Regret?

Xander’s strides remained firm, every step filled with defiance, yet controlled by the tugs of the crown cuffs behind his back. His breath was steady, but his sharp exhale betrayed his frustration. He hated this; hated being restrained, hated being led. And yet, he followed.

“I hate being enslaved,”

he muttered, his deep voice unwavering.

“But you already knew that.”

Valeria walked beside him, her presence effortless yet dominant. She watched him with an amused smile, the sound of her heels echoing in the grand hallway.

“Do you regret it, then?”

she asked, her tone smooth, teasing.

“Regret being disciplined… being bound to my rule?”

Xander’s jaw clenched. He could feel the weight of the question settle over him like an invisible chain. Did he regret it? The cuffs tugged again, forcing him to adjust his stride. He inhaled slowly, exuding control even in submission.

His lips curled into a smirk.

“Regret?”

His voice was low, almost challenging. He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze.

“I don’t regret anything.”

A pause. Then, with a flicker of amusement in his eyes, he added,

“Though I doubt you’d let me, even if I did.”

________

Xander had never known restraint like this. Even in sleep, the cold metal of the crown cuffs remained locked around his wrists, a silent reminder of his position under Valeria’s rule. His body, powerful and disciplined, was no longer his to command. The night passed with his muscles tense, his mind warring between defiance and the inescapable reality—he was bound, owned.

Morning came, and when the choice was given, he knelt. Not because he was broken, but because he understood the game. The next day, he chose to walk, only to find himself restrained again, the cuffs biting into his wrists with each commanding pull. It was a cycle, one that Valeria dictated effortlessly.

She had her own life beyond controlling him—her family business, the empire she managed with ease. And Xander? He had nothing. No fortune, no inheritance. His brother had stripped him of everything, every last piece of wealth and legacy. The only thing he still possessed was his face—the sharp jawline, the striking eyes, the undeniable presence of an alpha who once ruled his own world. But here, in Valeria’s mansion, he was just another possession, a man with no power beyond what she allowed.

She provided him with meals fit for a king, ensuring his strength never waned, because she wanted him at his peak. And after each feast, after each moment of indulgence, came the inevitable: punishment. A test of his will, a reminder of his place. He lived in luxury, yet he owned nothing.

And yet, even in restraint, Xander remained Xander. A man unyielding, even as the cuffs dictated his every move.

Xander lay awake in the dim morning light, his wrists still bound behind him by the ever-present crown cuffs. The air in Valeria’s mansion was mild, the temperature perfectly controlled, the bed beneath him far softer than anything he had ever slept on before. Every need was met—food, rest, comfort—yet all of it came at the cost of his freedom. He was an alpha in body, but in action, he was bound, restrained, owned.

Did he feel grateful? No. Gratitude was for those who accepted their fate. Xander wasn’t broken, not yet. His pride wouldn't allow it. He had lost everything—his wealth, his inheritance, his former life—stolen by his own brother. And now, here he was, living under his girlfriend’s rule, reduced to a possession she controlled at will.

He turned his head slightly, watching as the morning glow bathed the room in soft light. He had everything a man could want—luxury, security, a bed so perfect it made sleep effortless. But it was a gilded cage. A reminder that no matter how well she treated him, no matter how much she fed and indulged him, he was still shackled to her rule.

Did he want revenge? The thought simmered beneath his composed exterior. Not against Valeria—no, she was the one keeping him alive, keeping him from becoming nothing. But against the world that had stripped him of his place, his power. Against the people who had betrayed him.

For now, he played along. He obeyed. But Xander was no servant. He was biding his time. Watching. Learning. Because the moment he saw his chance, the moment the chains loosened even slightly; he would reclaim everything. And when that day came, the world would remember who he truly was.

Xander sat at the grand dining table, his wrists still bound behind him by the crown cuffs, forcing him to rely on Valeria’s hand to feed him. The aroma of perfectly cooked steak filled the air, the rich taste melting on his tongue. Every bite was a cruel reminder—he was being indulged, pampered even, yet he was still nothing more than her possession.

