Chapter Seven #3
Krishka’s smile turns wicked. “A beautiful, blasphemous decoy.”
Knox turns to me. “No.”
I look at him as he drags a hand over his face. “I know. I know.”
Cruz mutters, “Growth is painful to watch.”
Knox ignores him. “If you wear anything around your throat tomorrow, I might not survive it.”
My heart stumbles. The honesty in his voice is brutal. There’s no control wrapped around it, no command, just truth.
I step closer to him. “Then stand beside me and remember it’s fake.”
His eyes burn. “And if I forget?”
“Then I’ll remind you.”
“That simple?”
“No.” I almost smile. “But apparently my voice reaches you.”
His mouth parts slightly, and heat flickers between us again. Slow and dangerous, but not enough to burn.
Aldron clears his throat, and I nearly throw something at him.
“We will make the decoy,” he says. “But only if Briana agrees to every protection we can place on her without compromising the illusion.”
“I agree.” Knox looks at me, and I sigh. “Within reason.”
“Briana.”
“Fine. I agree.”
Ari grins. “Look at us, compromising like emotionally damaged adults.”
“Speak for yourself,” Cruz says.
For the first time since the box opened, the room breathes again.
Krishka and Akasha take the collar away on the silver tray, their heads bent together, already speaking in low witch terms I don’t understand. Aldron orders the courier’s body removed and the wards checked again. Malichai calls someone named Tavian and uses a voice that makes even Cruz stop joking.
Planning resumes around me, but I stay near Knox.
****
An hour later, Knox turns to me and says, “You should eat.”
I blink up at him. “That was almost normal.”
“I can be normal.”
I look at the dried blood on his face, and one brow lifts.
“Sometimes,” he amends.
I laugh, and the sound surprises both of us. His gaze drops to my mouth, and the laugh dies slowly, not from fear, but from awareness. His eyes darken, but they don’t go black.
“You scared me,” I say and his face shutters. I touch his hand before he can retreat into guilt. “Not because of the horns,” I add. He looks down at my fingers on his. “Because I thought you might not come back.”
His hand turns carefully beneath mine. Not gripping and not holding. Just palm to palm, and my pulse leaps.
“I came back,” he says.
“Yes.”
“I will always try to come back when you call.”
Something fragile opens in my chest. I shouldn’t trust that. Not yet. Hell, maybe not ever. But I let my fingers rest against his for one more second before pulling away.
The silence that follows feels too full. Too warm.
I look at his hand, then his face. “What am I to you?”
Knox goes utterly still. Not blank or confused, but caught.
Every sound in the bar seems to fade around us. Even the voices downstairs. Even Ari and Cruz bickering in the background. Knox looks at me like I have stepped over a line he painted in blood and fear.
“Briana,” he says.
“No.” My voice is quiet but hard. “Don’t say my name like it’s an answer.”
His jaw works. I step closer, because apparently I am determined to set myself on fire tonight. “You look at me like I am something more than someone you rescued. You react to me like the whole world tilts if I bleed. You came apart because of a collar, Knox. Not angry. Not protective. Apart.”
His eyes darken, but I keep going before courage can abandon me.
“And everyone here knows something. Aldron. Cruz. Akasha. Ari.” My throat tightens. “They all look at you when I say certain things. They all wait for you to break when I’m in danger. So tell me.”
He says nothing but a slash of pain moves across his features. That hurts more than his silence.
My fingers curl at my sides. “Don’t make decisions about what I can survive. Not even kind ones.”
The words hit him like a blow. I see it. I want them to hurt.
His voice, when it comes, is rough enough to scrape skin from bone. “You deserve the truth.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I do.”
He looks toward the stairs, where the others have gone. Then back at me. “Not here.”
Anger flashes through me, hot and fast.
He sees it and lifts one hand, palm out. “Not because I’m avoiding it. Because when I tell you, it shouldn’t be with an audience waiting to see if I bleed.”
That makes sense, and I hate that it makes sense. I study his face, searching for the lie, but there’s none. Only fear and restraint. And something darker that keeps reaching for me without ever closing its hand.
“Tonight,” I say.
He nods once. “Tonight.”
“No more hiding?”
“No more hiding.”
My breath leaves me slowly. I should feel better, but I don’t. I feel like I am standing at the mouth of another dark room, waiting to see whether the monster inside will offer me teeth or truth.
Knox steps back, giving me space I didn’t ask for but need anyway. Across the bar, the silver collar disappears down the stairs with the witches. It’s not on me. Not yet. Not ever, if I have anything to say about it.
But something else waits around my throat now. An unknown something I can almost feel when Knox looks at me. And tonight, whether he is ready or not, I am going to make him name it.