Page 27 of Reforging Onyx

Tristan turned to Marissa, and the two of them started to chat in low tones about nothing at all, exchanging gossip that meant nothing to Onyx.

Onyx shifted again, restless and getting more agitated by the minute.

Tristan paused mid-sentence to look at Onyx. “You’re still new to this, right?” There was something Onyx clocked as pity in Tristan's voice that made him want to punch him in the face. “You’ll get used to it. It’s not so bad, after a while.”

Onyx scoffed. It absolutely was that bad. He was already starting to lose himself, and in Tristan, he could see the tame, docile pet he could become.

The pet he was becoming.

The evidence was there in front of him. Onyx might be collared, but he was unbound, and Dominic had left him alone over here without much supervision at all.

Would he be here gossiping about others, given enough time, a pampered slave who was comfortable being left to his own devices? Dominic had to have an eye on him, but Onyx wanted badly to get up and leave the room. Would he get into trouble if he did? If he went upstairs and sat on the bed and did nothing else wrong?

Definitely.

He glanced across the room, trying to catch Dominic’s eye as he fought to keep his breathing even.

He didn’t think he could do this.

How he could keep looking to his tormentor, the person who was guiding him into becoming the very thing he was terrified of turning into, for solace, he didn’t know.

Dominic, who had been watching him, apparently, beckoned to Onyx.

Onyx realized too late that the problem with catching Dominic’s attention and being gestured over was that then it meant he would be closer to Nathan — to Tristan’s owner — and he wasn’t sure he could handle that in his agitated state. He hesitated, looking from the other two slaves to Dominic and those near him, then back, the indecision clear in his expression.

He just wanted to be alone.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.

He didn’t want the only person he had to be Dominic — well, Dominic, and Shane. He did want to talk to more people, didn’t he? But he didn’t want them to be broken, well-trained, obedient slaves.

He was better than they were.

Which is why you’re about to run away from them like a coward?

His breathing was starting to come a bit quicker, and he froze, unsure of what to do.

“I think your master wants you over there,” Tristan told him, like he didn’t already know that Dominic had gestured for him.

His master.

Onyx’s eyes snapped to Tristan, and he glared hatefully at the other witch. “Yeah, and?” he snarled, his voice raising in volume.

The idle chatter around Dominic paused in the wake of Onyx’s outburst.

“Onyx.” Dominic's voice was calm, but there was a clear warning note in it.

Onyx took a deep breath, his eyes trained on Tristan — who shifted uncomfortably beneath Onyx’s gaze before looking to Nathan with an uncertain look on his face.

Onyx’s hands clenched at his sides, and he forced himself to take several more deep breaths as he fought not to lash out. It wasn’t the slave’s fault he was pathetic.

It wasn’t the slave’s fault that Onyx felt like he was looking into an unbreakable mirror of what was to come.

He stood up and turned on his heel, stalking toward Dominic.

There were too many people here for him to attack. But then, one of them might take him out if he presented a threat. If he severely injured or even killed one of them, they’d be forced to take him seriously.

Dominic would be pissed, sure, but that wouldn’t be Onyx’s problem.