His voice has turned low and dangerous. “Has he ever touched you before?”
“In the way that you touch me?” She’s challenging him again, daring him to react. “No.”
His eyes are dark, searching her gaze for secrets. “Mm,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Do you want him to?”
Her leg is trembling now from the pain. “No,” she says faintly.
“The next time you come to me, shall I send for him and let him watch?”
Her breaths come shallow. “I’m sure you’d like that,” she says through gritted teeth.
His gaze sears her, and for the first time, she sees the possessiveness burning hot in his eyes. “Listen carefully to me, Sam,” he murmurs. “I know you’ve had a tough time. I know you grieve your mother. I know you acted recklessly in your despair. Let it be a testament to your reputation and value to us that you are still alive after your transgression. But I want to make something very clear. You are bound to the same code as everyone else in Grand Central. Know that, should you misstep again, there is nothing I can do to save you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she manages to say.
“And as for Shakespeare.” He bends closer until his lips brush her ear. “If he touches you again,” he says softly, “I’ll cut his hands off. It’d be a shame, for such a talented alchemist.”
The hatred in his voice is so deep. She knows he means it.
“You’re going to kill him anyway,” she whispers.
“Then I’ll let you decide whether it happens quickly or slowly.”
Sam feels dizzy, feels the world around her threatening to cave in. At last, the pain in her leg becomes too much to bear. She pushes him away and jerks her leg back, trembling. When she looks down, she sees blue marks against her skin, the beginnings of frostbite. She puts her own handthere, but can’t transmute the bruises away. They will have to heal on their own, something Will knows.
Will’s hand comes up to curl around the back of her neck.
“Don’t forget who you belong to,” he murmurs.
“I forget nothing,” she whispers, and he kisses her.
