Xavier returned home later than usual that evening. The house was quiet, unusually so, and as he stepped through the front door, he frowned. "Jemma," he called sharply. There was no response. His green eyes scanned the hallways, the living room, even the library, empty. A rare flicker of irritation crossed his features.
He moved through the house with deliberate steps, each one carrying the weight of authority. The quiet, the absence of her usual presence, grated on him more than he expected. She was supposed to be under his supervision, her movements monitored, her obedience unquestioned. Yet now… she was nowhere to be found.
Xavier stormed into the garden, shoes cracking against the gravel, eyes blazing. Jemma's laughter froze mid-air as she realized he was there, standing tall, arms crossed, the heat of his gaze like a physical weight pressing down on her. She had been talking freely to the gardener, leaning casually against the low stone wall, and for a moment she didn't move, trying to calculate if she could escape his wrath.
"What are you doing?" His voice cut through the air, sharp and heavy, devoid of patience.
Jemma's pulse spiked. "I… I was helping Mr. Grant with the plants," she stammered, but the defiance that had always lurked inside her flickered. She straightened, meeting his gaze for a moment longer than was safe.
Xavier's jaw clenched. That brief spark of audacity, the casual ease of her posture, made his blood heat. Her laughter, the freedom in her movements, all of it gnawed at his control. Possession flared in his chest, raw and urgent.
"Inside. Now." He took a step toward her, voice low and lethal.Jemma hesitated before following him. He took her to his room and got out a box from his drawer, the box contained, cigars and a lighter. Xavier lit one, he had noticed this hurt her more than the little punishment he always gave her.
Her heart hammered, but the defiance burned brighter than the fear. "I… I'm not—"
"Do it!" Xavier barked, cutting her off, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Now."
She stiffened. "No. I won't," she said, surprising herself with the force of her own words. "I've done nothing wrong!"
Xavier's fingers shot out, gripping her wrist with a strength that left her off-balance. "You'll do it," he growled, voice rough, unyielding. "Smoke."
"I can't! You know I—" Her words were cut off as he shoved the cigar into her hand. Panic clawed her chest, but anger flared just as hot.
"You will," he said simply, dark and cold.
Jemma inhaled sharply, trying to pull back. "No! I—this isn't fair!" Her voice cracked with frustration. "I haven't—what did I do? You can't just—"
Xavier's grip didn't waver. He pressed her against the terrace railing, forcing her to take the first puff. Her lungs screamed in protest, panic and fury intertwining. She coughed violently, choking on the smoke, shaking from the strain.
"You've got to be kidding me!" she wheezed, chest heaving. "Why… why am I doing this?"
"You defied me," Xavier said flatly, almost calmly, but his green eyes blazed with warning fire. "You need to understand what defiance costs."
Jemma's body trembled, sweat forming on her brow. Her anger surged over the fear. "Defiance? That's all this is? You won't even tell me what I did wrong! I'm supposed to just—obey blindly?!" Her voice rose, each word dripping with frustration. "You can't just treat me like this! You don't get to… control everything!"
Xavier's hand tightened on her wrist, but he didn't release her. His eyes fixed her in place, unblinking, intimidating, each breath she drew under his control feeding his fury. "Do it," he said again, sharper, more forceful. "Or you'll find out the next consequence."
Jemma's resilience didn't waver. Her lungs burned, but she took another puff, wheezing violently as her chest felt like it might collapse. Panic mixed with fury, tears pricking her eyes. The smoke clawed at her lungs, but she glared at him, frustrated, trembling. "I… I don't understand! Tell me! Tell me what I did!"
"Silence," he snapped, voice dangerous, clipped. "Obey. Now."
Her hands shook violently, but she drew in another trembling puff, lungs screaming, vision narrowing. Her body shook, adrenaline and fury mingling, until finally he stepped closer, pressing the inhaler into her hands and holding her upright. She gasped, wheezing harshly, chest heaving.
"Do not test me again," he warned, voice low, predatory. "I am not amused."
Jemma's tears spilled freely now, frustration and fear combining into a torrent. "I can't even… I don't even know what I did! You just—how can you—" She swiped at her face, trembling. "You have no right! You… you don't even—" Her words faltered as she realized how much she had just let out.
Xavier's jaw tightened, watching her struggle to breathe and still speak. His brown eyes flickered with something almost like… fascination, though he would never admit it. Her fire, irritated him, pushed him, and yet the raw honesty of her anger gnawed at something buried deep inside him. He wanted to mark her, to remind her boundaries.
Finally, her chest heaving violently, Jemma managed to stand upright. Her eyes blazed, chest trembling, and she glared at him with unfiltered intensity. "I won't just… sit here and take it! You can't scare me every time I breathe wrong! You—" Her words trailed off, caught between anger, exhaustion, and a flicker of fear.
Xavier's fingers flexed, his presence radiating threat. He didn't speak for a long moment, simply observing her, letting the tension settle, the weight of his fury pressing down. She had pushed past every limit before, but this… this had been a new line crossed.
"You overstep," he finally said, voice low, dangerous, deliberate. "Remember this feeling. Remember it well. Next time…" His hand brushed briefly, almost imperceptibly, against her arm — a reminder of control — and then he released her.
Jemma stumbled back slightly, trembling, frustration and fear warring inside her. "Next time?" she echoed, barely controlled, anger flaring despite the smoke in her lungs. "Next time I do what? Live? Breathe? Speak? You… you're insane!"
Xavier's jaw tightened. He said nothing more, letting the echo of his control linger. Her heart raced, her lungs burned, her body shook, and somewhere, beneath the humiliation she didn't want to give up.
She stared at him, chest heaving, mind spinning. She had survived, barely, and yet a flicker of something unnerving coursed through her: she wanted to know what she had done to provoke his fury. The boundaries he demanded, the ruthlessness he wielded, the control he exerted over her every move… it terrified her, and yet part of her could not look away.
Xavier didn't speak further. He turned sharply and strode toward the house, each step measured, controlled, leaving Jemma standing on the terrace, trembling, furious, and exhausted. Her chest heaved violently, but her mind raced with one unrelenting question: What did I do to make him this angry? And why does it feel like I can't stop thinking about it?