Page 113 of Exiled Heir

Staring at myself in the mirror, I prodded the leather uncomfortably. It was stiff, not broken in. In the mirror, I looked like someone else, the house dog I had always accused consorts of being.

Angrily, I grabbed for it, unlatching it. I headed into the shower, turning it on and stepping in without waiting for the water to heat. My interaction with Cade had been an ice bath; the chilly water was nothing compared to that.

After rinsing off the day, I stepped back out into the steamy bathroom. The collar sat on the counter, brown and accusing.

A thought came to me, one I had to swallow and shake my head to dislodge. But it came back, circling me like a buzzard. I could see it now: Cade’s pale, long fingers, tattoos dancing over his knuckles as he latched the collar around my neck.

Would that have made any difference? Ifhehad put it there, what would the expression have been on his face?

Tightening my fist around the leather, I shook my head again. But that wasn’t how it had gone. I hadn’t been kneeling in front of Cade, staring at his face as he had placed it around my neck.

I stared at myself as I put the collar on. It was just another piece of clothing. Something a teenage goth could purchase at the pet store and wear to piss off her parents.

When I came back out, I expected to see Cade. Whatever temper had overtaken him had to have cooled by now.

Instead, the room was empty. I sat on the edge of the bed, debating what to do. I needed to put on clothing. I needed to go back out in the house and find him, have the confrontation that clearly we needed to have. Instead, I walked into his closet, finding clothes just my size folded neatly on top of the glass-top table in the middle.

As I pulled them on, I considered my options. I needed to wait for him. When he came back and we were in the privacy of his room, then I could ask him about that arctic ice, the thawing winter snows.

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I woke to bright morning light and Cade throwing clothing on my head. Startled, I batted it away, sitting up and glaring at him.

“Where were you?” I asked.

Cade looked terrible, pale and wan, and dark shadows lingered under his eyes. He hadn’t slept.

“Get dressed,” he commanded.

“Cade…” I stood, approaching him. He shied back, and I stopped, only six feet away, even though it felt further, like I had somehow opened the Grand Canyon between us. “Cade, tell me what’s going on.”

“What’s goingon?” He looked me over, a sneer pulling at his lip, his expression haughty and cold. “What’s going on is my consort is making us late for negotiations with the dryads.”

“I’m not your consort,” I said slowly.

Cade pointed, dropping his hand down when it started to tremble. “That collar says different.”

“What is it about the collar?” I asked sharply. “You were the one that’s been wanting me to wear it.”

“We are going to be late. Dress yourself, or I can forcibly dress you.” A tattoo vine, covered in rose thorns, curled out from under Cade’s collar, twisting up his neck and spiraling on his cheek.

I picked up the clothes and pulled them on. They were black, matching Cade’s, although his had a hint of gold decorating the hemlines. For the first time since I’d arrived, the neckline was low, a V-neck that exposed my clavicle and, more importantly, the leather collar I wore.

“You finally look like a consort,” Cade said. His cheekbones were sharp, sharp enough to slice glass. He turned away, placing his hand on the door.

Before he could open it, I crowded behind him. “I don’t know what this is about, Cade. It’s just a costume. I don’t like you going out on your own. We know that someone in your house—”

“Right now, all we know is that the wards have been broken. You haven’t even been able to find out if there’s another spy in the house, much less who the traitor is.”

Frustrated, I blew out a breath, ruffling the hair at the nape of Cade’s neck. He shivered, and I spoke to the back of his head.

“We’re still in this together. We’re going to find out who the rat is in your house. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s running a rat to ground.”

“We wereneverin this together,” Cade said sharply. “I’m paying you—this is not apartnership. Do you understand?”

Something inside me tightened, as though my wolf was growling and pacing inside my chest. Wewerea partnership, because Cade was my—no.

He was not my mate, and apparently, he was little more to me than Declan was. An employer. Once he got what he wanted—me, collared—I was nothing more than a paycheck he had to sign at the end of the job.

Fine. He wanted to reveal his true colors? I could be professional. After all, that was why he had hired me.