I was still reeling when Ian finally let go of my arms, his hands dropping to his sides as he straightened. Without the anchor of his grip, I tumbled sideways, landing hard against the base of the bed, knees digging into the rug that covered the stone floor. The echoes of pain from Ian’s leash trembled through my bones, mingled with the ache of old wounds and new.

Ian must have seen in my face that I was beyond the reach of fear or self-preservation; he had woken a greater, older force that replaced my desire for survival. I wanted revenge so deeply I could taste it. I stared at him through a haze of tears, and let him see every dark and festering feeling that had followed me for years, driven all of my actions as I sacrificed my soul for a greater cause.

He seemed to recognize that look. For the first time since I’d met him, he looked away, lowering his gaze to the floor. Maybe he was ashamed at how completely he’d shattered my defenses. Perhaps he didn’t have the stomach to look at the monster he’d awoken. Either way, it emboldened the fierce and hungry thing in my chest that bayed for blood.

“You could have just asked me,” I said, a sharpness to my tone that made him flinch. It was horrible, but I felt proud of it, to shake this man who had seemed so infallible when we met. “It would have been easier than dragging me halfway down memory lane by the hair. Or did you just want to see me suffer?”

Ian gave a soft sigh, inspecting the palm of the hand that had gripped my shirt, fingers splayed as if he had just touched something toxic. “I needed you to hear it,” he said without looking up at me. “I needed to remind you why you’ve become the thing you are now. And I need you to believe me when I say I can deliver what you want. I am not my grandfather- and I don’t want to be.”

“Well, you’re not doing a great job convincing me otherwise,” I snapped. I found the strength to sit up, on my knees as I leaned closer to him. As much as he’d wanted to drown me in my past, I wanted him to feel the venom in my words. “You came to an auction house to purchase me with your family’s money. You used alchemy powered by your own blood to forcibly bind me to you. And then you dragged me here and forced me to relive the violent death of my parents. You are exactly like your grandfather-”

“I am not!” Ian nearly exploded, lunging forward; I found myself pinned to the ground, the alchemist looming over me. There were frantic spots of color on his pale cheeks, his pale blue eyes seeming to glow in the dim. His large hands held my shoulders down, his knees straddled over my waist, and I felt a shameful stir I had been fleeing for years.

My voice escaped in a pathetic squeak, my chest moving in mirror to Ian’s- heaving in panting breaths as we stared at each other. For a moment his fingers dug into my flesh, and I shuddered, biting my lip. His mouth trembled with words he didn’t say, and in the taut silence I could feel the energy crackle between our bodies- a live wire, dangerous and bright, one I knew could burn away every line I’d drawn around myself. 

I hated him, but something primal in me- even dimmed by the medication I had swallowed so recently- needed him. And I saw in his eyes a matching desperation. As if, for an instant, I was the only thing holding him to this world. I could tell he hated that I saw it; his hands slackened the slightest bit, as if he feared what would happen if he ever lost full control.

It gave me the room to swallow, taking a fuller breath. My hands trembled, but I reached up nonetheless to wrap my fingers around Ian’s solid wrists. They were tense, and he made no movement to get off me, but his presence felt less oppressive. 

Ian’s breath shuddered out of him, painting my face in warmth. His mouth curved in a silent, joyless smile. “I’m the only chance you have,” he whispered, and then softer: “And you’re the only chance I have.”

I met his gaze, searching again for the lie- the trick, the trap that would snap shut the moment I unclenched my teeth. I found none. The bruises at his throat made him look more fragile, desperate, as if he needed my hatred to knit him together. The strange, shivering energy between us turned a corner, and I realized how alike we must look- both of us thin, pale, haunted by pain and hatred, held together only by the impossible tension of our mutual loathing and need.

My hands were hot on his wrists. There might be bruises in the morning. I didn’t care. “I hate you,” I said quietly, but it was with the resignation of submitting to whatever grand plan he harbored.

