Chapter 11
Ethan's HOUSE
Ethan's pov
Dinner ended, but the tension in the room didn't dissipate. Lena kept her head down, careful not to meet my gaze, though I knew she wanted to. I had been watching her all evening, the slight tremor in her hands, the way her pulse quickened whenever I moved too close. It made my chest tighten, possession rising like a storm I could barely contain.
"Come upstairs," I said, my voice low, controlled, leaving no room for hesitation.
She froze for a split second before obeying. That pause, tiny as it was, made my teeth grit. Good. She knew better than to resist.
The stairs creaked under our footsteps, but neither of us spoke. By the time we reached my bedroom, I had already claimed the space in my mind. It was mine, and now, so was she.
"Take off your jacket," I said. Not softly. Not politely. Commanding.
"Yes… Mr. Cole," she whispered. Her obedience sent a sharp thrill through me.
I stepped closer, close enough that the heat from my body brushed hers. She shivered at the contact. Her pulse raced, breath quickened. She understood what tonight would mean, and she didn't resist.
I let my hand brush her arm, slow and deliberate, feeling every reaction. Every shiver, every sharp intake of breath, every hesitant glance, she was mine to control.
"Do you understand why you're here?" I murmured, circling her like a predator, reading her body, her awareness. "Every action, every choice, belongs to me while you are under my roof."
"Yes… Mr. Cole," she breathed, trembling.
I didn't answer. I didn't need to. The night would teach her better than words could. I guided her to the bed, ensuring every step reinforced my authority. Her knees weakened, but she stayed upright. Obedience wasn't easy, but she had learned to follow.
I moved behind her, letting my presence dominate. She shivered at my closeness, lips parted slightly, eyes wide. Every inch of her body was tuned to mine. She knew she couldn't move without my command. She didn't want to.
"You left the car two days ago," I said, voice low, deliberate. "Do you understand the consequences of disobedience?"
"Yes… Mr. Cole," she whispered. The trembling in her voice ignited a possessive fire in me.
I circled her again, letting my gaze claim every reaction, every shiver, every breath she took. She was mine to command tonight. Every motion, every heartbeat, every thought—under my control.
Hours passed in silence and intensity. Every word I spoke, every subtle touch, reinforced dominance and obedience. She followed every movement, every command, perfectly. Her awareness of me, her anticipation, her submission, it was intoxicating. I could feel the power radiating between us, every second charged with tension.
Then her phone rang. I didn't move, but her body tensed, and I felt my own muscles tighten. She looked at the screen.
Her mother.
I flinched. The name alone, the sound of her voice, brought back shadows I had long buried. Lena noticed immediately.
"Ethan…" she started.
"No questions," I cut in, sharp and commanding. "Answer her."
She did. Her voice was careful, small, tentative. And when she hung up, she looked at me, eyes wide.
"Why did you.." she began.
I ignored her. There was no explanation. Not tonight. Not while I was in control. She had already seen the flicker of my reaction. That was enough.
"Where were we?" I murmured, moving close again, letting the heat and dominance of my presence press against her.
Her pulse spiked instantly, breath quickening. She didn't answer, she couldn't. The night had already claimed her, and I would not let anything break the intensity I had built.
I leaned down, letting my hands glide along her arms, over her shoulders, over her hair. Every shiver she gave me was a mark of submission, a proof of obedience.
"You are mine," I said, low and possessive. "Do you understand?"
"Yes… Mr. Cole," she breathed, shivering.
Good. That was all I needed to hear. Every part of her responded, every motion and reaction obeyed. The tension, the closeness, the control, it consumed the room, consumed her, and in part, consumed me.
I let the night stretch, letting her feel the dominance, letting her shiver under my command, letting her breath quicken, letting the quiet, intense presence between us dominate everything. The room shrank until there was only her, only me, only control, and obedience.
Even after the phone call, after the flinch at her mother's name, I continued. I ignored her questions, silenced them with my presence, my control, my dominance. She was mine tonight. Every whisper, every shiver, every tremor of her body affirmed it.
By the time the night came to its natural close, she was exhausted, breathless, trembling under the weight of the tension I had laid upon her. And yet, she was fully present, fully mine, fully aware of the control I exerted.
Jonah's threats still lingered in my mind. But tonight, they meant nothing. Tonight, Lena was safe. Tonight, she understood that obedience and trust were survival under my roof, that my dominance wasn't cruelty, it was protection.
And even as darkness fell across the room, the knowledge of Jonah's looming danger hung there, a shadow I would cut down for her, a fire I would burn for her. She was mine, entirely, and the night had cemented it.