Bound

[Mature Content]

Cass didn't look back as her legs carried her through the crowd, but she could feel Uriel's gaze burning into her back. He didn't follow. He didn't stop her. He didn't need to.

Her chest heaved as she bolted out of the room. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears as she ran past the bustle of servers and the faint clatter of dishes, her vision blurring as she pushed through the kitchen and out into the cold night air. The heavy door shut behind her with a dull thud, leaving her in the biting chill of the evening.

It didn't matter where she was going. She just needed to breathe.  

The cold stung her face, harsh and unforgiving. It would snow soon, that was a given, but the cold had never been a problem for big, strong, werewolf Cassandra Pratt.

Broken.

Her kind was built for the cold.

Half-baked.

She'd be fine.

Her feet barely touched the ground as she sprinted blindly across the property, the world around her a blur of darkened trees and moonlit statues. Her mind was racing faster than her legs, her thoughts a chaotic mess of guilt, shame, and failure.

Pathetic hybrid.

Moonblind-bred scum.

Her legs buckled beneath her as she reached a stone bench and collapsed onto it, her hands trembling as they gripped the cold edges of the seat. The air burned her lungs as she gasped for breath, her chest tight, her throat constricted. She could feel her mind spiraling, the weight of her own inadequacy crashing down on her.

Failed shifter. Half-baked. Mix blood whelp.

Her breathing came in short, panicked bursts, her chest tightening painfully as she tried, and failed, to hold herself together. She was destined to be a failure. She'd failed to prevent the deaths of McMicheal, David and Sarah. She was destined to never fit in the spaces made for others. Destined to never belong. Not to a pack, not to human society— she couldn't even manage to belong to the one man who decided to make her his.

"I… failed," the words came out in a shuddery breath, her breath fogging up the air before her.

Pathetic hybrid. Mix blood whelp. 

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, like she could push back all the broken pieces of herself into one whole entity. But she couldn't feel her inadequacies spilling through the gaps in her hold; inky black and sludgy like unrefined crude oil or tar from the pits, spilling out of her. She couldn't fully submit. She failed to control her own emotions. She was a rocking boat of a union half-complete, broken promises and failed goals and her own despair was crashing down around her, threatening to pull her under.

She was nothing.

The tears came fast, unrelenting, streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at them furiously, but they kept coming. And in that moment, she was truly alone. No pack, no friends, no one to hold her and tell her that she was enough.

It was easier to have your shit together when your colleagues looked up to you, when you kept your problems so far away that you could walk with your head held high. But then,  there were moments like this, moments where she sat heart aching, eyes wet and burdened with the firm reminder that, when push comes to shove, she was well and truly alone. 

She didn't so much hear Uriel approach as she felt him. One moment Cass was alone ugly crying and hyperventilating in— she glanced around— the garden from beauty and the beast? The next— she glanced up through tear-filled eyes to see him standing before her, his silhouette casting a long shadow across the garden.

His expression was unreadable as he knelt in front of her, his movements slow and deliberate. Even in the cold, in her distress, his presence anchored her. Steady. Unyielding.

"Cassandra," he said softly, his voice like a beacon cutting through the storm of her mind. "Breathe."

Cass shook her head, gasping for breath. "I can't—" she choked out, her words barely a whisper. "I couldn't do it. I can't—"

"Don't think about that now," he said, his tone more firm, yet still gentle. "Just focus on me." He reached for her hands, taking them in his, his touch warm and solid. "Look at me, Cassandra."

She blinked, her tear-filled eyes meeting his gaze. Uriel's thumb brushed over the back of her hand in slow, soothing strokes, his touch a grounding rhythm. She inhaled shakily, following the motion of his hand.

"That's it," he murmured. "In... out..."

She forced herself to breathe with him, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with his slow, measured breaths. The panic began to ebb, the tightness in her chest loosening as she focused on the feel of his thumb against her skin.

"Good girl," Uriel said softly, his voice filled with quiet approval.

A shiver ran through her, and she closed her eyes, letting the tension drain from her body. But the shame still lingered, the weight of her failure pressing down on her. Good girl? Hah. That was rich. She'd essentially Sonic The Hedgehog-ed out of his house.

