From behind him, his body is shoved off of a long blade, and the man who holds the hilt sneers down on his victim. Then he arcs that sword up and slices it down so hard that I have to flinch away. A slow rolling sound crawls over the floor.
I force my eyes open and look up at the man now standing over me.
He’s leaner. His face isn’t puffy and bloated like it was when I met him. But there’s no mistaking the cruelness of that smile.
Boris.
The king’s crown lies in a puddle of blood while the head is now far from its body. Green eyes are empty and vacant.
Boris calls off the warriors with a small lift of his hand. The heavy marching halts, and a quieter parade of footfalls carries on.
Then he looks right at me.
The blood in my veins turns cold just seeing him again.
Except. . .
He lowers down to one knee and takes my little hand in his. The heaviness of his brow is a conflicting appearance that blazes terror all through me. His big hand snatches around my throat with gaudy, gold rings cutting into my flesh there. Only one thing calms all the terror inside of me:
This isn’t my hand he’s holding. This isn’t my reality. This is someone else’s...
Foreign rage spikes through my body, and I can’t justify these emotions as I look up at the man with the devilish eyes. Everything suddenly feels far away and cut off from myself. Unexplainable understanding slowly seeps into me.
Boris killed Rorrick’s father.
This is Rorrick’s memory. . .
“Long live the king,” Boris whispers to me.
“She’s cute when she snores.”
“You’re obsessed with her,” a quieter voice says.
“I’m not fuckin’ obsessed with her.”
“That why I caught your cat ass watching her sleep when I came in here? That why she has your shirt tangled around her?”
“That was just a random cat. And I’m a good fuckin’ guy?—”
“Such a good fucking guy, she didn’t even think about you when I gave her a reality break last night.”
An uncomfortable pause drifts in as my lashes flutter against the dim lighting. The strange dream is a haze in my mind, dissipating and slipping away as fast as it came.
“Who, ah—what’d she think about in the break you gave her?”
My eyes adjust slowly, and I spot the three of them standing at the end of the enormous bed. Seven’s lips are quirked into his quiet, sexy smile. Rorrick’s brow is lined hard with frustration. And Christian... he’s glaring at the both of them.
“Good morning,” I say through a yawn.
“Goodevening,” Seven corrects.
The soft bed dips behind me, and my chains rattle against my stomach as I lean back on my elbows and stare up at the sexiest wake-up call a girl like me has ever received. I should wake up to three men waiting on me every day. Is that too much for a prisoner to ask for?
“Time to take the leash off, Pretty Pet.” Christian’s metallic eyes shine like diamonds when he says those words.
My heart leaps. I tilt my head at him in confusion, but his slender fingers lift up, and a golden key is dangling before me. It dangles there just like my hope for freedom. He holds it in the palm of his hand.
He’s unchaining me. We’re making progress in our relationship. He trusts me now. We’re no longer worried about my escape.