He exhaled sharply, watching her with a cold gaze before speaking, his voice low and edged with defiance.

"You feed me like a king, yet keep me bound like a dog." He licked the last trace of sauce from his lips, jaw tightening. "Tell me, Valeria, do you enjoy watching me swallow your generosity?"

She only smirked, cutting another piece and bringing it to his lips. He hesitated, then took it, chewing slowly.

"Tch," he scoffed, swallowing. "I should despise this. Hate how you're making me live under your rule, treating me like I'm yours to control." His eyes darkened, voice dropping. "But here I am, eating well, sleeping well, better than I ever did when I had everything."

His tongue ran over his teeth as he let the truth settle in.

"Doesn't mean I’m grateful." His smirk mirrored hers now, daring. "Just means I'm patient."

As Valeria brought another piece of food to his lips, her fingers casually brushed against his jawline, adjusting the strands of his comma-styled hair into perfect place. Xander exhaled sharply, his restrained wrists making it impossible to push her hand away. He hated how effortless her control was—how she fed him, fixed him, ruled him.

He chewed slowly, gaze locked onto her. Then, in a low murmur, he muttered, "Doesn’t mean I’m grateful."

Valeria’s hand stilled. A smirk ghosted her lips, but her eyes gleamed with something sharper.

"So, you regret being here, Xander?" she asked, voice smooth yet laced with warning. "Or do you regret saying that in front of me?"

Xander's jaw tensed. His body remained still, but his mind raced. He wasn't stupid—he knew what came next.

"Tch." He exhaled through his nose. "I’m just not the type to thank my captor."

Valeria tilted her head, her smirk deepening.

"Then tell me," she continued, voice dangerously sweet, "what exactly do you want revenge for? The meals? The comfort? Or the fact that, even in chains, you still obey?"

Xander's breath hitched. He clenched his jaw, refusing to answer. He knew this was a game—one he was already losing.

Valeria leaned in closer, her voice a whisper against his ear.

"You say you're not grateful. Let's make sure you regret that, shall we?"

And with that, punishment followed. The next moment, Xander found himself kneeling, head bowed in forced submission, wrists still locked behind him. The once-great Alpha, stripped of power, stripped of pride. The bite of discipline burned through him, but worse than that—was the bitter taste of his own mistake.

He had said he was just patient.

Now, he knew; patience meant nothing when regret had already taken hold.

Xander sat on the edge of the velvet chaise, his wrists still adorned with the crown cuffs that marked his submission. The morning light filtered through the grand windows of Valeria’s mansion, casting golden streaks across the marbled floor. He had eaten well—too well for someone who was supposed to be a prisoner. Yet, his body still bore the remnants of last night’s punishment.

He exhaled sharply, jaw clenched. He hated this. The contradiction. The fact that he had everything but owned nothing.

When the door finally creaked open, Valeria stepped inside, dressed in a sleek black suit, her presence commanding as always. She barely spared him a glance as she crossed the room, already occupied with her business calls and tasks.

Xander shifted, clearing his throat. "I want to negotiate."

Valeria didn’t pause. She continued checking something on her tablet, flipping through documents with practiced ease. "For what?" she asked, voice distracted, uninterested.

Xander exhaled through his nose. "I’ll say I’m grateful." His voice was controlled, but there was an edge of irritation beneath it. "I’ll say it properly if that’s what you want."

At that, Valeria finally looked at him. Amusement flickered in her gaze. "You think I have time to entertain your little negotiations, Xander?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I have an empire to run."

Xander's hands curled into fists. "Then why keep me?" His voice was lower now, almost daring. "If I mean so little compared to your business, why not let me go?"

Valeria smirked, stepping closer. She leaned down slightly, her fingers tracing the edge of his cuffs before tilting his chin up. "Because even if I don’t have time for you, you still belong to me."