"I'm sorry, I—" Cass faltered, her voice thick with guilt. "I couldn't do what you asked. I failed."

Uriel's gaze softened, his good eye looking too soft against the ruggedness of his black eyepatch. He  lifted a hand to gently brush a tear from her cheek. "No, you didn't fail," he said, his tone firm but kind. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You gave me more than I could have asked for. You pushed yourself to the very edge, even when I didn't make it clear what I wanted from you. That's on me. I'm the one who failed you, Cassandra."

She blinked in confusion, her breath hitching. She hadn't expected that—she hadn't expected him to take the blame. Her chest tightened, emotions swirling inside her. She opened her mouth to protest, but Uriel silenced her with a gentle shake of his head.

"I should've been more careful, more... intuitive about your limits," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "I pushed you too hard, too fast. I'm sorry, Cassandra."

The words hung between them, sinking into her like warmth on a cold day. He was apologizing to her? 

Cass swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond to this... this gentleness. Uriel, the asshole vampire who was always either cold and distant or cocky and annoying, was kneeling in front of her, wiping away her tears.

"I..." She began, her voice trembling. "Master, I..."

"Yes, Malen'kiy volk?" His voice was soft, almost tender as he called her by the nickname.

She'd heard it multiple times before, mostly when she wanted to wrap her hand around his throat and drive a stake to his heart, but never before had the familiar term of endearment sounded so loving coming from his lips.

The word she wanted to say—'please'—was stuck in her throat. She'd signed the contract, sure. She'd even taken off her panties in his office. But, she just realized, she'd never fully understood what it meant to submit. She'd thought she did, she'd thought she was ready for it but, ultimately she'd just been horny and desperate and, deep down, she'd had the idea that being Uriel's sub would be a good way to get through heats as an omega. But it was more than that. It had always been more than that. Uriel had spelled it out for her. It was being strong enough to let someone else carry your weight. It was letting him guide not just her pleasure but allowing him to free her thoughts from the burdens that plagued her. He'd said it, she'd known it but she hadn't fully understood that the physical side of submission was just one part of it; the part that made her core warm and her knees shake. 

It wasn't just about giving him her body, it was about letting go. Letting him take the burdens weighing her down, trusting him to guide her, to take the mess of emotions swirling in her chest and set them right.

'I need him.'

The words dropped like a pebble in the lake of her mind and, suddenly, nothing had been more clear to her.

She swallowed, the word forming on her lips. "Please."

Uriel's gaze softened further, and without another word, he stood and pulled her gently to her feet. His hand was warm, solid, and reassuring as he held hers.

"Come," he said quietly, his voice a balm to the rawness inside her. "Let's go back inside."

Cass nodded, the weight in her chest lightening as she followed him. She stayed close, her fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt as he led her back into the mansion. They walked in silence, but it wasn't the tense, oppressive silence from before. It was calmer. Comforting.

The walk back to the mansion was longer than her own run out, as if Uriel was giving her the time and space to calm her breathing and wipe and snot. But, soon enough, she recognised the entrance of the mansion, shady men-in-black bodyguards hanging around included. Uriel nodded at a guard who nodded back as he opened the door and Uriel walked into the building with Cass in tow.

For the second time that tight, she found herself in the spacious foyer. Heavy music pounded from the living room and a shriek of laughter— Maeve's, she was sure— weaved through it.

Uriel stopped, turning to her with a soft, reassuring smile. "Go wait for me in the playroom."

Cass hesitated, her hand still clutching his shirt. "I... I don't remember where it is," she admitted quietly. And she didn't want to be separated from him. She wasn't sure she could handle going anywhere on her own right there.

Uriel's expression softened further, and he bent down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Wait here, then. I need to say my goodbyes. I'll only be a moment."

Cass watched as Uriel strode into the living room. She could hear the murmur of voices from within, though she couldn't quite make out the words. A pang of anxiety flickered in her chest and she resisted the urge to heighten her senses and listen in. She stayed where she was, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress as she tried to calm herself.

She heard Maeve's voice from the other room, light but worried. "Is she alright? She left so suddenly."

