“Or shit myself!” I add as inspiration strikes.
Disgust flows across the bellend’s face, and he recoils from me. Mabon jumps to his feet.
“I’m terribly sorry, your grace. Please excuse me while I see to my pet.”
The duke nods hastily. He pulls his legs up, away from me.
Mabon takes my arm and hurries us out of the room. It takes all my willpower not to look over my shoulder and smirk in triumph at the duke.
One nil to me, you bastard.
Chapter ten
We speed through the hallways of Buckingham Palace. Mabon sure can move fast when he wants to. It’s a struggle to keep up with him.
We reach his rooms and he barrels me into a sparkling white water closet. I’ve not been in here before. This must be his personal washroom. And I hate that it feels like a privilege to be brought here. A loo is a loo, for flip’s sake.
He tilts his head towards the porcelain toilet. The seat is gold. It’s probably real. Talk about decadent.
Mabon crosses his arms over his chest and fixes me with an expectant look. Apprehension coils through me. I have no idea how he is going to take this. The only thing I know for sure about Mabon is that he is unpredictable.
“I’m fine,” I confess.
He doesn’t look at all surprised. He opens his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it.
“Are you alright?”
His mouth snaps shut. He blinks. His eyes narrow. Silence coils around us. A weighted and heavy thing.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he says, eventually.
“Because you were scared of that man!”
The words spill from my lips. Powered by outrage and frustration that I can no longer hold back. They have barely left my mouth when I’m thrown against the white tile wall hard enough to knock the air from my lungs and make me see stars.
Mabon’s hand is around my throat, just above my collar. He is holding me against the wall. His amethyst eyes are narrow and furious.
“What power is this?” he snarls.
I wheeze in a breath through my constricted throat. “No power! I felt you trembling through the leash!”
Mabon’s eyes narrow even more. With his free hand, he picks up my dangling leash. He runs the thin silver chain over his palm. The thoughtful expression on his face is giving me hope. He is going to believe me. Everything is going to be fine.
He releases me and I stagger a step forward while sucking in a huge breath of air. His hand rests on my shoulder and he pushes me down onto my knees. What’s happening?
“Be still,” he says.
An icy cold tingles all over me. My muscles lock and freeze. I’ve been turned as immobile as a statue. Is my heart still beating? I’m not sure. Are these my last few moments? I never thought I’d die like this.
I can still move my eyes. They are the only part of me that is working. I look up at him. His expression is terrifying. There is nothing but darkness in his eyes. I whimper helplessly.
He pushes my jaw open. His cold fingers seize my tongue. Silver glints in his other hand. A tiny dagger, the size of a finger, is approaching my mouth. It looks wickedly sharp.
I force my lungs to make the loudest, most pathetic noise they can. Thankfully, it appears I can still move them a little. I plead with my eyes. I beg. I show all my terror and all my desire to do whatever he wants just so long as he doesn’t do this.
He pauses with the blade inches from my exposed tongue. Some of the darkness leeches from his eyes.
“I suppose you could wear a ball gag in public,” he says.
