Command

Chapter 5

If there was one thing Ethan Aviel Scaforte could never resist, it was a line he wasn’t supposed to cross.

And Araxie Gryec? She was a walking wall of NO ENTRY signs. A fortress in uniform. A living dare.

Ethan had tried public tantrums. He’d tried baiting her with gossip, scandal, and half-naked club dances. None of it made her flinch.

So maybe it was time to try something more dangerous.
Something more intimate.

It started at another industry event a luxurious night photoshoot at a beachfront villa. Ethan was in a sheer designer robe, his hair wet from ocean mist, his skin glowing under the lights.

Araxie, of course, stood nearby like a ghost in black, watching the shadows for any sign of threat.

As the cameras clicked and Ethan worked his angles, he caught her watching. Not with hunger she never looked at him like that but with that same cold, surgical focus that made him want to scream.

Or kiss her. Or slap her. Or all three.

When the last shutter snapped, Ethan swept past the crew barefoot, still dripping saltwater and marched straight to Araxie.

“Car’s ready, Mr. Scaforte,” she said, eyes flicking over his damp robe. Her gaze brushed his throat the new diamond choker, his earrings, the droplets running down his chest and then away again. Controlled. Always.

Ethan’s heart raced. He pushed closer. “You ever get tired?”

Araxie blinked. “Of what?”

He smirked that devilish tilt of his lips that turned gossip columnists into feral hyenas. “Of pretending you’re not curious about me.”

She didn’t flinch. “I’m not curious. I’m responsible.”

Ethan leaned in so close his breath ghosted over her jaw. “No one’s that cold, General.”

She grabbed his wrist just firmly enough to stop him from stepping any closer. Her fingers were warm. Infuriatingly steady.

“Car. Now.”

Ethan tilted his head, lips curling into a wicked smile. “Or what?”

Back at the villa they’d rented for the shoot, Araxie checked every exit. Every window. It was routine. It was her fortress.

Ethan, still dripping from the ocean, let his robe slip off one shoulder. He padded barefoot across the marble floors like a spoiled cat.

“You know what your problem is?” he said, trailing behind her. “You think you’re above desire. Above scandal. You’re not. You’re just repressed.”

Araxie glanced at him that subtle flick of her eyes that made his skin heat. “Shower. Dry off. You’ll catch cold.”

“Bossy,” Ethan teased, pouting. “Want to come help me scrub?”

She ignored him. “Ten minutes.”

“Make me.”

It slipped out before he could stop it and to his shock, Araxie pivoted. She walked right up to him, so fast he backed up until his shoulders hit the marble wall.

“You want a reaction?” she murmured, voice low, deadly calm. “You think you’re playing with something safe?”

Ethan’s heart thundered. He forced a smile— but it wavered. “I think you want me.”

Araxie braced a hand on the wall beside his head. Her other hand curled around his jaw, thumb resting just under his lip.

“Don’t test me, Ethan,” she said. “Not like this.”

A tiny tremor shot down his spine. Her thumb brushed his bottom lip the touch so gentle it made his pulse skip.

He didn’t dare breathe. “Why not?”

Her eyes bore into his cold, sharp, but flickering with something that made his knees go weak. She leaned in until their noses brushed.

“Because you don’t know what to do with me when you get me,” Araxie said, her whisper scalding his cheek. “You’d burn up.”

Ethan’s breath hitched but instead of backing down, he surged up, catching her mouth with his.

It was messy. A clash of teeth and saltwater and adrenaline. For a split second, he felt her freeze like the ocean pulling back before a wave hit.

Then her mouth crushed his.

Araxie kissed him like she wanted to silence him for good one hand fisting his damp hair, the other pinning his wrist above his head. Ethan whimpered into her mouth, hips arching off the wall.

This wasn’t like his club kisses. This wasn’t performative, something to make the headlines pop. This was raw.

He gasped her name against her lips — “Araxie—” and she shushed him with her tongue, swallowing every bratty moan. When she pulled back, Ethan’s mascara was smudged, lips swollen, eyes glassy.

He tried to smirk tried to throw one last jab but it came out as a breathless whimper. “Didn’t know you had claws, General—”

“Stop pushing your luck,” she growled. Her hand squeezed his wrist not to hurt him, but to remind him exactly who was in charge.

Ethan shivered chest heaving, robe half off his shoulders. “What are you gonna do, hmm? Punish me?”

Araxie’s eyes flicked to his throat. She leaned in pressed her mouth to the hollow of it. A bite. A mark. A promise.

“You keep trying to make me lose control,” she murmured against his skin. “One day you’ll beg for it.”

Ethan let out a soft, wrecked laugh. “One day? Try tonight.”

They didn’t go further not that night. Araxie pulled back, her breathing steady, her eyes cold again but now Ethan could see the crack in her armor.

It wasn’t much just a hairline fracture but it was enough to make him dizzy.

He stood there, trembling, lips red, robe clinging to his wet skin. “Why did you stop?” he whispered.

Araxie tilted his chin up, her thumb brushing that fresh bite mark. “Because you’re drunk on your own games,” she said quietly. “When you’re ready to play for real… come find me.”

Then she turned on her heel, grabbed her coat, and left him standing there heart pounding, mind spinning, mouth still tasting her kiss.

Ethan called his papa that night curled up on his massive designer bed, voice high and trembly.

“Papa, she—she kissed me. She bit me.”

On the other end, Arion gasped. “Did you bite her back?!”

“Papa!”

“Sorry, hijo. Is she… good?”

Ethan let out a tiny squeal, burying his face in his silk pillow. “She’s terrifying.”

Arion giggled. “So… are you gonna run away again?”

Ethan paused. His fingers brushed the mark at his throat the proof that for once, someone hadn’t bent for him.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his lips.

“No,” he said softly. “I think I’m gonna make her lose control again.”