"She'll be fine," Uriel replied, his voice calm and steady.

A moment of silence followed, then a new voice broke in—one Cass didn't recognize. "I could've sworn I saw a werewolf hanging around you earlier."

"And is there a problem with that, Vaughn?" Uriel's voice was sharp, but not aggressive.

Cass's heart skipped a beat. She didn't know any Vaughn so why the hell was someone looking for her?

"That's Alpha Vaughn to you," the voice growled. "You do know it's customary for lesser wolves to pay their respects to the Alpha in the room at gatherings."

Cass bristled, a lump forming in her throat at the title. She'd never heard of an Alpha Vaughn— unsurprising, she was farther from her own kind than Havenfield P.D was from the moon—still she hated the implications of what he was saying. She was no stranger to the hierarchy of werewolves, but the description still stung. 'Lesser wolves…' She'd always been an outcast. Even among wolves, she was at the bottom of the ladder. But, as a hybrid? Even the average rogue would find her beneath him.

Uriel's voice, however, was utterly dismissive. "I don't give a shit about your rules and customs, Vaughn. This is my party, and my guests are free to mingle with whoever they please."

Two low growls filled the air, probably the betas getting defensive for their Alpha. There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a chuckle laced with a bitter edge. "You've always been rebellious, haven't you, Uriel? Always so dismissive of Aetherkin tradition, of werewolf customs."

Uriel scoffed. "And you've always been drunk on your own power, Vaughn. Being the Alpha of a pack doesn't make you God." His voice dropped lower, colder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be retiring for the evening. Feel free to stick around. Enjoy the party."

There was a beat of silence, then the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Uriel emerged from the room, his expression relaxed, but there was a glint in his eye as he met Cass's gaze.

"Did you hear all that?" he asked quietly.

Cass nodded, her throat tight. "I wouldn't have greeted him anyway," she muttered. "I haven't been in a pack for a long time. Their rules don't mean anything to me anymore."

Uriel tipped her chin up with a gentle hand, his lips curling into a soft smirk. "How could you have gone to pay your respects to some dumb Alpha when you were too busy being my good little sub?"

Cass's breath hitched at the words, her pulse quickening. 

Uriel's smirk widened. "Come on, I believe I promised you a reward."

Cass's breath caught in her throat as Uriel's words echoed in her mind. 'My good little sub.' Her pulse quickened, heat blooming in her core at the way he said it—with a possessive, almost reverent tone. She swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence, of the way his gaze lingered on her, assessing, teasing.

Uriel turned, his hand sliding from her chin to clasp her wrist, pulling her gently toward the hallway. "Come," he said, his voice low and commanding.

That was how Cass knew he was going to make good on his promise.

Cass followed, her heart thudding in her chest, her skin tingling with anticipation. Each step toward the playroom felt charged, her mind swirling with the knowledge of what was coming. The night felt longer than it actually was but there was no way she could forget the memory of earlier, of his touch, of his commands, still lingered on her skin like the sharp burs of an electric plant.

When they reached the playroom, Uriel opened the door and gestured for her to enter first. The room was dimly lit, the shadows casting soft shapes across the walls. Cass's eyes swept over the familiar space—the padded bench, the mirrored wall, the wall of whips, chains, and paddles she'd barely gotten a glimpse of before.

Uriel closed the door behind them, the soft click of the lock sounding louder than it should have. Cass turned to face him, her breath coming quicker now, her chest tight with anticipation.

He walked slowly until he was behind her, tracing her body slowly as he did. The rip of the zipper of her dress being pulled down sounded too loud in her ears, making her gasp.

The dress stumbled down her shoulders, clinging helplessly to her upper arms. Uriel stalked around her again, stopping a few feet in front of her. His gaze burned her skin, starting at the top of her head and leaving a blazing trail down to the tip of her nice Gucci heels.

"Strip," Uriel commanded, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Cass blinked, momentarily frozen. She stood there for a heartbeat, her pulse racing, before her hands moved to the hem of her dress, her fingers trembling slightly as she pulled the fabric down, stepping out of it to leave it in a messy heap beside her feet. Her bra followed suit. Bye bye panties. The cool air hit her bare skin, and her cheeks flushed as she stood exposed before him, her nipples hardening against the chill, her thighs slick from the lingering arousal she hadn't had time to shake off.

