Page 13 of Throne of Ice and Blood
Suddenly worried that he’s going to put it back on me again, I scramble off the floor and get to my feet as well. But Draven only remains standing there in front of me, watching me with eyes I can’t read. His muscled chest rises and falls with what looks like highly controlled breaths.
Drawing a hand over my throat again, I watch him while shock continues clanging inside my skull. “You took off my collar.”
“Yes.” Even his tone is unnaturally controlled.
“You trust me not to manipulate your emotions and try to escape?”
“No.”
His eyes sear into mine like fire, and I can tell that he means that word with every fiber of his being. He knows that I will try to use my magic to escape now. But for some reason, he took off my collar anyway.
That unspoken question hangs in the air between us. The very silence seems to crackle with lightning.
“Why?” I manage to press out at last. It comes out like barely more than a whisper.
He draws in another highly controlled breath and tightens his grip on the collar. “Because if I have to see you in this collar one fucking second more than absolutely necessary, I’m going to start killing people.”
My heart flips.
The muscles in his jaw flicker as he forces out a breath and flexes his fingers around the collar still in his hand. “Outside this room, you need to wear it. If you don’t, they will torture you. But in here, when it’s just us, I will take it off.”
Before I can even figure out how to respond to that, he turns and walks over to the pale wooden dresser by the wall. After putting the collar into one of the lower drawers, he pulls out something made of black fabric.
“I couldn’t remove it while you were unconscious because I couldn’t be here every minute of every day.” He shuts the drawer and turns back to me. “People sometimes come in here to clean, without my knowledge, and I couldn’t risk them seeing you without it. But now that you’re awake, you can hide it yourself even if I’m not here.”
I stare at him, my mind still spinning with disbelief, as he walks back to me and holds out a rich black cloak.
“If you ever need to hide it, put this on,” he says, offering me the garment. “The cloak clasps at the front of your throat, and it hides the part where the collar is supposed to be. No one will be able to tell if you’re wearing it underneath the cloak or not.”
Reaching out, I numbly take the cloak. It’s soft and warm against my palm as I grip it.
“I’ll let slip that I’m making you wear it to humiliate you,” he continues. “It’s in my clan color, so people will just think that it’s my way of reminding you that I own you now.”
I drag in an unsteady breath while I keep the cloak in a death grip. I feel like my head is ringing.
“Why?” I manage to press out. “Why are you doing this?”
His eyes soften for a fraction of a second. Then it’s gone, and he just blows out a small sigh instead. “I’ve already told you. Because you don’t deserve this.”
A knock comes from the front door.
I whip my head towards it while panic pulses through me.
But Draven was apparently expecting it, because he just nods calmly at the cloak in my hands. “Put it on.”
It takes me a second to pry it out of my own death grip. Shaking out the rich black fabric, I drape it over my shoulders and then clasp it at the front of my throat. Just like Draven said, it hides most of my throat from view.
Once it’s in place, Draven nods and then walks over to the door. From where I’m standing, I can’t see who is on the other side when he opens it, but it appears to be the person Draven was expecting, because he takes a step back as if to invite the person inside.
“Put it on the desk,” he commands, his voice dripping with authority. Then he raises a hand and points towards the bedroom I’m standing in. “And then clean up the mess on the floor.”
My gaze flits to the shattered glass and steel frame that apparently used to be an antique desk light.
A woman in a pale gray dress nods in acknowledgement as she walks past Draven. In her hands, she’s holding a tray full of food. My stomach growls at the mere sight of it.
After setting down the tray on the desk, she hurries into my bedroom. She doesn’t even acknowledge me. Only begins cleaning up the mess I made without a word.
Out in the living room, Draven snaps his fingers and locks eyes with me before stabbing a hand towards the tray of food. “Eat.”
