Chapter Twenty-Four
Lyra
Killian returns home late after a meeting, his mood pensive. I’m in the library, sipping tea and going through pages of handwritten notes on my manuscript. I really should automate everything, but I like writing by hand. It helps me remember things better, too.
“How was it?” I look up. I know he met with another member of The Eyes—a judge of the tribunal. Killian wanted to persuade him to vote in our favor.
Hold on, when did it become our? It’s his favor.
Except it isn’t. This whole thing was started because Killian hurt Silas in retaliation for Silas hurting me.
Killian just shakes his head. “Difficult. Come to the bedroom, please—I have something to show you.”
Please? When was the last time I heard Killian utter that word? He demands, never asks. Curiosity helps me to my feet
I trail behind him through the enormous penthouse and up the stairs. “You really shouldn’t have gone out so soon after your injury,” I mutter. “You could rip a stitch. Someone could come after you again—”
“Worried for me, Little Bird?” he sounds amused.
My cheeks heat, and I’m grateful he can’t see my blush. “More like worried for my own wellbeing. If you go down, what happens to me?”
“You’ll be protected no matter what.” At the entrance to the bedroom, he puts a hand on the small of my back and ushers me forward.
I freeze when I see what’s on the bed. A pair of metal handcuffs dangles from the headboard.
“No,” I say immediately. Being held immobile by cuffs is different from Killian holding me down, and it brings to mind memories that I very much want to keep forgotten. The night when he filmed the tape.
“They’re not for you.”
What?
I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud until Killian speaks again. “They’re for me.”
What the fuck?
I turn to look at Killian, wondering if he’s fallen ill. I reach up a hand to touch his forehead—he swats it away, amused. “I’m not sick. Look back at the bed. Bottom of it.”
Frowning, I do so, and see a sleek black iPhone—newest edition—sitting in the middle of the dark bedding. It nearly blends in with its surroundings.
“What… is that for?” I ask quietly.
“You,” Killian replies. “It has the highest level of encryption in existence. Not publicly available, of course. Nobody can access it except for you—not even me. Not even the best hackers in the world.”
Okay… “And… why are you giving that to me?” I’m more afraid than grateful. Killian has a reason for every step he takes.
Why the fuck is he giving a phone I can do all sorts of things on—if he’s telling the truth about not being able to access it—when my most recent escape attempt was just a few weeks ago? What’s to say I won’t use it to get back in touch with Tommy and run?
Except I won’t. I’ve put the kid in enough danger already, put him through enough by helping me already.
I feel too guilty for everything I’ve asked of him to call again.
I won’t speak to him for the same reason I won’t speak to Annalise; they’d both become pawns in the game I’m playing with Killian.
“Because monitoring every aspect of your existence, while calming and deeply satisfying to me, makes you miserable. And your misery doesn’t bring me any happiness.”
Selfish, in a roundabout way. Apropos.
“I understand your many… grievances with me. With the start to our relationship.” Killian spins me around and stares into my eyes.
I feel trapped under the force of his gaze.
It’s a physical weight, brushing over my skin, making arousal start to curl through my core.
My body’s learned to respond to him, despite my efforts to the contrary.
“And with the night I made a tape of you, especially.” He runs his hands up my arms, lightly gripping my shoulders.
“And for sharing the video with my enemy.” He brushes the back of his hand over my cheek.
“I never intended for it to get out, and for that, I am truly sorry. For sharing it, I’m truly sorry.
But I can’t apologize for making it. It was the best solution I could think of to keep you alive.
” I lower my eyes to his chest, unable to tolerate his searching stare any longer.
Even talking about it makes me feel raw and vulnerable, like somebody’s scooped out my insides with a rusty spoon.
Below the sea of pain, I recognize this moment for what it is: monumental. He’s issuing an apology, a genuine apology for his actions. It’s not half-assed or insincere—I can hear the ring of truth to his words. He means them.
“I can’t change what I did, but I can balance it out. So. You’re going to strip me, handcuff me to the bed, and make a film of me. Not of us, just of me. On a phone nobody can access aside from you.”
I meet his gaze again, startled. Am I hallucinating? There’s no way Killian would cede this sort of power to me. He’ll let me make a sex tape of him? One I could release—actual leverage to ruin his life and career?