"Shoes too, Cassandra," he said simply.

Oh! Right! 

She bent down to unbuckle the clasps on her shoes. Her face flaming all the more knowing he was watching.

Uriel whistled appreciatively. "Can't say I'm not enjoying the view." 

Cass bit down on her lip as she pulled off the black heels and placed them beside her. But, before she could straighten up again, Uriel said, "Fold them."

Now, was that really necessary?

"Master, I—"

"Fold them, Cassandra," Uriel said, firmly. "I won't repeat myself again."

She froze, ass in the air, hands to the ground. Was folding her clothes really the thing she'd protest about?

No.

Slowly, she picked up her dress and held it straight, folding it carefully as Uriel watched her. Luxuriating in the movements of her naked body. She folded the dress in her hands and placed her underwear on the folded clothes. She straightened up and held the clothes before her, waiting for his next order. 

Uriel took the clothes from her and placed them on a nearby drawer. He returned to the space in front of her, his gaze darkening as he watched her, his eye drinking in every inch of her exposed skin. He didn't speak, didn't move. He simply watched, his expression unreadable, but the tension in the room was thick, charged. His silence was its own form of control, making her wait, making her feel the weight of his gaze.

Cass bit her lip, fighting the urge to cover herself. She'd stood in this same room earlier but she wasn't naked, vulnerable. The pulsing desire remained though, the need to be seen, to be wanted, to be owned.

"Position two," Uriel said, his voice firm but calm.

Cass swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her ears. She dropped her gaze and moved into the position he'd taught her—standing with her legs spread shoulder-width apart, her hands clasped behind her back, her head bowed in submission.

The silence stretched between them for a long moment, the air thick with unspoken anticipation. Cass's chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, her heart racing. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her—heavy, possessive, lingering on the exposed curves of her body.

"Good girl," Uriel said softly, his voice a low purr.

A shiver ran down her spine at the praise. There was something so... addictive about it. The way his approval made her pulse quicken, made her skin tingle, made her want to please him. She bit her lip, fighting the wave of desire that surged through her.

"Hands in front of you," Uriel instructed.

Cass obeyed immediately, bringing her hands forward, holding them clasped in front of her instead of behind her. Her breath hitched as Uriel stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way.

"This is Position 3," Uriel murmured, his voice low, sweeping over her like a physical touch. "Do well to remember it."

"Yes, Master," Cass whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

"On the bed," Uriel commanded next, his voice losing its softness and gaining an edge of authority. "Get on your hands and knees. Legs spread."

Cass's cheeks flushed as she climbed onto the bed, her body moving before her mind could catch up with the command. She positioned herself on all fours, her thighs shaking slightly as she spread her legs.

"Lower yourself into the mattress," He ordered. "I want your ass up for me. Hands behind your back."

She raised her hips into the air, removing the arms supporting her and putting it behind her back. The cool, satin of the bedsheet felt smooth against her face as she pressed her cheek into the mattress with her rump up. The cool air of the room brushed against her slick folds, and she bit back a gasp at the sudden sensation of exposure.

Uriel's gaze was heavy on her, and she could feel the heat of it, could feel how utterly open and vulnerable she was in this position. Her heart raced as his fingers ran through her slit languidly, her breath quickening.

"That's Position 4," Uriel said, his voice roughened with desire. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Cass whispered, though her voice was muffled by the mattress pressing against her face. Her body was trembling now, the vulnerability of the position making her pulse race and her core throb with need.

Uriel's hand left her pussy and came down on her ass in a swift, sharp tap. "Good girl," he said, his voice dark with approval.

Cass gasped at the sudden sting, but the heat of it only seemed to make the ache between her legs worse. She could feel herself getting wetter, the tension building inside her, her body screaming for release.

Uriel moved away, the soft rustling of the drawer opening filling the silence. Cass could hear the sound of something being retrieved, but she didn't dare move. She stayed perfectly still, her body trembling with anticipation.

