Page 55 of Given to the Black King

The claws stay hidden.

“Eyes open,” I say. “Both of us.”

He turns his hand beneath mine and closes his fingers around me.

“Yes.”

IONA

Iknock on Torgan’s door after midnight.

He opens it at once.

No coat. No boots. Black trousers and an unlaced shirt, as if he has been waiting without allowing himself to admit it.

His gaze moves over me.

I chose the soft gray dress because he watches me in gray. The front laces from collarbone to waist. I left my hair loose because I wanted to see what his hands would do with it.

He draws my scent in slowly.

“Iona.”

“I came to revise our terms.”

His claws press out beneath his fingertips.

“Come in.”

The room is warmer than the corridor. A fire burns low. The bed is large enough for a creature built like him, with a carved oak frame bolted to the wall.

I notice the bolts.

He notices me noticing.

“Necessary?”

“Usually.”

That does nothing useful for my breathing.

He shuts the door and drops the bar into place.

Then he stands behind me without touching.

One breath at my hair.

Another at my neck.

A growl begins low in his chest.

I feel it through the air.

“You are afraid.”

“Yes.”

His hands remain at his sides.