He blinked and, to my surprise, he nodded. “Good. Hate is a better foundation than most. I know it well.” At least, he exhaled slow and hard. When his hands left my shoulders, I felt cold in their absence, a trickle of traitorous disappointment curling in my gut. He drew back, kneeling upright above me, his expression wiped of all the polish and smug confidence he’d worn before. In its place was a haunting, burning clarity. 

“Hold on to that,” he said quietly. His wrist turned, Ian gathering up the links of the ghosty chain around his fingers until it was taught; I had to fight the tension to keep my head back against the floor. I could have tried to break free if I wanted to, tried to toss him off and reclaim my dignity… but I didn’t want to, staring up at his cold eyes that masked a wealth of humanity he clearly didn’t want to show me. 

“I need you to hate me,” Ian continued, his words at odds with the vulnerability that had crossed his expression so many times, “I need you to remember the pain I caused you. You can’t forget the things that have driven you for all these years. You’ll need something to ground you when we hone your power into a weapon.”

A cold chill ran down my spine, the fine hairs at the back of my neck standing on end. “I won’t-”

“You will,” Ian insisted, his tone solemn but unforgiving as he gave a slight tug on the leash that drew me an inch off the floor. He pulled harder, dragging me up until I was nearly face to face with him. “I will try to treat you well, but remember whose leash you are on. Remember that you won’t be free until my grandfather’s corpse lies at your feet. I will give you all of the bloodshed and death you could ever crave, I will feed you my people until you are satisfied. And you will give me my freedom.”

There was no mistaking the promise in his eyes. I could see it then- the entire future of my next weeks, months, possible years written in the chilling stare. I’d be chained to this man, nurtured and tormented in equal measure, force-fed the darkness I’d spent a lifetime trying to escape. Ian’s hand closed around the leash at my throat, something equally vicious shining in his eyes. My head spun with images of myself, stalking in darkened halls, blood-soaked and grinning, wearing that leash proudly as I dragged an entire bloodline to its knees. My hands still trembled, not from weakness… but from a dark anticipation for what came next.

He seemed to see the shift in me, and Ian let go first. I crashed back to earth, heaving and wild, as the glowing links of the chain pooled as a featherweight over my neck. Ian looked haunted, snatching his gaze away from me. He rose off my hips, the mattress sighing as he sat on the bed’s edge. The tension between us began to dissipate- and in its place, pain and exhaustion reared its ugly head.

To my surprise, I saw it mirrored on Ian’s face, creased lines of anguish as he rubbed at his forehead. His gaze was hollow when it finally found me again, his voice the ghost of a whisper. “You must be tired.” 

I could say the same to you. I kept the words inside, brow knitted as I watched him.

Ian all but ignored me, silent as he lay back on his bed- still in his posh clothes from the auction house, as if he couldn’t even summon the energy to change into nightclothes. “You’ll sleep here for now.”

“You can’t be serious-”

“It’s here, or in a cell,” he bit out the words, turning his head to look at me. There was no real ire in his gaze, just a deadpan certainty. It wasn’t a threat- it was a promise. He let the words hang for a moment before he sighed again. “Just… get up here. Don’t make me stand and drag you to a cage.”

I stared at him for a long moment, considering my options. The choice was inevitable; I rose on shaky legs, meeting the mattress on my hands and knees. With no chance in hell I would lie beside that man, I curled up at the end of the bed instead, watching Ian warily for any move he would make toward me.

He let his head fall back, and I could see the faintest smirk. His whisper barely seemed meant for me, but nonetheless I heard the dark humor of: “I’ve adopted a stray. Don’t bite me while I’m sleeping, or I’m not responsible for how I react.”

Despite myself, a smile curved at my lips, and I was grateful Ian couldn’t see it. 

I remained awake, alert, until I heard Ian’s breath settle into the slow evenness of sleep. How he could trust to be alone in a room with me, unconscious and vulnerable with somebody who had killed his own kind, was beyond me. And it was somehow comforting, as I closed my eyes and succumbed to the darkness Ian was so eager to drag me into.