The days blurred together. The outpost was a strange rhythm, a quiet pulse of desperation that throbbed like the heart of a beast trying to stay alive. Lira had played the game of power well too well and now the men at the outpost were like moths to the flame, drawn to her in ways she knew she could exploit. But it wasn't just Daryl anymore. It was everyone. They watched her. They whispered.
They wanted her.
And Lira had learned to make them wait.
It started with small things. The extra water. The choice cuts of meat. The occasional whisper of "I'll help you with that," a wink exchanged, a promise that didn't need to be spoken.
She was always careful to never give too much. She wasn't a fool. The minute they thought they could own her, she'd slip from their grasp. But in the meantime? She let them think they could tame her. She let them think they had control over her, even as she pulled the strings of their desire.
But it was that night.
The night everything shifted.
Lira had known something was coming. The tension in the air had been building, thick like smoke. She had seen the way the men looked at her. Not just as a survivor. Not just as a woman to be protected. But as something else. A commodity. A prize.
She'd wanted it to get to this point. Because she was playing a long game now. The longer they wanted her, the more she could control.
It was after dusk when it happened.
Lira was outside, sitting near the crumbling church steps, pulling her jacket tighter around her. The night air had a chill to it, but she didn't mind it. Her senses were always heightened, and she liked the quiet that came before the storm.
That's when Daryl approached. His silhouette was almost a shadow, outlined by the lantern light behind him. He'd been watching her for days, and she knew what was coming.
The question wasn't whether he would approach. It was how.
And she had already decided.
Daryl didn't speak immediately. He just stood there, his posture tense, waiting. But Lira didn't turn to him. She didn't acknowledge him yet. She wanted him to come to her. To make the first move.
It was a game. But she liked it. The thrill of knowing what he wanted before he did.
Finally, after a long moment, he cleared his throat. "Lira," his voice was low, almost a growl, but it didn't scare her. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her. She didn't need to look at him to know what he was thinking.
"You've been distant," he said, stepping closer.
Lira let the silence stretch, then finally turned her head, meeting his eyes with that slow, calculated smile.
"You know what I want," he said, his voice thick with desire. "I've made it clear."
Lira tilted her head, watching him for a moment. "Have you?" she asked, her tone sweet, innocent. But she could feel the hunger rising between them, and she liked it. She liked how he was so sure of himself. But there was something so fragile about his certainty, something she knew she could shatter if she played it right.
His breath hitched when she didn't move, when she didn't rush to close the distance.
"Come here," he demanded.
She stood slowly, her body inches from his now, but she made no move to touch him. Her eyes never left his, that smile still there, almost predatory.
"You think you own me, Daryl?" she asked softly.
His hands twitched, wanting to touch, to claim, but he held himself back. Not yet. He couldn't bring himself to take that final step.
"No," he replied. "But I think you want to be owned."
Lira's lips curled up at the edges. She took a step back, keeping her gaze fixed on his. "Maybe," she said. "But I won't let you forget who's in charge here."
That was when the game began. And Lira could feel it this intoxicating power, swirling around her, giving her more control than she had ever imagined.
She reached out, almost teasing, brushing her fingers along his chest before she moved past him. Her body grazed his, just enough for him to feel the heat of her skin, the softness of her curves, but she didn't stop. She kept moving, making him follow, just a little longer, just a little deeper into the game.
The tension between them was unbearable. Daryl was breathing harder now, his hands clenched at his sides, and Lira knew he was close to losing control.
But she was in no rush. She had all the time in the world.
They reached a secluded corner of the outpost, hidden by a dilapidated storage shed. Lira stopped, turning to face him. Her heart pounded in her chest, but it was the pulse of power. The rhythm of the game she had mastered.
"You know how this works, right?" she asked softly. "You come to me like this, expecting something. You think you'll take me. But I'm not the one who'll be giving. You are."
His eyes darkened with hunger. "You think I'll let you control me?" he spat, his voice rough.
She smiled. "I don't think. I know."
And in that moment, as he reached for her, his hand grabbing at her wrist, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "But here's the thing, Daryl." She paused, her breath warm against his skin. "You'll beg me for it."
His breath faltered. The shock on his face was worth more than anything else. Lira knew how to play this game. She didn't need to move fast, or wild. She didn't need to beg or plead. She needed only to control.
And he was already lost in the trap.
He grabbed her roughly, pulling her against him. His lips crashed down onto hers with an urgency that made her breath catch. She allowed it, allowing his hands to roam over her, but all the while she stayed in control. The taste of him was harsh overpowering but Lira's lips parted in slow surrender.
Her hands, soft and slow, explored his chest, feeling the hardened muscles beneath his shirt. She let him take her mouth, but the power was still in her fingers, in the way she slid them along his body, pulling him in, guiding him.
As his hands moved lower, she stopped him with a single push, her voice barely a whisper. "Not yet."
He looked confused for a second, and she took advantage of it. She stepped back, pulling him closer with her gaze. "You'll wait. And you'll beg. Just like I want you to."
Daryl's chest was rising and falling rapidly, his eyes wild with a mix of frustration and desire.
She wasn't done yet.
Lira moved behind him, slipping her hands around his waist. She felt his back tense, and she pressed her lips against his ear. "Tell me you want it," she said softly. "Tell me you need me."
His hands clenched into fists. "I need you," he growled.
Lira smiled, knowing that she had him. "Good boy."
And with that, she took control completely.
The night ended in a haze of passion, pain, and surrender. But as always, it wasn't about the pleasure. It wasn't about the sweat-soaked bodies or the desperate gasps.
It was about the power Seraphina wanted