Page 67 of The Chains You Defy

So, maybe Fig had a point, and I had at least some crazed and possessive tendencies. I didn’t mind. Because I’d finally gained the certainty that I was done suppressing my instincts when it came to my Nayana.

“Why are you wearing a manacle?”

“Perchance to see if you fancied a repeat of yesterday, but more experimental?”

Blood shot in my cheeks, and I couldn’t meet Dion’s eyes. The entire morning, my stupid brain had replayed last night’s events on a loop, about how I’d almost begged him to fulfill such a scandalous favor, and then, of course, about how he’d delivered.

The memory alone was enough for my stomach to be in knots, but him standing in front of me, smirking and throwing around dirty jokes? My frayed nerves and I were clueless about how to deal with the situation.

“Jerk. But fine, enjoy your fancy new bracelet until someone else takes mercy on you.”

“Ouch, you wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You’ll find out soon.”

“You wound me.”

“Pity. So? What happened?”

“When I went to the city today to execute revenge, we found out that Fe—he’d disappeared, and I wasn’t too happy with aborting my mission, which spoiled Fig’s mood as well.”

“Execute revenge.” Even though Dion was vague on purpose—either because he was reluctant to remind me of my past ordeal or because he wanted to downplay theevents—concluding what he’d hinted at was easy, and I narrowed my eyes. Torn between the wish to forget and the desire to get answers, I glared at him with what I hoped was strict disapproval.

“That’s a cute look on you.”

So much for getting my point across. “I’m not—hey, let me go. Godsdammit, Dion.”

“No.”

His voice was muffled because he buried his face in the crook of my neck. His arms clamped me in place like a vise, and his breath tickled my skin. A very unladylike squeal escaped my lips, and the bastard chuckled. His playful side had emerged once more, the one that didn’t possess even an ounce of impulse control.

“Princeling.”

“Come on. Take the cuff off and free me, Naya.”

Ugh, did he have to sound so husky? His next deep inhale made me squeak again, and the moment his canines scraped against the skin of my neck, I admitted defeat, patting his arm. “Then I’ll need your wrist. Can’t help you when you crush me.”

“Mh, but I like you in my arms.”

“Come on, Dion.”

With a sulking face, he let go of me. As I touched the restraint, a hot and cold sensation shot into my fingers, numbing my arm, and I hissed. “What in the gods’ names is that?”

“Hematite. Nullifies my magic. Might feel funny to you because of your Potential. Imagine this a hundred times worse—that’s the effect this thing has on me.”

“Do I want to know why Fig had those?” I wouldn’t be surprised if the males carried around anti-magic restraints in case they had to wrestle their unpredictableprince under control. Perhaps the notion of snatching these and using them at a later date wasn’t the worst.

“We found them. And no, you can’t keep them.”

“How, Dion?”

“You had that contemplative look on your face, as if you fancied an atrocious idea.”

“Ah, shut up and come here.” From a drawer, I fetched a pair of gloves—whoever stocked clothes for me must have assumed I was in need of ball attire—and within a few moments, I bested the rather complex locking mechanism. The shackle fell away, and after having taken only a single breath, I was enveloped in a six-foot-four fae once more—I still believed he was a couple of inches taller in his true form, but since he wore Glamour, I couldn’t confirm my theory.

His scent composition was different, dominated by shadows, and while I analyzed the phenomenon, Dion underwent some kind of shift.

The air he radiated was hard to describe.