The Prisoner of Silk: 9. The Silk Door Opens

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against her knee. His voice cracked, raw and unguarded. “Because I knew what you’d say. You’d call me no different. You’d tell me I’m just another man who took what he wanted. And maybe you’re right. But at least here—at least with me—you’re not disposable. You’re mine.”

Tears stung her eyes. She shoved his shoulders weakly, but he didn’t move. “You don’t own me,” she hissed.

His head lifted sharply, eyes blazing. “No. But you belong. Whether you hate me, whether you try to run, that truth won’t change. Out there, they’ll tear you apart. Here, in these chains—” His hand slid up, gripping the silk still clinging to her shoulder. “—you’re alive. Desired. Protected. I want you here with me. I want to keep you safe.”

She trembled, caught between fury and a heat she couldn’t kill. His words were poison and promise all at once, sinking into her blood.

“Choose, then,” he said, voice low and rough. “Stay here, with me, and I’ll