“What?” I whisper.
“Consider it my apology,” he says. “I might hold much of the power in life, Lyra, but I’m powerless before you.
I want you with a desperation that steals the air from my lungs, and I want you to want me.
” He cups my cheek. “I think you do, but you won’t really let yourself, will you?
There’s too much bad blood.” He brushes away a tear I hadn’t realized fell.
“Consider this my official apology and attempt to make amends, Little Bird.”
“I…” don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to refuse altogether; this isn’t me. I don’t blackmail and gain leverage on people to control them.
But his words, his tone, his intentions strip me bare. And, as twisted as his offer is, it also feels right. It feels… equitable, even if it’s not.
“I will never let you go. But I want you to want to stay. I’m well aware that I’m a difficult man. That I’m cold, controlling, and callous. But for you… I’ll try to be better. Starting now.”
“I want more freedom.” The words escape my lips before I can think them through. Suddenly, his apology has turned into a negotiation, and the tension bunching my muscles makes me feel like I’m sitting across from him at a boardroom table, taking him on.
So far from the colony ant he used to call me.
“Within reason,” he agrees. “Until this business gets cleared up, you travel with me or with security that’s always within arms-reach. It’ll die down once the tribunal’s over.” Concern flickers through his eyes, there and gone so fast I’m almost sure I imagined it.
“I want your word that, no matter what, you will never use Anna against me.” I miss her terribly, I want to see her again, but I know I can’t. Not unless I’m sure it won’t put her in Killian’s purview.
“She’ll never be in any danger from me or mine,” Killian agrees.
“And I want you to start asking, not demanding.”
“Fine.”
“And I want to go on birth control—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “We both want children. I won’t let your concerns hold us back.”
“I’m young—”
“You’re the perfect age to become a mother. I need to secure an heir, and secure your safety. Being engaged to me is one thing; carrying my heir affords you protection that never could.”
I swallow. We can come back to that another time. Do I want to go back to that?
Jesus, this is a mindfuck. All of it. It’s so goddamn surreal to have Killian King offering himself up as a proverbial lamb to the slaughter. Giving me power over him, when he’s always been the one to hold the power in our dynamic.
“Are you sure?” I’m still half-convinced this is some kind of trap. That he’ll laugh and say just kidding, before handcuffing me to the bed and taking a video of me.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m sure. You need this. So.” He starts stripping out of his clothes. I pick up the phone and turn it over in my hands, opening it. Am I really about to do this? Can I do this? I’m not Killian. I don’t get off on getting blackmail on people.
But… this would balance the scales. It would give me what I need to at least tolerate being with Killian.
Tolerate? You crave it.
I really do hate that voice in my head.
When I find the courage to look back up, I see that Killian is stark naked, staring at me. What’s more surprising is that he’s hard. When he knows I’m about to handcuff him and film him.
“Uh…” my cheeks burn. “How are you turned on?”
“I’m about to have sex with the woman of my dreams. I can’t be in a room with you without being hard. Let me be the first to say, that’s extremely inconveniencing.”
“Oh.” I swallow, trying to ignore the way my mouth waters, and trying to keep my eyes on Killian’s. I have no idea where this sudden shyness is coming from; I’ve lost my modesty alongside my dignity during my time with him.
Did I, though? He’s always reiterated that dignity is a state of mind and a social construct, completely subject to interpretation.
It’s hard not to interpret being held a captive, spanked every day like an errant schoolgirl, and being treated like breeding stock as dignified.
Killian positions himself on the bed, near the headboard. I see lines of strain across his features. I’m sure every instinct of his is screaming not to go through with this, and he’s only doing it because he thinks it’ll help him with me.
And he’s right. This, as uncomfortable as it might be for both of us, combined with his earlier apology, is showing astronomical progress and improvement. It’s impossible to disregard or ignore something of this magnitude.
“I’m not going to handcuff myself, you know,” Killian says idly.
“I… yeah.” I place a knee on the bed, but Killian stops me with a tut. “Hard to do anything when you’re fully dressed.”
Heat flashes through me. “You were fully dressed that night.”
His jaw tightens, but he gives me a terse nod. “I take your point. But if you want me to… beg,” he grits his teeth, “I’ll be a lot more convincing if you’re offering yourself up.”