Page 26 of Bound in Silk

"I meant what I said," I murmur against her hair. "No more running, Seraphina. No more hiding. No more retreating when the intensity between us feels overwhelming."

She's quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if she's already drifting toward sleep, her energy depleted by the emotional and physical intensity of the day. Then her voice, soft but clear: "And no more tying me to the bed without discussing it first."

I smile against her hair, oddly pleased by this small reassertion of her will, her boundaries, her essential Seraphina-ness that I never want diminished despite my need to possess her completely.

"Unless absolutely necessary," I qualify, echoing our earlier conversation.

She pinches my side lightly in retaliation, but there's no real heat in it. "Define 'absolutely necessary,'" she challenges, repeating her question from the car.

"Attempts to run," I answer honestly. "Lies about where you're going. Creating distance when what we need is connection."

Her body tenses slightly against mine, a renewed awareness of the fundamental tension between us—my need to possess,her need for independence; my certainty, her questioning; my strategy, her spontaneity.

"We'll figure it out," I promise, tightening my arms around her. "Day by day. Moment by moment. Finding the balance that works for both of us."

She relaxes incrementally, perhaps hearing the sincerity in my voice, the genuine commitment to finding a way forward that honors both our needs. "Together?" she asks, the single word carrying more weight than its simplicity would suggest.

"Together," I confirm, the promise as binding as any vow, any ring, any legal document. "Always together, Seraphina. That's the one non-negotiable truth between us."

She doesn't respond verbally, but her body softens further against mine, her breathing gradually evening out as exhaustion claims her. I remain awake, holding her, watching over her, savoring the certainty that she is here, she is safe, she is mine.

Not just because I've bound her to our bed. Not just because I've claimed her body with such thorough possession. But because she's chosen to stay, chosen to surrender, chosen to acknowledge what we both know is true.

That separation is illusion. That independence is myth. That what exists between us transcends conventional boundaries or definitions or limitations.

That we belong to each other, completely and irrevocably, now and always.

Chapter Fifteen

Seraphina

I standat the floor-to-ceiling windows of Knox's penthouse, staring at the miniature world below. Freedom looks so close yet impossibly far away, like a dream that dissolves upon waking. My hands drift to my swollen belly, cradling the life growing inside me—our life, mine and Knox's. The baby kicks against my palm as if to remind me why escape is no longer an option. Not that Knox would ever allow it. The truth sinks in like a stone to the bottom of a dark pond: I belong to Knox Vance now, and he will never let me go.

Less than a day. I managed less than a day on my own before he found me. Jus hours before Knox stormed into my room like a vengeful god, eyes blazing with fury and something else—something that looked dangerously like heartbreak.

I lean my forehead against the cool glass, my breath creating a small circle of fog. Behind me, I hear Knox moving around the kitchen, the gentle clink of china against marble, the soft hiss of the espresso machine. Always taking care of me, even when he's furious. Especially when he's furious.

The memory of his face when he found me makes my chest tighten. I'd never seen Knox Vance—tech genius, ruthless businessman, billionaire—look so utterly shattered. For a split second, before the mask slipped back into place, before the rage took over, I saw raw pain in those dark eyes. And I put it there.

"Are you trying to see if the glass will give way? Because I assure you, it won't. It's bulletproof." His voice comes from directly behind me, making me jump. I didn't even hear him approach—Knox always moving with that predatory grace that makes him so dangerous.

"No," I whisper, turning to face him. He stands close, too close, his massive frame blocking out the rest of the world. In his hands are two mugs—mine decaf, his quadruple shot, no doubt. "I was just thinking."

"About running again?" His voice is deceptively soft, but I hear the steel underneath. Knox doesn't ask questions he doesn't already know the answers to.

I shake my head, taking the mug he offers. "No. About staying."

Something flashes in his eyes—triumph, relief, possessiveness. He doesn't believe me yet. I don't blame him.

"Good," he says, one large hand coming up to cup my cheek. I should pull away. I should maintain some kind of boundary. But I don't. Instead, I lean into his touch like a cat seeking warmth. "Because I've made it clear that's not an option, Seraphina."

The way he says my name—like it's a rare artwork he's acquired, something precious and irreplaceable—sends a shiver down my spine.

"I know." I take a sip of my tea, allowing the warm liquid to soothe my throat. "I understand now."

Knox's eyebrow arches, skepticism etched across his aristocratic features. "Do you?" His thumb traces my bottom lip, a habit he seems unable to break. "Because I'm not convincedyou grasp exactly what you mean to me. What this means to me." His hand drops to my belly, splaying wide across the swell where our child grows.

"You made it abundantly clear when you tracked me across state lines with a private detective and half a dozen security personnel."

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