Chapter Eleven #2
Knox opens the door, and Ari pushes inside first with two bags and absolutely no shame. Krishka follows, carrying a long black case. Akasha trails behind with tea. Cruz appears in the hallway, takes one look at Knox’s bare chest and my flushed face, and grins like a madman.
“Well,” Cruz says. “Somebody got emotionally resolved.”
Knox lunges and Cruz vanishes down the hall, laughing.
Ari kicks the door shut with her boot. “Ignore him. He has twin issues.”
Knox mutters something violent under his breath, and I can’t help but smile.
Krishka sets the black case on my coffee table. “Before anyone eats or threatens relatives, we need to test the decoy collar with the completed protections.”
The warmth in the room dies, and Knox moves closer to me. This time, I let his hand settles at the small of my back. It’s no longer even a question. Not because he assumes, but because I lean into him first.
Everyone notices, But no one comments.
Smart women. Though Ari comments. Sort of... Her eyes go shiny, and she turns away abruptly. “I’m opening pastries.”
Akasha pretends not to smile while Krishka opens the case. The fake collar lies inside on more fucking black velvet. What is it with monsters and black velvet?
It looks identical to the real one. Silver, delicate, and cruel. A pretty lie meant to make monsters think I have been returned to their control.
My throat closes, and Knox’s hand spreads against my back, warm and steady. Not holding me in place but steadying me.
I breathe.
One.
Two.
Three.
“It’s fake,” I say before anyone else can.
Knox’s fingers flex once against my back. “It’s fake,” he repeats.
I step toward the case, and his hand falls away immediately. I instantly wish it didn’t. So I reach back without looking and take his hand. The bond flares hard enough to make my knees feel strange, and Ari makes a small squeak.
“I’m fine,” she says when everyone looks at her.
“No one asked,” Krishka says.
I pick up the collar with a shaking hand. Knox’s stands fast, but the bond tells me what his body hides. Rage. Fear. A protective instinct so enormous it presses against my ribs from the inside.
I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back carefully.
Krishka gestures to the collar. “It will react to the spell-word. Say it.” She hands me a piece of paper.
“Mordane.”
The silver warms but doesn’t burn me. A white pulse moves through the hinge.
Akasha nods. “Good.”
“And if someone else tries to activate it?” I ask.
Krishka’s smile turns wicked. “They scream.”
“Good.”
Knox’s growl sounds approving this time, and I glance up at him. “You liked that.”
“I like anything that hurts people trying to hurt you.”
“That’s morally questionable.” I feel compelled to point out.
“Yes.” There’s no shame in that single word, and I almost smile.
Then Krishka’s expression turns serious. “We need to fasten it.”
The room goes still, and my body says no before my mind can answer. No. No. Fuck, no!
Knox’s hand tightens around mine, then immediately loosens. “Briana.”
I look at him, not the collar. Brown eyes. A scar through his brow. Jaw clenched. My bite on his shoulder. My mate. Mine because I chose him.
“I need you behind me,” I say.
His breath catches. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He moves behind me slowly. His chest doesn’t touch my back, but his heat surrounds me. One hand settles at my waist only after I nod. The other stays open at his side.
I lift my hair, and my fingers tremble.
Ari comes forward. “I can...”
“I need to do it,” I whisper, cutting her off.
Her face softens. “Okay.”
I place the open collar around my throat, and my vision tunnels as memories assault me. Velvet. Smoke. Hooks biting into my skin. But Knox’s hand anchors at my waist. Through the bond, his voice reaches me before he speaks aloud, pulling me back.
I close the clasp with a small click. The memory is not, and my knees almost buckle.
Knox steps closer so his body is there if I choose to lean, and I do. My back touches his chest, and his breath shudders. The collar doesn’t tighten. It doesn’t bite. It doesn’t command. It simply sits there, cold, hateful, and powerless.
I open my eyes to find Akasha is crying silently, Ari is openly crying, and Krishka looks like she might kill anyone who mentions feelings.
I look at Knox, and he lowers his head until his mouth is near my ear, not touching.
“It’s fake,” he says.
I inhale. “It’s fake.”
“You aren’t theirs.”
“I am not theirs.”
“You are mine because you chose me.”
My eyes close. “I am yours because I chose you.”
His voice turns rougher. “And I am yours because I choose you too.”
The collar feels lighter. Not gone, but lighter.
I turn in his arms, and this time I don’t step away. His hands settle on my waist, careful even now. Especially now.
I look up at him. “I can wear it.”
His eyes are black at the edges. “Yes, you can.”
“You can see me wearing it.”
His jaw flexes. “Yes.”
“And remember.”
His hand lifts to my marked shoulder beneath the sweater. “I will remember what is underneath.”
Heat moves through me, sudden and intimate.
Ari drops a pastry, and Krishka sighs. “Mated couples are insufferable.”
Akasha wipes her face. “Completely.”
I should be embarrassed. I am, a little, but I also don’t move away from Knox.
****
The rest of the morning is spent preparing.
Ari helps me into the dress after breakfast, and for once, she jokes a little.
The black velvet slides over my skin, high enough to hide Knox’s mark from every eye.
The fake collar gleams at my throat. My knife straps to my thigh beneath the slit.
Charms are sewn into seams, tucked beneath hems, hidden in my hair.
War dressed as elegance.
When I step out, the room goes silent. Knox stands near the window in full black, hair tied back, face carved from restraint. His gaze moves over me. Not like the vampires did, but like he is reminding himself of every truth beneath the lie.
“It’s fake,” I say.
His eyes lift to mine.
“But you aren’t,” he says.
My heart stumbles.
Ari mutters, “Unfairly smooth for a man who growls at furniture.”
Cruz appears behind her. “He practices in the mirror.”
“I don’t.”
“He does,” Cruz says.
I laugh despite the collar, despite the night waiting, despite the fear.
Aldron arrives before sunset, and the room shifts with him. An ancient vampire wrapped in old grief and controlled wrath. His gaze lingers on the collar, then my face.
“You are certain?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “But I’m going.”
His mouth curves faintly. “Fair.”
Malichai steps up beside Ari. “We will be close.”
“I know.”
Akasha takes my hands. “If it gets too much...”
“I say the word.”
“If someone tries to bind you...”
“I say the word.”
“If you panic?”
I look at Knox. He stands close enough to touch, but not touching, just waiting.
“If I panic,” I say, “I call my mate.”
The bond flares, and Knox stops breathing. Everyone else suddenly finds something else to look at except Ari, who mouths, my mate, at Akasha and fans her face.
I point at her. “Don’t.”
She grins through tears. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Knox steps closer. “Ready?”
No. Fuck, no. Not even fucking close. But I don’t say any of that. I think of the lower rooms. The missing people. The blood records. The monsters who think the girl they lost is coming home.
Then I think of the mark on my shoulder beneath the dress. His mark.
“Yes,” I say.
Knox holds out his hand, and I take it freely. His fingers close around mine, warm and steady and careful as ever.
The collar is cold at my throat, but his mark burns beneath the lie.
And for the first time since the vampires took me, I walk toward the dark with a monster at my side and no doubt in my heart which one of us they should fear.