“Calm down, junkie, or I’ll tighten those straps,” the man warns.

Who the hell’s he calling junkie?

“No. I won’t bloody well calm down. Untie me.” My heart races like an engine, chest heaving against the straps. The walls close in with every breath. The cage is bad enough, but the straps are hurtling me over the edge. “You need to get me out of this. Now.”

“I don’t need to do anything, you filthy blood whore. Calm down and shut the fuck up.”

Blood whore? What the hell is he going on about?

Fury swells, and I’m about to fire off again, but then a door creaks open, and Flanagan’s Scandinavian accent echoes through the room. “How long has he been awake?”

“He just woke, sir. He’s agitated again. You want me to get a witch?”

“No, thank you, Boyce. Wait outside, please.”

“Yes, Commander.”

The door closes with the thump of heavy wood. Keys jangle and clang against metal. I strain my head up to peer behind me, but in this position, the collar constricts my windpipe.

“What’s going on, Flanagan? Why am I tied down like this?” I try to keep my voice steady, but panic makes it wobble.

I catch the scent of forest and rain and something else I can’t place—I’d call it moonlight, but moonlight doesn’t have a smell. Flanagan comes into view, his imposing size blocking daylight from the window. He’s wearing the same hard leather vest and suede trousers, his dirty blond mane tied back into a knot again with the three thin plaits running through it at the side.

His expression is grim, his eyes the color of mercury. “Calm yourself, Michael.”

“No, I won’t motherfucking calm myself.” I twist against the straps. “Untie me. Now.”

He removes one of his dark suede gloves and lays his giant hand on my abs, his fingertips rough against my skin. The Flame inside me responds to his touch like a pet running to its master. It floods through me, gathers at my navel, and rises to his hand, filling my torso with that sherbety tingle. Tension sluices from my limbs. My head flops back to the mattress. Though my stomach growls with hunger, and my bladder twinges, my heart rate slows, and my breathing softens. I’m grateful to lose the rising panic, but I’m no less furious.

I pin him with a glare. “What the bloody hell is going on?”

He remains calm in the face of my anger. “You’re in the Old Keep at Blackriver. One of our lockdown rooms.”

“What? Why? And why am I strapped to a sodding bed?” Mentioning the ties sends my heart racing again. Anxiety tightens my chest.

“Shhh. Settle. I will untie you if you agree to stay calm.”

I take a shuddering breath, then another. I want a damned explanation, but all I care about right now is getting these straps off.

“Fine. Just get them off me.”

I pull in lungfuls of air as he unfastens the buckles on the chest straps.