Page 103 of Maksym

“Your colors?”

“Green for continue. Yellow to slow or adjust. Red to stop immediately.”

“Hard limits?”

“Breath restriction. Blood. Magic. No marks above the shoulders.”

Bohdan nodded. “Soft limits?”

“Anal penetration with implements. Negotiated for tonight with check-ins.”

My spine went straight.

The words were calm. Clinical, almost. Not because what they described was without heat, but because no one was pretending the heat removed the need for clarity.

Bohdan looked toward the wolf. “And you understand her limits?”

“I do.”

“You understand the demonstration ends at once if she gives red?”

“Yes.”

“You understand that yellow is not a challenge to your ego?”

The wolf smiled slightly. “My ego has survived worse.”

“Encouraging.”

Another ripple of amusement moved through the audience.

Bohdan faced the crowd again. His expression remained pleasant. His voice did not.

“Let there be no confusion. The only way anyone plays in Obsidian is if these terms are clear and established in advance. Not assumed. Not implied. Not discovered mid-scene because someone felt awkward having an adult conversation before removing their clothes.”

A few people laughed. I did not.

I felt, absurdly, like taking notes.

“Only sober and level-headed participants are permitted in scenes,” Bohdan said. “Intoxication does not make consent more interesting. It makes it invalid. If our monitors believe someone is impaired, emotionally unstable beyond the bounds of safe play, coerced, pressured, or attempting to pressure someone else, the scene ends. If the behavior is severe enough, membership ends with it.”

His gaze moved over the room with soft menace.

“No appeal.”

Maksym made a quiet sound beside me. Approval, maybe.

I glanced at him. His face was turned toward the stage, severe in violet shadow, his forearm resting on the chair between us. The light caught the scar along his jaw and made it look carved rather than healed.

Bohdan continued. “As you know, magic is suppressed within this club. The wards remain. Consent sigils remain. Emergency protections remain. And without question, personal magic, compulsion, glamour, supernatural influence, and any ability that would give one partner an unfair advantage over another are dampened. Here, we negotiate as ourselves.”

My stomach tightened.

The wolf turned to the witch and offered his hand. She placed hers in it.

No one dragged her. No one arranged her with the bored entitlement of a person moving furniture. He led her to the bench with the solemnity of a ritual, then untied the robe at her waist. The white silk opened.

I stopped breathing for half a second.