“You’re naked because when Hazing, a Channeler cannot handle any kind of clothing. You’re chained to the wall because you are a lot calmer with the door open, but the prince can call you at any point. If he does, you could hurt yourself charging at the Wards to get to him. Or disappear into the Border Woods.” He indicates with a nod to concertinaed glass doors folded back, opening a whole wall to the lawn outside. “The manacles are still in place because they suppress your Flame.”

“And why are you naked, then?”

“Because I was…Grounding you, helping you. It requires skin-to-skin contact.” His mouth curves. “And you would not have accepted me wearing clothes.”

“What? Why not?”

He shakes his head, one of his long plaits falling forward over his shoulder. “You really are a different person when you’re lost to the Haze, Michael. The feral cat is replaced by an incredibly sweet man whose sexual preferences are somewhat broader.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? What the hell happened, Flanagan?”

“I’ll explain. Are you going to settle?”

I expel a harsh breath. Fury swirls like hot steam in my belly, and I want to yank the chain from the wall and use it to strangle him, but I know the overbearing ass is strong enough to do what he wants with me, so there’s no point arguing. And even Flanagan’s bed is better than a cage.

“Fine, I’m calm. Get the fuck off me. Do I get clothes? Or is this standard dress in your bedroom?”

He raises a brow, something dark flashing across his eyes, but without a word, he releases me, smoothly rolling aside and off the bed. He stalks over to a door in the wall—a walk-in wardrobe by the looks of it—and disappears inside.

I scramble to my knees, cover my junk with both hands, and survey the room. It’s massive. Three times the size of my whole flat. Big enough to dominate this fur-covered bed, which is the width of a small island. The decor has a Scandinavian feel—all wood with tasteful stone-colored textiles and leather couches. One whole wall is covered by shelves, each of its alcoves stuffed with a multicolored row of books. At the far end, an open wall looks out onto decking and a lawn bordered by green woodland.

It’s a nice pad. Somewhere I would live myself. Given the height of the ceiling and its size, I assume it’s a room in the main building. It’s got a comfortable, sanctuary feel to it. Somewhere I’m sure Flanagan escapes to when being the big boss man becomes a headache.