"And what do you think of this idea?"
Bellamy moves closer to the bars, close enough that he can see the intricate details of Ivah's tattoos in the lamplight. "I think it would be a waste."
"Of what?"
"Of... you." The admission comes out rougher than he intends, loaded with implications he's not ready to examine.
Ivah's smile is slow and knowing. "Careful, beautiful. You're starting to sound fond of your prisoner."
Heat floods Bellamy's face at the endearment, at the way it rolls off Ivah's tongue so easily. "Don't call me that."
"Why not? It's true." Ivah shifts forward slightly, the chains allowing him just enough movement to lean toward the bars. "You are beautiful, Prince of Mirn. Especially when you blush."
The observation makes Bellamy's cheeks burn even hotter, and he has to look away from those knowing eyes. This is dangerous territory—more dangerous than swords or armies or political intrigue. This is the kind of danger that could destroy him from the inside out.
"You're doing it again," he says quietly.
"Doing what?"
"Looking at me like..." Bellamy trails off, unable to finish the thought.
"Like what, little prince?"
"Like you want to devour me."
The words hang in the air between them, heavy with truth and desire. Ivah's eyes darken, and when he speaks, his voice is lower, rougher.
"Perhaps because I do."
Bellamy's breath catches. He should leave. He should turn around right now and never come back, should forget these midnight conversations and the way Ivah's presence fills every corner of his thoughts. But instead, he finds himself reaching for the key ring at his belt—the master keys that can open any lock in the castle, including the one that stands between him and the most dangerous man in three kingdoms.
"What are you doing?" Ivah asks, though there's no surprise in his voice, only a kind of satisfied anticipation.
"Something incredibly stupid," Bellamy admits, but his hands don't stop moving. The key turns in the lock with a soft click that seems to echo through his bones.
Bellamy pushes the door open and steps inside.
The cell feels different from within—smaller, more intimate, charged with Ivah's presence in a way that makes the air thick and difficult to breathe. Bellamy takes one step forward, then another, hyperaware of every sound, every shadow, every breath.
He moves toward where Ivah sits, reaching for the shackles around his wrists with trembling fingers. "Let me—"
The words die in his throat as his fingers find broken metal instead of solid iron. The shackles are split clean through, hanging loose around Ivah's wrists like decorative bracelets. Bellamy's eyes widen in shock as he looks up, meeting Ivah's dark gaze.
"Surprise," Ivah murmurs, and then he moves.
Strong hands catch Bellamy before he can even think to pull away, and suddenly he's being driven backward, his feet tangling as Ivah's full weight bears him down to the straw-covered floor. The impact drives the air from his lungs, and for a moment he can only lie there, stunned, staring up into those burning eyes.
Ivah settles over him, one powerful hand braced beside his head while the other comes to rest against his throat, thumb finding the rapid flutter of his pulse. The touch is gentle but unmistakably possessive, a reminder of just how easily those hands could end him.
Terror and arousal war in Bellamy's chest, his heart pounding so hard he's certain Ivah can feel it thundering against his palm. This is what the Barbarian King truly is—not the civilized conversationalistof their midnight talks, but something primal and dangerous, something that could break him without effort.
Bellamy breathes slowly, deliberately, trying to calm the frantic racing of his heart while Ivah studies him with those dark, considering eyes.
"I could kill you right now," Ivah says, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb traces the line of Bellamy's pulse, a feather-light caress that makes him shiver. "Snap your neck. Take your kingdom from you in an instant."
Bellamy swallows hard, feeling the motion against Ivah's palm. "You could do that," he agrees, his voice steadier than he feels.
"But you don't think I will."
