He was dressed differently from the night in the hall. The ancient, cloaked figure who had dissolved into shadows had been replaced by something that felt almost more dangerous in its modernity. A black suit, cut precisely to the lines of his body. No excess. No ornament. Just the quiet authority of someone who had never needed either.

Power moved with him the way weather moves. Not something he projected. Something he simply was.

His eyes found mine immediately.

And stayed.

I was still naked. Still hanging. Still dripping. Every inch of me exposed to his assessment and entirely unable to do anything about it.

His gaze moved over me once. Slow. Thorough. Then returned to my face with an expression that revealed absolutely nothing. No hunger. No disgust. No satisfaction. He looked at me the way a person looks at something they already own and are simply taking inventory of.

That blankness was worse than anything else he could have shown me.

"Impressive." The word arrived mildly, like a man commenting on the weather. His eyes moved briefly to the two wolves now scrambling upright at his side. "It's rare to see someone knock down my executive. You managed two."

"You." The word tore out of me.

He stepped inside.

I lunged.

The chains caught me immediately, snapping taut and wrenching my arms back with a force that dragged a cry from my throat before I could stop it. Pain pulsed through both shoulders as I swung forward and back, helpless, humiliated and furious.

He watched it happen without moving.

When I stopped swinging he was closer. I hadn't seen him move.

"Enchanted steel." He said. Not explaining. Simply identifying. "The daughters of Ashira forged them at my request." His eyes moved to the runes on the chains with something that might have been appreciation. "There isn't a wolf alive who can break them."

"I'll find a way." My voice shook with rage.

He looked at me for a long moment.

"No." He said simply. "You won't."

He began to circle me. Slowly. "I acquired these chains for myself." He said, his voice unhurried, conversational almost. "For the midnight hours when my beast consumes what little control I maintain." He stopped behind me. I couldn't see him. Could only feel the warmth of him against my bare skin. "But they were useless. My beast, Shael, always managed to break the walls he was chained to apart."

A pause.

"But they hold you beautifully."

My jaw locked. He was in front of me now, his lips curved in a slight smile and it angered me.

"Where is my father?" I demanded. My voice cracked on the last word. "What have you done to pack?"

"I kept my promise." He said. Each word placed with the same careful indifference. "Your father mourns and your friends are guests of mine. As is your betrothed."

Rowan.

The name hit me like cold water.

"Please." The word tore out of me before I could decide whether to say it. "Please, they have nothing to do with this. Let them go. I'm the one you want."

Something shifted in his expression then.

It wasn't softness. It was something sharper than softness. Something that recognised the desperation in my voice and noted it the way a collector notes something of value.

He stepped closer.

Close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating off him despite the cold. My body responded before I could stop it, the mate bond stirring traitorously, warmth coiling through places that had no business warming in the presence of the man responsible for everything that I'd been through in the past few days.

I hated myself for it with every cell I possessed.

"You are a problem." He said quietly. His eyes moved over my face with that same unreadable intensity. "A complication I did not ask for and cannot afford."

His hand lifted.

I went rigid.

His fingers hovered at my jaw. Not touching. Close enough that my skin reacted as though he had, prickling with awareness that had no right to be there.

"Touching you costs me." He said. Something moved behind his eyes. Gone before I could name it. "The bond the goddess placed between us ensures that every point of contact is its own particular punishment." His jaw ticked. "And still."

He let the word sit there.

"And still." He repeated, quieter.

His fingers grazed my jaw. The contact lasted less than a second. In that second the bond detonated between us, a violent electric surge that moved through both of us simultaneously, and he pulled back immediately, something flickering in his expression that he shut down before it became readable.

He turned away from me.

"Your blood turns out to be the only thing that keeps my beast from consuming me at midnight." He said, his back to me now, his voice returning to that particular flatness that I was beginning to understand was not disinterest but control. "My priest will continue drawing it. Regularly. Without your cooperation if necessary."

He stopped at the doorway.

Didn't turn around.

"You are mine now." The words arrived quietly. The quietest thing he had said. "Pray your blood is enough." He continued. "It would be a shame to discover it isn't."

The door closed, the lock turned, and I remained hung in the dark. I tried to hold onto fury instead of fear, humiliation and weakness.

Chapter 8 An Inconvenient Bond

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