Xander inhaled sharply, his pride warring with the reality of his situation. He was nothing here; nothing but a possession. And for now, all he could do was swallow his pride and wait for the moment he could reclaim himself.

Xander sat in silence, his wrists still bound by the crown cuffs, the weight of them a constant reminder that he was nothing more than a possession here. The luxurious mansion around him felt more like a gilded cage.

He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders against the ache of restraint. "Three hours," he muttered to himself, jaw tight. "Three damn hours like this."

He flexed his fingers, testing the cuffs, but they held firm; of course, they did. He wasn’t an idiot to think she’d make it easy for him. "I need to get out of this," he whispered under his breath, eyes burning with something darker than mere frustration.

But as soon as he heard the faint sound of heels clicking against the marble floors, his body tensed. He already knew what was coming next.

"She’s home," he muttered bitterly, tilting his head back against the couch. "And now, I’m her little pet again."

__

Valeria stepped into the grand hall, her heels clicking against the polished floor, the weight of the day’s business slipping from her shoulders. She didn’t have to look far; Xander was right where she left him.

She smirked. "Still waiting for me?" her voice dripped with amusement. "How obedient."

His glare was sharp, but she only tilted her head slightly, as if studying an amusing sight. She stepped closer, letting her fingers graze his jaw before running through his hair, effortlessly fixing his slightly messy comma hairstyle.

"You look tense,"

she noted casually. "Didn’t enjoy your alone time?"

Xander scoffed.

"If you can call being cuffed for hours ‘alone time.’"

Valeria chuckled, kneeling slighty, so their faces were level.

"You knew I’d come back," she murmured. "And now that I’m here, you’ll behave, won’t you?"

She watched his jaw clench, his breath uneven. She knew what he wanted to fight, to break free; but that wasn’t an option. Not when she held every key to his existence.

"Three hours," Xander muttered under his breath, his wrists flexing against the crown cuffs. "Three damn hours just sitting here like a decoration."

The moment the front door opened, he tensed. He already knew what was coming. The familiar sound of heels clicking against marble sent a slow irritation crawling up his spine.

"Still sulking?" Valeria’s voice carried amusement as she stepped into the room, her presence dominating the space effortlessly. She stopped in front of him, tilting his chin up with a single finger. "I thought you’d be used to waiting by now."

"I’m not a dog," Xander gritted out.

Valeria smirked. "No, you’re not. But you still stay where I leave you." Her fingers traced over the metal of his cuffs before moving up, combing through his slightly disheveled comma hairstyle. "Messy," she noted, fixing it with a few casual strokes. "There. Much better."

Xander exhaled sharply, eyes dark. "You think just fixing my hair makes up for this?"

She hummed, trailing a fingertip down his jawline. "I think you’re still here, still looking at me like you’d tear me apart if I let you." She leaned in slightly, voice softer but no less teasing. "And I think no matter how much you sulk, you’ll still follow my rules the moment I ask you to."

Xander clenched his jaw. "You’re so damn sure of yourself."

Valeria chuckled, brushing a thumb over his lower lip before pulling away. "Of course, darling." She turned, already heading deeper into the mansion. "Now, come. We have a date, remember?"

Xander exhaled harshly, rolling his shoulders before standing. The cuffs remained, the invisible leash still as tight as ever.

"A date," Xander repeated, watching Valeria’s back as she walked ahead of him. His wrists still bore the weight of the crown cuffs, a silent reminder of his place in her world. He could feel the smooth but unyielding metal pressing against his skin with every step.

"Yes, darling," Valeria’s voice was light, almost dismissive. She didn’t even look back. "You’ve been so patient today. I think you deserve something special."

Xander scoffed. "Special? Like another leash in a different color?"

She laughed, finally turning to face him, her dark eyes glinting. "Oh, Xander. If I really wanted to break you, I wouldn’t be giving you privileges."

They reached the dining hall, where a lavish meal was already set. The scent of grilled steak, fresh herbs, and wine filled the air. The golden glow of the chandelier cast flickering light over the table, creating an atmosphere of intimate luxury.

