I point at him.“Don’t.”
“I said nothing.”
“You thought loudly.”
His mouth almost curves.His almost-smiles are going to be the death of me.
Then I see the black velvet folded over the chair near the window.The dress, The Marrow House, and the fucking fake collar.And just like that, the warmth inside me thins.
Knox feels it through the bond.He sits up slowly, sheet falling to his waist, and I try very hard not to be distracted by the broad chest, the scars, the muscle, and the mark I left on him.
I fail.Briefly, but then the velvet wins.
“I have to wear it tonight,” I say.
“I ...know.”His voice is already different.Colder, though not toward me.
He looks at the dress as if it has personally insulted every ancestor he has ever had.
“And the collar,” I add, sending a growl rumbling through his chest.
The bond flashes with rage so fast I flinch.Knox sees it and shuts the emotion down brutally.“Sorry.”
I turn back to him.“Don’t hide it.”
“I don’t want it touching you.”
“I know.”
“I want to crush it.”
“I know.”
“I want to take you somewhere far from that place and kill anything that follows.”
My breath catches.Not because the words scare me, but because they don’t.
I crawl toward him slowly, sheet clutched against my chest.His eyes track every movement.When I reach him, I stop close enough that our knees touch beneath the blanket.
“Say the thing,” I whisper.
His face tightens.Then his hand lifts, stopping in the air between us.I nod, and he touches my shoulder, just beneath the mark, thumb careful over my skin.
“It’s fake.”
“And?”
“You aren’t theirs.”
“And?”
His eyes hold mine.“You are mine because you chose me.”
The bond warms, and I breathe through it.“And you?”I ask.
His thumb stills.“I am yours because I choose you too.”
The words settle something inside me.“Good,” I say.
