Chapter 11 · The Golden Leash

"Stop fighting it, Nova. You're only making the leash tighter."

Kael’s voice was a low hum right against my ear, his breath warm and irritatingly steady. He had me pinned against the cold marble wall of his private study, his forearm pressed across my collarbone. Not enough to choke me, but enough to remind me that I was currently a guest—or a prisoner, depending on how you looked at the lock on the door.

I glared up at him, my teeth gritted. "Get your arm off me, you self-righteous prick."

He didn't budge. Instead, he leaned in closer, the scent of ozone and expensive sandalwood filling my lungs. He looked every bit the golden boy of the Sanctuary—white robes, flawless skin, that irritatingly calm expression. But his eyes? His eyes were doing something else entirely. They were hungry.

"You're shivering," he noted, his tone almost clinical. "Is it fear, or are you just missing the feeling of power?"

"I'm freezing because your air conditioning is set to 'morgue'," I snapped, trying to twist my shoulder. "And I'm not shivering. I'm vibrating with the urge to rip your throat out."

Kael chuckled, a dry sound that didn't reach his eyes.