Valeria sat down first, crossing her legs with effortless grace. She gestured to the seat across from her. "Sit."

Xander hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying, lowering himself onto the chair. His fingers curled into fists against his lap, the cuffs preventing him from fully resting his arms on the table.

A waiter appeared, serving his plate with precision. The steak was cooked to perfection, the wine aged to an expensive richness. This was always the contradiction—he was caged, but never starved; restrained, but never neglected.

Valeria watched him lift his fork, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Aren’t you grateful, Xander?"

He chewed slowly, his expression unreadable. "I don’t know if grateful is the right word."

Her brows lifted in mock surprise. "No? Then what would you call it?"

He swallowed, his gaze steady. "An expensive illusion of freedom."

Valeria chuckled, swirling her wine glass. "You do love to dramatize things. But tell me, if I gave you the real thing—" she leaned forward slightly, voice softer but no less sharp "; would you even know what to do with it?"

Xander didn’t answer immediately. He wasn’t sure if she was taunting him, testing him, or something else entirely.

"You think I don’t?" he finally said, his voice low.

Valeria tilted her head. "I think you enjoy the fight more than the escape."

A long silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken. Then, Valeria smiled and took a slow sip of her wine.

"Eat, darling. We have all night to argue about your freedom."

Valeria finally returned, her heels clicking against the marble floors as she approached the room where Xander had been left alone for hours. His wrists still bore the faint red marks from the crown cuffs, a silent reminder of how long he had been restrained. The moment her fingers reached for the lock, a small click echoed in the quiet space, and the metal fell away from his skin.

She stepped back, her eyes scanning him with quiet amusement. "Go change," she instructed, tossing a neatly folded outfit onto the bed. "You’ll wear this tonight."

Xander flexed his wrists, rolling his shoulders as he glanced at the clothing she had chosen for him. A tailored black suit with crisp lines, a deep charcoal dress shirt underneath, and a silver watch; everything exuding a level of sophistication that felt almost mocking to the man who owned nothing but his name. He exhaled slowly, picking up the pieces one by one.

"You plan every detail, don’t you?" he murmured, voice carrying that ever-present edge of defiance.

Valeria smirked. "Of course. A tamed Alpha should at least look the part."

He said nothing, only pulling the shirt over his head, feeling the soft fabric slide against his skin. Even after hours of being neglected, of feeling like a possession rather than a man, he dressed as instructed; because in the end, she always won.

At least he wear this

The night air carried a crisp chill as Xander stepped out of the penthouse, his sharp suit fitting him like a second skin. Valeria was already waiting by the car, her posture effortlessly regal, a vision in an off-shoulder satin dress that shimmered under the city lights.

He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, watching as she turned to him with a knowing smile. "Ready for our date?"

Xander tilted his head slightly, observing her with unreadable eyes. "That depends. Are we actually going on a date, or is this another one of your ways to keep me under control?"

She chuckled, reaching out to adjust his collar, her touch lingering just enough to remind him who was in charge. "Can’t it be both?"

The driver opened the door, and Xander exhaled through his nose before stepping inside. As the car glided through the city, he watched the streets blur past, wondering where she was taking him this time. He wasn’t given much information—only that the night required his obedience and his presence.

Valeria crossed her legs, her fingers tapping idly against her clutch. "I made a reservation somewhere special. You’ll like it."

"Do I have a choice?"

She smirked. "Not really."

The car pulled up in front of an exclusive rooftop restaurant, where the skyline stretched endlessly behind glowing glass panels. Inside, the atmosphere was intimate, with soft music and candlelit tables overlooking the city. It was the kind of place that reeked of power, wealth, and silent deals made over fine wine.

A waiter escorted them to a private section, and as Xander took his seat, he finally understood. This wasn’t just a date. It was a carefully staged moment, another move on Valeria’s chessboard. The people seated at nearby tables weren’t just guests; they were influential figures, the kind who noticed everything.

