in his penthouse anymore.
The air was thick with magic. Too thick.
He was lying on satin sheets inside a circular chamber, its ceiling a dome of stained glass depicting constellations and moons in permanent eclipse. Dark vines crept along the walls, humming faintly with power. Every breath he took was laced with incense, roses, and something older—
Something not of this realm.
Dominic sat up slowly, pressing his hand to the floor.
"This isn't Earth," he muttered.
A voice answered behind him.
"No, love. This is my dominion."
---
Lyra appeared, not from the door—there wasn't one—but from the shadows.
She was cloaked in sheer black fabric, her curves only half-hidden. A crown of midnight roses sat upon her head, and her eyes shimmered like galaxies in collapse.
"You brought me to your world," Dominic said.
She nodded, gracefully stepping onto the bed, straddling his lap without asking.
"You were ready."
He licked his lips. "Ready for what?"
"For the next level of surrender."
He should have recoiled.
He didn't.
He reached up and touched her face.
"Are you going to keep me here forever?"
She smiled. "If I did, would you complain?"
He thought of the empire he once ruled, the stocks, the skyscrapers, the boardroom wars. All of it—suddenly so small.
"No," he whispered. "I'd kneel longer."
---
She kissed him then.
Not hard.
But with possession.
Like she wasn't asking. She was claiming. Again. And this time, the kiss flooded his mind with images—
Her walking through fire in another life
Her collaring ancient kings in lost empires
Her bleeding stars from her thighs as men worshipped her feet
Her name etched into stone and erased by jealous gods
He gasped as the kiss ended.
Lyra held his face gently. "You wear more than my collar, Dominic. You wear my legacy."
---
She turned, motioning with her fingers.
Chains descended from the ceiling. Silver, rune-laced, humming with