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"Six."
The growl deepened.
"Seven. Those curvy ass cheeks are going to sing," he warned.
Anarchy put her hands against his chest and shoved him back...all of an inch. Crossing her arms over her chest, she huffed out an infuriated breath and said, "Fine," in a borderline snarky tone. "Begging your forgiveness, oh mighty Master, for my perceived infractions."
"Eight."
Jasper watched the count sink in. She'd seen him wield the sjambok before, and how effectively it welted the skin. He knew she'd watched the subs brave enough to take the lashes writhe and scream. Just the thought of lighting up her ass with it made him erect. His favorite toy wasn't a toy at all; it only took a fraction of additional force to cause damage rather than simple pain.
If Anarchy pushed the count over ten, he wouldn't use the sjambok. Her body wouldn't tolerate more than ten strikes, even at minimal strength. Risking any more than that would not only cause her physical harm, but more than likely tear open a rift in the trust they were building.
The stubborn set of her face eased, relaxing into submission. Her attitude calmed, and she let her arms hang by her sides, her chin dropping to her chest. Without a trace of snark, she said quietly, "I'm sorry, Master Jasper. I should have listened to Mistress Connie. I'll take whatever punishment you deem fit, but I'm not sorry for being there for Bodie."
That was as good as he was going to get, he thought. They could stand here all damn day and fight about it, but Anarchy was determined she'd done the right thing, and he couldn't completely disagree. So, he'd take the win in the same way she would take her punishment—with teeth gritted and mutual respect. "Thank you, kitten. Apology accepted."
He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Let's head to the waiting room. Hopefully, it won’t be long until there's some news. You can spend the time mulling over the decisions you've made this morning." And contemplating the next few days with a tender ass, he added silently.
"I'm supposed to go with Connie to get drinks for everyone."
Jasper looked around. They were alone now, the hallway empty. He could hear voices as the nurses went about their day, taking care of their patients, but Connie and Atticus were gone. "Looks like plans have changed. Connie will take care of it, and use Atticus as her pack mule. You are coming with me, no arguments."
She hesitated, then slipped her hand into his. That small gesture meant a lot, and not just to him, he suspected. He squeezed her fingers, linked them through his, then gestured with his free hand. "Lead the way, kitten."
"Yes, Sir."
*
Anarchy's emotions were all over the place. Jasper hadn't raised his voice, hadn't shouted at her or berated her for doing what she felt in her gut was the right thing for Bodie. Yet she felt chastised, even without the threat of the sjambok hanging over her head.
She dragged her feet along the vinyl floor as she guided him to the waiting room, hanging back when he walked inside to greet Liam and Loki. A firm tug on their joined hands cut her reticenceoff at the knees, and she stumbled in behind him. Feeling awkward, she angled herself behind her Dom's body, using him as a shield.
"You found the little minx." It was the first thing Loki said, damn him.
"Causing trouble, apparently. Take a seat, kitten." Jasper drew her around in front of him, kissed her forehead. "Did you leave your laptop somewhere? You don't have your bag with you."
"It's here," Liam spoke up, picking her bag up off the seat next to him. "I moved it away from the door after you bolted, just in case someone tried to snatch it on their way past. You shouldn't just dump your valuables and run, sweetheart. It's a maternity wing, but that doesn't mean everyone who comes onto the ward is on the straight and narrow."
Archie reached out and took it from his hand. "Thank you. I appreciate you watching it for me."
Her skin prickled under the hawkish stares of the three Dominants. Hugging her bag to her chest, she chose a chair in the far corner and busied herself unzipping the bag, removing her laptop, and getting to work. Not that her head was in the game, but it distracted her from being the focal point of the room.
As the men began to talk amongst themselves, she lost herself in the creative process, keeping one ear on what was happening around her. Temporarily discarding the last project she'd chosen to work on, she hooked onto the hospital Wi-Fi, opened her work emails, and began scouring potential briefs for her next design.
One in particular caught her attention, and the minutes ticked past as she forgot where she was and why, so focused was she on searching through stock sites for the perfect image to front a popular bookstore's new and modernized store reopening. Her hands were steady as she pulled up the editing software she used religiously, but the thrill of starting a new campaign buzzed in her veins.
Building layers, the room around her ceased to exist. From a single image, Archie created a colorful, attractive first draft to send to the client for approval or rejection. She hoped vehemently that they wouldn't send it back—she was thrilled by the mysterious wonderland she'd brought to life, where books were literally the building block of the forest on the screen.
"Take a break, Anarchy." The club prankster, Loki, plopped down in the chair beside her and held out a soda. "You've been at it for nearly ninety minutes. I'm surprised your eyes aren't bugging out of your head with the strain of working on that crappy thing."
Jolted from her concentration, she scowled at her laptop, fought the urge to wrap her arms around her trusty workhorse, and took the soda from his hand. "There's nothing wrong with my eyesight or my computer."
"You have your nose pressed against the screen and you're squinting."
Annoyed, Archie sighed and popped the top of the can, sipping sugary goodness. Okay, she might have needed a quick boost. Rolling her head on her shoulders, she dismissed his concern. "It's just how I get when I concentrate. This chair isn't exactly my idea of the ideal work environment; it's not that comfortable."
"I suggest getting your eyes tested."