She lifted her menu, feigning casualness. "Behave tonight."

Xander leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. "And if I don’t?"

Valeria’s lips curved in amusement, but her eyes held a quiet warning. "Then I suppose I’ll have to remind you why you obey me."

Xander smirked, reaching for the glass of water in front of him. Another night, another test. He wondered just how far she’d push him this time.

As the evening progressed, Xander found himself effortlessly slipping into the role Valeria expected of him. He exchanged pleasantries with the elites she wanted him to impress, his words measured, his demeanor controlled. But beneath the surface, he was calculating; watching, listening, storing away information like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

The dinner was a display of power, subtle yet undeniable. Valeria was the queen of the board, and Xander, whether he liked it or not, was the knight positioned strategically at her side.

When dessert arrived, she leaned in slightly, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "You’ve done well tonight. Consider this your reward."

Xander arched a brow. "How generous of you."

She merely smiled. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

____

A few nights later, Xander learned exactly what she meant.

It happened in the privacy of the penthouse, where the city lights framed the scene through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Valeria stood before him, holding a set of cuffs unlike any he had seen before. These weren’t ordinary restraints; they were crafted from dark, polished metal, engraved with intricate patterns that resembled the crests of ancient royalty. The crown cuffs.

His jaw clenched as she stepped closer.

"These suit you better,"

she murmured, fastening them around his wrists with a soft click.

A shiver ran down his spine, though he masked it well.

"I see you’ve upgraded my chains."

Valeria’s fingers ghosted over his pulse.

"You always were meant for something grander, Xander."

He exhaled slowly, his smirk never quite reaching his eyes.

"And yet, I’m still bound."

She tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"For now."

The weight of the cuffs was more than just physical; it was symbolic. A reminder of who held control. A warning. A promise.

And Xander, ever the strategist, knew that if he wanted to tip the scales in his favor, he’d have to play the game even better than she did.

The penthouse was dim, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the vast windows. Shadows stretched long against the marble floor, the only witnesses to what was unfolding. Xander stood in the center of the room, his wrists bound by the cold touch of steel. The first ten minutes had passed; silent, weighty, a countdown to something inevitable.

Valeria watched him with the patience of a ruler surveying her subject. She had let him taste that fleeting sense of restraint, not as punishment, but as a lesson. And now, as he stood before her, unbound yet still tethered to her will, she presented him with something far more defining.

The crown cuffs.

Dark metal, heavier than before, wrapped around his wrists with an undeniable finality. The intricate engravings caught the faintest light, a silent declaration of his place beneath her rule. This was not just about restraint—it was discipline. Submission to a power greater than himself.

His fingers flexed slightly, testing the weight, but he already knew the truth. There was no defiance here. Only expectation. Only order.

"You understand what this means, don’t you?" Valeria’s voice was soft, yet edged with authority.

Xander exhaled, slow and measured. He lifted his gaze, unreadable yet steady. "That I’m yours to command."

Her lips curved ever so slightly. "Good. Then wear them properly. You know the rules."

The air between them crackled with an unspoken power shift; one that Xander allowed, for now.

Did Xander enslave by her rule?

Yes, Xander was enslaved by discipline—bound not just by the crown cuffs, but by the silent expectations Valeria had set for him. He should accept the weight of her rule, not just physically but mentally. He should maintain perfect posture, speak only when allowed, and obey without hesitation.

The dim penthouse wasn’t just a setting; it was a stage where every act of obedience was measured, every second of discipline reinforced. The crown cuffs were more than restraints; they were a symbol of his submission, a declaration that his will now aligned with hers.

Xander should understand that this wasn’t a punishment, but a structure he had to uphold. His discipline wasn’t just in silence or stillness; it was in the way he carried himself, the way he responded to her presence, the way he learned to exist under her rule.

And above all, he should never remove the cuffs without permission.

