Absolute and forever.
19
I watch Emmaleen process my words—the threat, the promise, the absolute certainty that I will kill my own cousin if she walks away.
Her pupils dilate. Her breathing shifts from controlled to erratic. Her fingers dig into my shoulders hard enough that I'll have crescent-shaped marks tomorrow.
Good.
She should understand exactly what kind of man she's dealing with.
What kind of cage I'm offering her.
"Stand up." My voice comes out rougher than intended, but Emmaleen doesn’t notice. She automatically rises up on shaking legs, stepping back from the throne.
Her skin is flushed from neck to navel. The candlelight catches on the sheen of sweat along her collarbone, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Realization dawns. She's terrified of you.What? Something stirs inside me along with the threat that still hangs in the air between us. Invisible, but present. Something I haven’t sensed in more than a decade.
The cold.
The night.
The frozen ground.
Lorcan.
The girl.
Stop.
Emmaleen is nothing like that girl.
She isexactlylike that girl.
No.
Get out of my head, monster.
I slew that dragon many years ago now.
It’s dead.
“Pick up the collar and give it to me.”
Emmaleen does as she’s told without hesitation.
Two days. Not even two. One, basically. That’s all it took to get her compliant. To make her surrender. Willingly choose her own punishments.
"Lift your chin."
Again, Emmaleen obeys immediately. She tilts her head back to expose the long column of her throat. Her pulse hammers beneath her pale skin.
I place the collar around her neck with both hands, taking care to position it correctly. Not too high. Not pressing against her windpipe or the delicate cartilage of her larynx.
The buckle clicks into place.
I adjust the fit with clinical precision—tight enough that she'll feel it with every breath, every swallow, every turn of her head. A constant reminder of who owns her now.