Page 58 of Forging Darkness

He turns to me with a dark look. “You can hardly expect me to give you free rein of the compound.”

“You said I wasn’t a prisoner.”

“I prefer to think of you as a reluctant guest. Besides, confining you when you don’t have an escort is as much for your safety as the safety of the Fallen and Forsaken who live here. You have a . . .” His mouth twists as he searches for the right words. “An allure that is particularly enticing to the Fallen. If left to roam, you’d find yourself in more trouble than you can imagine. Speaking of—”

He picks a bracelet up off his desk. I don’t remember it being there before. “I had intended to give you this after you’d bathed, but considering that,” he tips his head in the direction of the wrecked room, “it’s best not to wait.”

He reaches for my wrist, but I jerk my arm out of the way. “You have an issue with personal space, don’t you?”

“Here.” He extends an outstretched hand, palm up, offering me the clunky piece of molded gold. There’s a single milky stone embedded in the tarnished metal.

“Um. No thanks. I don’t think we’re at the jewelry phase in our relationship yet.” I’m joking, but also serious. I don’t want anything from him unless it’s my freedom.

“I’m not trying to impress you with a trinket. It will keep your power muted from the Fallen so they’ll be able to control themselves around you. Without it, I’ll be forced to slaughter my subjects day and night to keep you safe.”

I grin, showing all my teeth. “I don’t mind the sound of that.”

He smashes his lips together. I get the distinct impression he wants to scold me. Then something wicked flashes in his eyes, and his mouth slowly twists into a grin. “If you don’t put it on, I’ll be forced to confine you to this room. How do you feel about moving in together?”

I choke on nothing, but shoot back the moment my throat clears, “How do you feel about castration?”

His grin freezes and then disappears.

“Just wear it. Please.” He forces out the last word behind gritted teeth.

I stare back at him, unimpressed with his coercion skills.

“I won’t be able to allow you to leaveyour newroom without it.”

I run a tongue along my teeth, frustrated I’m going to bow to his demands. The hours Silver left me to rot in the last room felt like an eternity. I can’t go through that again, at least not if I can help it.

Snatching the bracelet from Thorne, I give a grunt of annoyance before slipping it over my hand. My fingers spasm when it settles around my wrist, an electric charge zapping me.

“What the—?” My gaze snaps to Thorne, seeking answers and throwing an accusation at the same time.

“The gem was simply activating.” Is that supposed to clear everything up for me? “I would caution you against taking it off.” The words are spoken lightly, but the hard glint in his eyes says the warning is anything but.

“What is this?” I tap the stone with the tip of my finger.

“Something else the Nephilim don’t know about. They’re called spirit gems. Small ones like these,” he nods down at my bracelet, “are scattered throughout the spirit realm. They have various uses and properties. The one on your wrist helps conceal your powers. Other gems can amplify abilities, create shields, control objects or people—the list goes on and on. And there are likely more out there that haven’t been discovered.”

“Why don’t the Nephilim know about them?” Some angel-borns must be aware of these magic rocks—the Council of Elders at the very least.

“As a rule, Nephilim don’t spend time in this realm. They pop in and out during skirmishes, but they never spend a moment longer here than they have to. Is it any surprise they don’t know the wonders of this realm?”

I tuck the information away to think on later.

The metal sits hot against my skin. A low-level vibration hums through it, as if it’s filled with an electric current. I twist my wrist to inspect the jewelry and realize the scratches are in fact deliberate etchings.

“What are these?” I ask.

“Enochian runes. It’s an enchantment that works with the gem to lessen the effects of your aura. Makes you less of a temptation to Fallen.”

“You gave me something with Fallen language on it?” I move to tear the protective jewelry off, but Thorne’s hand stays me.

“They’re just words,” he says.

“Sometimes words are more powerful than the sharpest weapons.”

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