Chapter 142
Lysander’s pov
I backed away until the edge of the desk bit into the small of my back. There was nowhere left to run. The doors behind Darius were completely blocked by six feet of pureblood muscle and an aura that felt like a falling concrete slab.
My throat burned. "Get away from me."
"Or what, Lysander?" Darius took a single, measured step forward, the amber liquid in his crystal glass barely rippling as he set it on a side table.
"You’re going to fight me with the knife you dropped on my floor? Or are you going to use that anger blood you’ve spent your whole life trying to suppress?"
"Is this your breaking point?"
A cold, sharp voltage snapped behind my ribs.
He was mocking me. He was standing there in his immaculate suit, looking at me like I was a stray animal he’d backed into a corner, completely convinced that I was too broken, too terrified, and too weak to bite back.
I snarled and lunged off the edge of the desk, driving my shoulder straight toward his chest with every ounce of speed my muscles could pull together.
For a split second, I actually caught him off guard.
My shoulder slammed into his ribs with a heavy, sickening thud. The sheer impact forced him back two steps, his shoes skidding against the thick rug. I threw my right hook with everything I had behind it, my knuckles aimed straight for his jaw.
Crack.
My fist connected hard against his cheekbone. The pain shot straight up my forearm, white-hot and blinding, but I didn’t care, I saw his head snap to the side.
"You bastard!" I screamed, turning to throw my weight against the heavy mahogany doors.
I reached for the brass handle, my fingers wrapping around the cold metal—
A heavy, ice-cold hand clamped around the back of my neck like a iron vise.
Before I could drag air into my lungs, Darius yanked me backward. My feet left the floorboards entirely. He spun me around and slammed my back flat against the top of the carved oak desk.
The impact tore the breath straight out of my chest with a ragged, choked gasp. The heavy brass desk lamp rattled violently, an inkwell tipping over and spilling a black, wet puddle across the blotter beneath my head.
"A sharp little bite," Darius growled out.
His voice wasn’t smooth anymore. The polite, mocking mask had completely shattered. A thin trickle of blood was leaking from the corner of his lip where my fist had caught him, his eyes glowing a deep, terrifying blood-red in the firelight.
I thrashed against the wood, driving my knee up toward his midsection with a wild, desperate kick. "Let me go!"
He caught my knee mid-air, his grip crushing through my wet jeans until the bone groaned under the pressure. He shoved my leg back down, pinning both of my hips flat against the desk.
I threw a wild left jab at his face.
Darius caught my wrist in mid-air. He squeezed, his thumb pressing hard into the nerve cluster near my radial bone.
A sharp, electric shock of pure agony shot straight up my arm to my shoulder. My fingers immediately went limp, my arm dropping uselessly against the blotter as a high, broken whimper escaped my throat.
"Is this what Drake taught you?" Darius purred, his heavy frame leaning down until his chest was crushing mine, trapping me completely against the wood. His breath smelled of bitter blood-wine and copper. "To lash out like a feral dog when you’re cornered?"
"I’ll kill you," I choked through my teeth, tears of pain and fury blurring my vision as I tried to wriggle my other arm free. "Drake will tear this whole place to the ground—"
"Drake isn’t here, Lysander. And in case you haven’t noticed, I am the one who is here." He snarled.
Darius reached down with his free hand, his long, pale fingers locking around my throat. He didn’t cut off my air completely but he reminded me that a single snap of his wrist would end my life before I could scream again.
My body went rigid, too afraid to move.
"Look at me," Darius commanded softly.
I tried to keep my eyes closed, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached, but his thumb pressed deeper into my neck, forcing my head back against the ink-stained leather blotter. I opened my eyes.
Darius was looking down at me, his red eyes burning with a cruel, intoxicating victory. The blood on his lip made him look grotesque, a predator enjoying the exact moment his prey stopped fighting the jaws.
"You brought yourself here," Darius whispered, his thumb tracing the sharp line of my jawline, leaving a smear of dark ink and cold sweat against my skin. "You broke his wards. You abandoned his sanctuary. You came to me because you know, deep down, that you are too broken for him to fix."
"No..." I rasped out, a single, hot tear slipping down the side of my face, mixing with the spilled ink pooling beneath my head.
"Yes," Darius insisted, his voice dipping into that poison-laced purr that made my skin crawl. "He built a cage and called it a home. He looked at you and saw a shattered doll he could keep on a shelf. But here... here you are exactly what you’ve always been."
He reached into his inner suit pocket with his free hand, pulling out a small, silver box. He flipped the latch open with his thumb.
Inside sat a thick, heavy collar made of dark, unpolished iron, etched with glowing runes that hummed with a quiet, suffocating pulse of blood magic.
A suppressant collar, designed specifically to lock down and drain physical strength until a captive couldn’t even stand on their own two feet.
My heart gave a violent, terrified kick against my ribs. "No... Darius, please—"
"Shh," he murmured, his grip on my neck tightening just enough to pin my head flat against the desk. "It’s time to stop fighting, little bird."
I thrashed with every last ounce of strength left in my body, dragging my heels against the wood, trying to twist my head away from the cold iron. "Drake! Drake!"
The name tore out of my throat, a raw, desperate scream that echoed off the high ceiling of the study.
Darius didn’t hesitate. He brought the dark collar around my neck, the iron cold as ice against my wet skin, and slammed the heavy lock shut with a sharp, metallic click.
The moment the runes engaged, the world went completely black around the edges.
It felt like someone had thrown a heavy, wet wool blanket over my brain. My muscles went soft, my legs turning to lead, the air draining out of my lungs until I couldn’t even hold my head up against the desk.
Darius slowly eased his hand off my throat, stepping back as I lay there, panting in short, shallow gasps, my eyes wide, dark, and completely hollow.
"There," Darius purred, smoothing the lapels of his suit jacket and wiping the blood from his lip with a silk handkerchief. "Much better, just as obedient as I know you."