“Someone you liked?” The question carried hesitance, vulnerability she rarely showed.
Jealousy looked lovely on her—the way her shoulders tensed, the way her eyes searched my face for deception, the slight downturn of her mouth. I wanted to tease her more, to draw out this moment of her caring enough to be jealous. But something in her expression stopped me.
“Not liked romantically.” I kept my voice gentle, honest. “Just possibly important. But it does not matter now. She is gone, and I have no way to track her.” I stepped closer, eliminating the space between us. “Only you matter, Violet.”
Her eyes lit up despite her obvious attempt to suppress the reaction, a spark of pleasure she tried to hide behind a scowl. She muttered a small apology about being “hangry,” her stomach choosing that moment to growl audibly.
I admired her features in the hallway’s fluorescent lighting—the exhaustion pulling at her eyes, the determination in the set of her jaw, the way she held herself despite being tired enough that most people would have collapsed.
She is a goddamn beast.
A fierce, protective, and dangerously possessive urge coiled inside me like a snake preparing to strike. My hands itched to shield her from every threat, every hardship, every person who’d ever hurt her or might hurt her in the future.
Which meant I needed to hunt down that shifter. The smell of blood on her meant a kill, and a kill on campus meant a possible connection to the unsolved murder. But I doubted the shifter would hunt during daylight hours. Predators like that preferred darkness, the cover of night when humans felt most vulnerable.
Let us wait. For now, I need to feed my volchok.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, feeling her lean into the contact despite her earlier prickliness. “Let us get you fed. And if you want. . .” I let the offer hang, watching her eyes flick up to mine with renewed interest. “I can show you that suspension tie I mentioned.”
Her breath caught, and I felt her body respond—a small shiver, her heartbeat kicking up, the faint scent of arousal beginning to bloom beneath her perfume. “Really?” She tried to sound casual and failed spectacularly.
“Really.” I steered us towards the exit, already planning the evening in my mind. “But first, food. Then Hyacinth. Then I will tie you up and make you scream my name until you forget every other word in your vocabulary.”
Her laugh rang out in the corridor, bright and genuine and absolutely perfect.
“Deal.”
Chapter 25
Violet
Pretty sure I had said never again, and yet here we are. . .The rope held my body like a lover’s embrace, tightening in subtle ways when I shifted my weight on the edge of Rowan’s bed. Each movement sent the cerulean fibers pressing deeper into my skin—not painfully, but with enough pressure to remind me I was wrapped, contained, held.
Safe.
The word whispered through my mind unbidden, and I pushed it away. Safety was an illusion, a pretty lie people told themselves. But the rope. . . the rope didn’t lie. It simply was.
“How does it feel?” Rowan’s voice came from behind me, soft and low, carrying that particular quality that made my spine straighten involuntarily.
I was in a sheer sleeveless black bodysuit, bound in blue rope that wrapped around my chest and torso in an intricate diamond pattern I couldn’t fully see. The tie started above my breasts, crisscrossing over my ribs and around my back in what felt like dozens of carefully placed loops. My arms were free—for now—and my legs dangled off the bed’s edge, feet barely touching the hardwood floor.
Rowan knelt beside me, his piercing eyes tracking my face with unnerving focus. He wore dark grey sweats and nothing else, his chest bare, his white-blonde hair slightly disheveled from where he’d run his fingers through it earlier. The energy in the room simmered—thick and charged, electricity waiting for a spark.
“It feels oddly comforting.”I heard the surprise in my own voice. “Relaxing, even.”
His mouth curved into a small smile, genuine and unguarded. “The Hishi Karada wraps around your body to mimic a hug. The pressure triggers your parasympathetic nervous system—tells your body it is safe, that you can rest.”
I tested the bonds carefully, shifting my shoulders. The rope held firm but gave slightly, adjusting to my movement without biting. “And you learned this. . . how?”
“Books. Practice. Trial and error on Marie Antoinette.” He reached for more rope coiled beside him on the bed—the same cerulean blue, soft and smooth beneath my skin. “I can show you more ties if you are interested.”
“I am.” The admission came easier than it should have. “Especially the one you mentioned. With the toy.”
His eyes darkened, pupils dilating slightly. “Ah, you mean the basic crotch rope tie altered to allow a toy?”
“Yes.” My voice came out breathy, and I watched him register the change with predatory satisfaction.
But he didn’t move to begin that tie. Instead, he began wrapping more rope around my torso, adding to the existing pattern. His movements were methodical, practiced, each loop placed with deliberate precision.
