He didn't even flinch. He caught my arm mid-air, twisting it behind my back. I gasped, my chest pressing flat against the rug. The smell of him—that intoxicating, dangerous scent—filled my senses. I was completely trapped, my body molded against his, the power difference so absolute it felt like drowning.
"Still so much spirit," Silas whispered, his lips almost touching the shell of my ear. "I wonder how long it'll take to turn that into obedience."
He found the paper. His fingers brushed against mine as he yanked the parchment from my pocket. I felt a sudden, sharp sense of loss. That paper was my only shield, and now it was in his hand.
He released me abruptly, and I collapsed forward, panting, my palms stinging from the floor. I didn't look up. I couldn't. I just listened to the sound of the paper unfolding.
"Let's see what you were so desperate to hide," Silas said, his voice now cool and distant.
I risked a glance over my shoulder. He was standing over me, the parchment held between two fingers. He wasn't looking at the words; he was looking at me, his gaze sweeping over my disheveled hair and my trembling shoulders.
"You think this gives you leverage?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "This is a death warrant, Ivy. If the Council finds out you have this, they won't just exile you. They'll flay you alive."
"Then give it back," I snapped, trying to regain some shred of dignity. I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my dress torn at the shoulder.
"Why would I do that?" He stepped closer, his boots clicking on the stone. He stopped right in front of me, the toe of his boot touching my knee. "Now I have something you want. And you have... well, you have nothing. Not even your father's love."
I flinched. "I don't want his love."
"Liar," Silas whispered. He leaned down, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up at him. His grip was firm, his thumb pressing into the soft skin under my lip. "You want someone to tell you you're worth something. You want to be seen. Well, I see you, Ivy. I see exactly what you are. A broken little thing trying to play a game she doesn't understand."
I hated him. I hated the way he read me. I hated the way my body betrayed me, the way my heart raced not just from fear, but from the sheer, suffocating intensity of his presence.
"I'm not broken," I whispered, though my voice cracked.
"Prove it," he challenged. He let go of my chin and tossed the parchment onto the table behind him. "Get up. Walk to the door. If you can make it without shaking, maybe I'll let you keep your dignity for one more night."
I stood up, my legs wobbling. I tried to steady my breath, trying to stare him down. I took one step, then another. The silence in the room was heavy, oppressive. I could feel his eyes tracking every movement, every tremor in my limbs.
Just as I reached the door, his voice stopped me.
"Ivy."
I froze, my hand on the cold iron handle.
"Don't forget," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "You're not a guest here. You're a debt. And I always collect my debts in full."
I turned to snap back, but he was already moving. He didn't walk; he blurred. Before I could even blink, he was behind me again, his hand sliding around my waist to pull me flush against his back. His other hand came up, fingers curling around my throat again—not squeezing, but claiming.
"One more thing," he breathed, his voice a dangerous vibration against my spine. "The contract says you obey. But I think I'll add a few clauses of my own."
He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear, and the heat of him felt like a brand.
"Starting with this: you don't speak unless I tell you to. You don't move unless I allow it. And if you even think about stealing from me again..."
He tightened his grip on my throat just a fraction, enough to make me gasp.
"I'll show you exactly how a monster handles a thief."
He suddenly shoved me away, the force of it sending me stumbling into the hallway. I scrambled to my feet, chest heaving, my skin still tingling where he'd touched me. I looked back, but he was already turning away, the parchment in his hand.
I reached for the door handle again, but a voice echoed from the shadows of the corridor.
"Is she behaving, My Lord?"
I froze. Someone else was here. And judging by the coldness in the voice, it wasn't an ally.