Elle POV
I didn’t fight when Blake carried me back.
What would be the point?
His grip wasn’t cruel…
but it was unyielding, like stone molded by fire.
As if his hands themselves feared letting me slip away again.
When the room’s warmer air touched my skin, he exhaled shakily—relief, fury, and something else tangled together. He set me down onto the bed, but only long enough to reposition me.
Metal clinked.
Leather tightened.
He didn’t speak at first.
The silence itself felt like a warning.
My wrists were drawn above my head, fastened to something immovable. My ankles were secured apart—not harshly, not painfully, but with deliberate restraint.
Not punishment.
Not exactly.
Control.
Blake needed control.
His breathing was ragged; the curse pulsed off him like heat waves. I did
