Chapter Seven #2
I press the towel gently to his temple. He closes his eyes, just for a second. But I see it, feel it. The way his entire body seems to lean toward the contact while he fights not to move an inch.
A monster with manners. A beast with restraint. A man who thinks wanting is dangerous. Maybe he is right.
“You came back,” I say quietly.
His eyes open. “What?”
“From that. From your beast. Whatever you call it.” I dab blood from his skin. “You came back when I called.”
His gaze holds mine. “You called.”
Two words that hold so much inside them. The towel stills against his temple. A dangerous silence grows between us. Not like before. Not the silence of fear. This one has a pulse. It breathes. It presses against my skin and asks questions I am not ready to answer.
His hand lifts and stops midair. He is asking without words, and my breath catches. I know should step back. But I don’t, instead, I nod.
Knox’s fingers touch my wrist, lightly. So lightly I could pretend it didn’t happen. But I feel it everywhere. His thumb rests over my pulse, not pressing, just there. Warm and rough but so fucking careful.
My body goes still. Not frozen... Listening.
He feels the difference. I know because his eyes sharpen, because his breath stutters, because the hand around my wrist trembles once before steadying.
“Too much?” he asks. No one has ever asked me that as if the answer mattered.
My chest tightens. “No,” I whisper.
His thumb moves once. A small stroke over my pulse and heat spills through me, soft and frightening.
Behind us, the silver collar hisses, and the moment fractures. Knox releases me instantly and turns, putting himself between me and the box. I don’t resent it this time.
Krishka mutters something I can tell is foul even if it’s in a language I don’t know. Akasha jerks her hand back, shaking out her fingers as if burned.
“What?” Aldron asks.
Krishka’s face is grim. “The collar is not only a threat.”
Akasha looks at me, and I already know I will hate what comes next.
“What is it?” I ask.
Krishka answers when Akasha doesn’t. “It’s keyed to your blood.”
Knox’s shoulders rise, and I place one hand lightly against his back before I can think better of it. He freezes, but so do I. The muscle beneath my palm is hot and hard as stone. The contact should scare me, especially with his body still vibrating with barely contained violence.
It doesn’t. It grounds me. Maybe it grounds him, too, because the growl building in his chest doesn’t break loose.
“Keyed how?” I ask.
Krishka folds her arms. “If placed around your throat, it would bind to you, not like the crude restraints they used before. This is worse. Cleaner. Designed to suppress panic, weaken resistance, and make verbal commands harder to disobey.”
The room tilts, and my hand drops from Knox’s back.
No. No, no, no. Not again. Never again.
My lungs refuse to work.
Ari is suddenly beside me, not touching, just there. “Breathe, Briana.”
I try, but nothing happens, and the collar blurs in my vision.
A command collar for my throat. To make me quiet. To make me obey.
The bar disappears and the velvet returns. Hands. Smoke. Teeth. My own voice is trapped behind my tongue. I can’t breathe.
Knox turns, and for a second, panic flashes across his face so raw it cuts through mine. He crouches, not standing over me, not touching. He lowers himself until he is beneath my eye level, enormous body folded into something careful.
“Briana,” he says.
I shake my head, but I don’t know what I am denying. The collar. The memory. The fact that my body is betraying me in front of everyone.
Knox’s voice drops. “Look at me.” But I can’t, the panic has me locked in place. “It’s not an order,” he says quickly, rough and urgent. “A request. Only a request.”
That reaches me, and I drag my eyes to his. Brown, not black. Worried, not pitying.
“Good,” he says. “That’s good.”
My breath stutters in. Then sticks.
His hands curl into fists on his knees, like keeping them there takes effort.
“Name five things you see,” Akasha says gently from somewhere nearby.
I fucking hate grounding exercises. I really fucking hate that they work.
“The bar,” I force out, and Knox nods once. “The lights.” My voice shakes. “Ari’s boots. Blood on Knox’s face.” My gaze drops. “The collar.”
Knox flinches.
“Four things you feel,” Akasha says.
“My sweater. The floor. My nails.” I swallow. “Fear.”
“That counts,” Ari whispers.
“Three things you hear.”
“Traffic. Cruz swearing under his breath.” A wet laugh breaks through my panic. “Knox breathing.”
His eyes soften, and I hate how much I like that.
“Two things you smell.”
“Smoke.” My gaze holds his. “Rain.”
His throat works.
“One thing you know,” Akasha says.
My eyes move to the collar, then back to Knox. I pull in a breath, a real one.
“It’s not on me.” Silence pushes down around me.
Then Ari exhales, as if she has been holding her breath for years.
Knox closes his eyes, but only for a second. When he opens them, something in him is different. Not calmer, he is never calm. But focused. Deadly. Useful.
I wipe my cheeks with the heel of my hand before anyone can notice tears, but I know everyone notices.
No one says anything.
Smart monsters.
I straighten slowly. Knox rises with me but keeps space between us. My legs wobble once, and I choose to pretend they don’t.
Aldron looks at Krishka. “Can it be destroyed?”
“Yes,” she says. “But carefully. If broken wrong, it may alert whoever made it.”
“Then break it right,” I say.
All eyes turn to me. I look at the silver collar until the shaking in my hands settles into something colder.
“They want me wearing it tomorrow night,” I say, and Knox makes a sound of protest. I lift one hand. “I am not wearing it.” His mouth snaps shut. “But they think I will be scared of it.” I step closer to the box. “They think sending this makes them powerful.”
Krishka smiles slowly. “You want to use it.”
“I want to make them think it worked.”
Aldron’s expression sharpens. “Explain.”
I point to the collar. “Can you make a fake? Something that looks like this but doesn’t bind me?”
Akasha’s eyes widen. “A decoy.”