Valeria didn’t lead her to his bedroom; she commanded. A soft tug on the chain linking his wrists was enough to make Xander follow, his steps guided by the silent authority she carried. The penthouse was unfamiliar to him, a stark contrast to the grandeur of her mansion. Gone were the sprawling halls, the endless luxuries, the tailored comforts he had grown used to. Here, everything was designed with precision, function, and control.

She stopped before a door, turning just enough to catch his gaze. “This is where you’ll sleep,” she said, unlocking it with a slow, deliberate motion. The bedroom was dimly lit, void of excess, a space meant not for comfort but discipline. A single bed, firm and unwelcoming, stood in the center. No extravagant sheets, no unnecessary warmth; just the bare minimum, just as she intended.

Xander hesitated, but another pull on the cuffs had him stepping inside. His breath was slow, measured, as realization sank in—this was intentional. She wasn’t just giving him a place to sleep; she was reshaping him, breaking his habits, forcing him to adjust.

“Get in,” she instructed, voice calm but absolute.

He lowered himself onto the bed, the unfamiliar stiffness of the mattress pressing against his back. Valeria reached down, securing his wrists above him, crown cuffs gleaming in the low light.

“You’ll learn to rest under my terms,” she murmured, fingers brushing his jaw in a fleeting touch before withdrawing.

Then, without another word, she left; leaving him there, bound, discomforted, and forced into discipline even in sleep.

Xander lay stiffly, his wrists bound above his head by the crown cuffs, the unyielding mattress beneath him a far cry from the luxury he once knew. He was a prisoner of her discipline now, a handsome captive shaped by her rules.

At first, he didn’t move. The posture was unnatural, controlled. His arms stretched just enough to remind him of his restraint, his back pressed flat against the firm surface, his body tense as if resisting the urge to adjust. Valeria had left him like this—not just to sleep, but to learn.

Minutes passed, the weight of discipline sinking in. His muscles ached, his mind wrestled with the discomfort, but he endured. Even the way he breathed was measured, his chest rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. But then, instinct kicked in; his body sought comfort, even in restrictions.

With careful shifts, he tested the limits. He turned slightly, adjusting his shoulders without disturbing the cuffs. It was a disciplined movement, one that obeyed the confines of his captivity while granting him a fraction of ease. His long legs stretched out, ankles crossing in controlled defiance. Even in submission, he carried himself with the poise of a man accustomed to power—a prince trapped in golden chains.

Sleep didn’t come easily, but Valeria didn’t expect it to. She had designed this night with purpose: to make him aware of his own body, to force him into a state where even rest became a lesson. And as Xander’s mind drifted, somewhere between wakefulness and surrender;

Valeria stood at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, her gaze unwavering as she observed the man before her. Xander lay in disciplined stillness, his wrists still encased in the crown cuffs, his breath measured. He had learned quickly; no unnecessary movement, no resistance, just obedience.

She let the silence linger before speaking, her voice smooth yet firm.

"This is not the beginning, Xander," she said, tilting her head slightly. "This is the core of your discipline. Every rule, every command, every moment you endure here; this is what defines you now."

Her words sank into him, their weight pressing heavier than the discomfort in his limbs. He had already been reshaped under her authority, and she knew it.

She took a step closer, reaching out to trace the line of his jaw with her fingertips. "Now tell me, my handsome submissive… how would you rate your satisfaction tonight?"

Xander's mind worked fast. The question wasn’t a mere inquiry; it was a test. The right answer would keep him in her favor. The wrong one? He had learned enough to know that punishment was never far.

His lips parted slightly, and after a measured pause, he replied, "Perfectly satisfying, Valeria." His voice was steady, respectful. A tamed Alpha choosing his words carefully.

A slow smirk curved on her lips. She knew he wasn’t just saying it to please her, he had been conditioned to feel this way, to find satisfaction in his own submission.

"Good," she mused, her fingers trailing down to his collarbone before retreating. "That means you understand. And because you do… I’ll allow you to rest. In our private space. My rules, your place of discipline."

She turned, dimming the already low lights of the penthouse bedroom. "Sleep well, Xander. Tomorrow, we are going to refine you further."

