Page 49

I lick my lips. I can still feel the taste of him.

“You brought me here to torture me?”

“Would you like me to?”

“I might.”

I take a step forward, and his shoulders tighten.

“Don’t touch anything.”

I pause beside the steel tray and examine the blades. All of them are sharp enough to split skin without resistance.

I reach for one.

“I said don’t touch.”

I pick it up anyway, testing the weight in my palm. “This is a nice collection.”

“Put it down.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. The last person who decided touching Ilya’s knife was a clever idea paid for it with his life. I know how possessive he is about it. He hates anyone laying a hand on it. Yet here he is, glaring at me, ordering me to put it down and making absolutely no move to take it back himself. I don’t think he realizes what that says. I do. This obviously proves that I’m special.

“Do you use these often?”

“Are you fucking deaf?”

“I’m just asking.” I set the blade back carefully, exactly where it was. “What do you do in here? Practice? Experiment? Or do you bring guests?”

His eyes flash murder. “You’re the first guest stupid enough to get himself poisoned.”

I move to the shelf with the unlabeled bottles. Clear liquid in some. Amber in others. One that looks faintly green.

“What are these?”

“Sedatives. Paralytics. A few things that make people very cooperative.” His voice is clipped, vicious. “And one that would stop your heart in under a minute if you’re curious enough to try it.”

I pick up the green one and hold it to the light.

“Kento, I swear to God—”

“Relax, my prince. I’m just looking.”

“Put it back.”

I do. Then I turn to face him. “You’re tense.”

“Because you’re in my space, and I’d rather you not be.”

“You brought me here.”

“I’m regretting it.”

I take another step forward. He doesn’t move this time, but his hands curl into fists at his sides.

“Why did you save me?”

“I told you. You deserved worse.”