My hand wraps around her throat. I don’t apply any pressure, but I need her attention right now. “Flame, do you remember me?”
“Of course. You kidnapped me, drugged me, and most infuriatingly, you refuse to die.”
“Ember,” I repeat, a bit louder. I’m dangerously close to losing my temper. “What were you dreaming about?”
“I don’t remember.”
Fucking liar.I can see the flickers of confusion in her gaze—she remembered the necklace,ournecklace. I don’t know if that means she remembered me, but…
“Try not to give me a reason to punish you when you’ve just woken up, Flame. I need to feed you and bathe you before you start accruing punishments.”
Her jaw tightens. “Fuck you.”
I’m almost relieved to see that my sassy, take-no-shit girl is back. I’ve missed her. “Soon, Flame. What necklace? Answer honestly, for the sake of your pussy and ass.”
Defeat flashes through her eyes, and it only makes my irritation rise. “Talk.”
“I only remember a silver chain,” she says begrudgingly. “A constellation and diamonds. That’s all.”
I search her expression for any signs of deceit but come up empty. I think she’s being truthful, but nevertheless, a warm wash of hope heats my blood.
She remembered the necklace I gave her. That means she could start remembering other things about me, too. Maybe spending time with me is starting to jog her memories.
“Alright,” I say. “Shower, then I believe it’s time to give you a grand tour of the Nighthawk’s fortress, starting out with lunch in the dining room.” I grin. “You’ll love it.”
Taking Ember to the dining hall might’ve been a premature move. I realize this as soon as we walk into the room, and slowly, every conversation dies out. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s a girl, or because people have heard of her callsign. Scarlett had a similar effect on the room when she first came down here, so I hope it’s the former, because the latter might mean trouble. In either case, I don’t appreciate the dozens of male gazes glued to her.
The dining hall is the same cavern of stone and timber I’ve walked through a thousand times, but I don’t miss how Ember’s eyes flit over the space, careful and analytical. High ceilings stretch overhead, held up by thick pillars that disappear into the dim rafters. Windows along the far wall catch daylight that mixes with the warm, muted glow from the overhead fixtures. The combination softens the severity of the room.
Metal roundtables fill the space in a layout that looks chaotic to an untrained eye, but really, the seating arrangements are unit-based and methodical. I scan the room out of habit, noting who’s here, who’s missing, who’s sitting where they shouldn’t be.
I steer Ember towards my usual table, with Greyson and his unit. I have my own units to look after, but I’m not as close with those guys as I am with Greyson and his crew. My men are just soldiers; him and his are actually friends.
Scarlett’s at the table, seated on Greyson’s lap. She watches Ember with a jaded sense of curiosity, and when Greyson murmurs something in her ear, she nods.
“Try not to start any fights or stir any shit,” I whisper to Ember. Then, I address the room. “Don’t you all have something better to dothan gawk?” My voice is commanding, and it has the desired effect. Conversation slowly resumes.
I weave between the tables until we’re at my usual one. There are two empty chairs around the circular table, so I seat Ember at one, drag the other closer to hers, and also take a seat.
“You’re brave,” Greyson comments offhandedly. “Bringing her here so soon. Scar only tried to kill me once, and I took my damn time introducing her to the guys.”
He’s right; this is a risky move, but I think it’s better to get it out of the way sooner rather than later. “Thanks for the comment. In the future, keep inside thoughts to yourself.” I turn to Ember. “These dickbags are my friends.”
One of her perfect eyebrows arch. “You have the capacity for making friends?”
Elijah snorts. “I like her.”
I’m sure he does. Ember’s fucking fantastic. Still… “Keep your liking to yourself.” She’s mine to like.
This level of possessiveness is a whole new ballgame for me. I was alwaysprotectiveof Ember, but now… I don’t even like thethoughtof another man looking at her, let alone admiring her. Not to be a juvenile prick about it, but I licked her, so she’s mine.
“Possessive motherfucker,” Grey mutters.
Scarlett takes the opportunity to interject. “Hi, I’m Scarlett.”
“I know,” Ember replies, gazing at her with vague interest. “Have you been Stockholm Syndromed, or is he forcing you to sit on his lap?”
All the color drains from Scarlett’s face, and she shrinks back into Greyson, who looks at Ember with murder in his eyes.