And with that, the handsome prisoner closed his eyes, fully aware that his discipline was no longer something to fight; it was his reality.

The dim lighting of the penthouse bedroom casts soft shadows across Xander’s form, highlighting the tension in his disciplined posture. He didn’t move; not because he couldn’t, but because he knew better. Every shift, every breath, every reaction was something she controlled now.

Valeria leaned against the edge of the bed, arms folded, watching him with quiet satisfaction. She had sculpted his obedience with precision, refining him from a defiant Alpha to a tamed one.

"Xander," she murmured, and the name alone made his pulse steady into submission. "You’ve earned your place… for now. But don’t mistake this as your peak. You are no longer just my handsome prisoner; you are my Tamed Alpha."

Xander exhaled slowly, absorbing the title. A step above mere captivity, but still bound to her command. He had been taught to accept, to adapt, to endure without question.

Valeria smiled, pleased by his silent acknowledgment. "And since you’ve avoided punishment tonight, I suppose I can allow you a choice." She moved closer, her presence overwhelming, intoxicating. "Would you rather rest as my Tamed Alpha… or shall I remind you what it feels like to fall back to the lowest rank?"

His jaw tightened for a split second, but he caught himself before hesitation could betray him. The answer was clear.

"I will rest as your Tamed Alpha, Valeria." His voice was smooth, unwavering; exactly how she had trained him to be.

She reached out, running a single finger along the collar of his shirt before pulling away. "Good choice."

The lights dimmed further, and as Xander settled into the disciplined posture he had been taught, he understood one thing; there was no escape, no rebellion. Only the quiet pride of being precisely what she had shaped him to be.

The morning arrived with a quiet dominance that settled over the penthouse like an unspoken rule. The dim lighting had not changed much; Valeria preferred control over ambiance as much as she did over him.

Xander woke to the familiar weight around his wrists; the crown cuffs. Locked behind his back, they were not just restraints but a reminder of the status he had been disciplined into. No longer just a prisoner, but her Tamed Alpha.

He inhaled deeply, adjusting to the discomfort with the ease of someone who had already accepted this as routine. The air carried a distinct aroma; rich lamb, melted cheese, and the delicate twirl of spaghetti. His stomach tensed in anticipation, but his instincts told him there would be a catch. And there was.

"Breakfast is served," Valeria announced smoothly, standing by the lavish dining area where a beautifully plated dish sat on the table. It was nothing short of gourmet; worthy of an elite menu, yet tailored to one simple fact: this was a premium pet’s meal.

Xander stepped forward, but he knew better than to expect a chair.

Valeria’s sharp gaze met his, daring him to react. "You may eat, Xander." Her voice was even, composed. "Right there." She gestured; not to the chair, not even to the table, but to the floor beside it.

He was special, yes. But never above his place.

Xander clenched his jaw for only a moment before lowering himself gracefully onto his knees. A Tamed Alpha did not argue. A Tamed Alpha complied.

As he leaned forward, he caught a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She was watching, analyzing. Would he savor the privilege, or would he hesitate and be demoted once more?

He exhaled slowly and took his first bite. The flavors; decadent, rich, undeniably luxurious; spread across his tongue, a contrast to the humiliating reality of how he had to eat it.

Valeria tilted her head, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Good?"

Xander swallowed, keeping his expression composed. "It’s perfect, Valeria."

Her smirk widened. "Of course it is."

He was being tested. And he refused to fail.

Xander lied. He had said the pasta was perfect; not because he didn’t like it, but because admitting how much he loved it would mean admitting something deeper.

But as he continued to eat, his body betrayed him. The sauce was addictive. The creamy, rich blend of lamb and cheese melted on his tongue, teasing his senses, making him crave more; not just of the food, but of the moment itself.

He swallowed, lifting his head slightly.

"Valeria,"

his voice was careful, controlled,

"allow me to use my hands. Just this once."

She arched a brow, her amusement flickering into something sharper. "You know the answer, Xander."

