Page 99 of Given to the Black King

“I own several.”

His gaze moves over every mark.

“The court will know.”

“That was the point.”

He bends to smell the line of my throat, careful of the pulse.

“They will know I caught you.”

“They will know I ran.”

His gaze meets mine.

He gathers me in both arms and stands.

“I can walk.”

“No.”

“That was not one of the agreed terms.”

“The hunt is over.”

“So you become unreasonable again?”

“Yes.”

He carries me through the west passage wrapped in his cloak, my thighs bare above torn wool stockings and riding boots, my shoulder and one marked breast visible above the fold.

The first pair of guards at the boundary looks at the wall.

The second pair looks at the floor.

By the time we reach the main stair, the entire hold knows.

I rest my head against his chest and let them.

At my door he does not put me down immediately.

His face turns into my hair. One long breath.

“The next time you run,” he says, “I will catch you sooner.”

“Then next time I choose the terrain.”

His lip lifts from his fangs.

“Good.”

He sets me on my feet.

I catch his wrist before he can leave.

“Torgan.”

He waits.