Uriel returned, and she felt him climb onto the bed behind her, his presence looming over her. He held something in front of her face—rope, black, thick and coarse.

"I'm going to tie your hands now," Uriel said softly, although the commanding edge never left his voice. "Are you comfortable with that?"

"Yes, Master," Cass replied, breathlessly.

Uriel moved behind her, looping the rope around her wrists with practiced ease, tying the knot tight but not painfully so. The rope was snug, binding her hands behind her back, leaving her vulnerable, helpless, and completely at his mercy.

He pulled on the rope slightly, testing the knot, and then he slid his hand over the curve of her ass, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"You look beautiful like this," Uriel murmured, his voice low and reverent.

Cass's breath hitched, a flush of heat spreading through her at his words. She felt exposed, but at the same time, she felt cherished. She wanted to be his, wanted to be laid bare before him, to give him everything.

Uriel's fingers trailed down her spine, slow and teasing, before slipping between her legs. Cass gasped as his fingers brushed against her wetness, her hips twitching involuntarily at the sensation.

"So wet for me," Uriel growled softly, his fingers sliding through her slick folds. "You've been like this all night, haven't you? Needy. Desperate."

"Yes, Master," Cass breathed, her voice shaking with both arousal and submission.

Uriel's fingers found her clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made her entire body tremble. The rope around her wrists tightened as she instinctively pulled against it, her hips moving in time with his touch, chasing the release that had been denied for too long.

He murmured something in Russian, his accent rumbling over the words that went straight to Cass's core although she had no idea what they meant.

"Such a good girl," Uriel murmured, his voice a low rumble of approval. "You want me to fuck this pretty pink Pizda, don't you? You want me to make you cum, don't you? Chertova shlyukha."

Cass moaned softly, her body arching as his dipped into her entrance. Unlike when he teased her earlier, he needed no introduction. Two fingers found their way into her core, thrusting relentlessly, speed running her journey to orgasm. Her legs shook, her hands battled futilely against their bonds. 

She was going to cum, with or without permission.

"Just look at you, Cassandra," Uriel chuckled. "You sound so sexy when you whimper. Yebat', your moans are such a turn on."

Well, at least she could take consolation in the fact that he was having fun because Cass… Cass was dying, His fingers moved faster, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Never before had she felt pleasure so raw, so visceral. It was nothing like touching herself, nothing like the messy one night stands she'd had. Uriel was claiming her without even sticking his dick in and it was driving her insane. The tension inside her was coiling tighter, the pleasure building with every stroke of his fingers, every word of praise that fell from his lips.

"Please, Master," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. "Please, I need—"

"Do you want to come, Malen'kiy volk?" Uriel asked, his tone dark, teasing.

"Yes, Master," Cass begged, her voice barely a whisper. "Please."

He could have told her to wait. Could have told her she wasn't allowed to. But, perhaps he was feeling merciful after the night she'd had. After all, this was a reward. Because the next words that fell from his lips were the ones she'd been waiting to hear since the moment he'd first brought her into this room.

"Then come for me," Uriel commanded, his fingers pressing harder, his pace quickening.

Cass's body shattered. The release hit her with the force of a tidal wave, her muscles tensing, her back arching as the pleasure ripped through her. She cried out, her hips bucking as Uriel's fingers worked her through the orgasm, prolonging the sweet, torturous sensation until she was gasping for breath, her body shaking with the aftershocks.

But Uriel didn't stop. His fingers continued to tease her, gentle but insistent, drawing out every last bit of her release until she was trembling, spent and boneless beneath him.

"Good girl," Uriel whispered, his voice filled with approval.

Cass's breath came in shallow, uneven pants, her body still buzzing from the intensity of her orgasm. But she wasn't done. Not yet. She needed more.

"Please, Master," she whispered again, her voice hoarse, desperate.

Uriel smirked, his fingers stilling for a moment before he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "I think you can handle another, don't you?"

Cass's heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat. She nodded frantically, her body aching for more, for the pleasure, the pain, the overwhelming sensation of being utterly, completely owned.

Uriel's fingers slipped back between her legs, and Cass knew she was about to be undone again.