A quiet exhale left him. Of course, he knew. But it didn’t stop him from hoping.

Denied yet again, he lowered his head and leaned forward, bowing down to the bowl. His teeth caught the edge of the pasta, pulling it into his mouth without hesitation. A bite, then another. His lips brushed against the rich sauce, the warmth of it sinking into his senses.

Valeria watched, her smirk growing. And then; she laughed.

A light, effortless laugh.

For the first time that morning, his heart stirred. Not in rebellion, not in frustration, but in something far more dangerous. Something soft.

Because when she laughed, he didn’t feel neglected.

Because when she laughed, he felt... cared for.

Her fingers brushed against his cheek; not as an owner correcting a pet, but as a woman indulging something precious.

And in that fleeting moment, Xander knew.

He was in love with her.

Not because she had tamed him. Not because she had claimed him. But because among all the chains, she had never truly exploited him.

He was hers, and somehow, he was glad.

The sound of metal unlocking filled the air.

Xander froze.

His wrists, which had grown accustomed to the weight of the crown cuffs, suddenly felt light. Valeria had uncuffed him—just like that. No warning. No demand.

He blinked, processing the moment, before slowly—very slowly—lifting his hands. Fingers flexed, testing freedom. A privilege he hadn’t expected.

Valeria leaned back in her chair, watching him with a knowing smirk. “Well?” she mused. “Are you going to use them or have I tamed you too well?”

His jaw tightened, but there was no defiance. Just caution.

His hands hovered over the table, then, with the smallest exhale, he reached for the fork. A slow, deliberate movement. The cold metal felt foreign in his grip, and for a moment, he hesitated.

He had forgotten how simple it was to eat like this.

His gaze flickered up to hers, searching, but Valeria simply tilted her head. Observing. Waiting.

Was this a test? Or a gift?

He twirled the pasta around his fork and took a bite—chewing slower than necessary, as if to savor the moment. The sauce still clung to his tongue, still intoxicating, but now he could control the pace.

He swallowed.

Valeria leaned forward, voice smooth. “And? How does it feel?”

Xander exhaled, setting the fork down. His hands, though free, felt just as bound—because now, the true weight wasn’t on his wrists. It was in his mind.

“It feels…” His fingers curled slightly. “Like nothing and everything at once.”

Valeria’s smirk deepened. “Good.”

Because this, this was where true discipline lay. Not in chains. Not in force.

But in the fact that even when given freedom…

Xander still belonged to her.

Valeria leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching Xander with that knowing look; the one that made him feel both worshiped and utterly ridiculous at the same time.

"So," she began, tilting her head. "You remember what’s scheduled for today, right?"

Xander, who had just relished the newfound freedom of his uncuffed wrists, blinked. Scheduled? His mind raced, flipping through the mental notes he had on work, training, and—

His stomach dropped.

Damn.

Again.

Valeria’s birthday.

He had sworn; sworn;he wouldn’t let this happen after last year’s late message. And now? Now he’d gone and forgotten the date completely. He felt like the biggest fool alive.

She didn’t look mad. Yet. But that was the worst part. The disappointment was worse than any storm of anger she could unleash.

"I... uh..." He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t forget. I just—"

"You forgot," Valeria cut in smoothly, arching a brow.

He clenched his jaw, shame coiling tight in his chest. How could he be so careless? He needed to get himself together, needed to stop letting this kind of thing happen. He wasn’t just some reckless Alpha trying to earn his place anymore; he was her man. And if he wanted to live up to that, to break free from the title of ‘tamed Alpha’ and become someone worthy of standing beside her, he needed to do better.

"Next year," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "Next year, I won’t forget. Not this time."

Valeria smirked, stepping closer, her fingers grazing his jaw before tilting his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"You’d better not. Valeria’s man is quite an interesting title, don’t you think?"

Xander swallowed, feeling the weight of her words settle deep in his bones.

Yeah. It was. And he wasn’t about to take it lightly.

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