Page 26 of Kneel with the King
My skin prickles.
He doesn’t warn me when the terrain shifts, but his voice is there again—slightly closer now.
“Stop.”
I freeze.
“Take off the blindfold.”
My fingers are clumsy. When I tug it away, I suck in a breath.
We’re standing in a clearing. Trees overhead, the early morning sun slivering between branches. The smell of pine and snow.
And in the center of the clearing?
A low wooden bench.
“Is this the part where you murder me?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He steps closer to me—slow, calculated. His dark hair is tousled, and his eyes are clear and bright as his lips curve into a smile.
“You followed me.”
I scoff. “Because you made me.”
“No.” He’s close now. “Because part of youwantedto follow. Even if you won’t admit it yet.”
The silence wraps around us like a net.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” I say, barely above a whisper.
He leans in. His breath brushes my ear.
“I’m not playing, Asher.”
Then he holds out something between us.
My collar.
“You had that in your coat?”
He shrugs. “I’m always prepared.”
I don’t take it. But I don’t turn away either.
His gaze hardens slightly. “You want to prove I don’t have power over you? Don’t put it on.”
The words land sharp. Like a dare. I reach out, my fingers wrapping around leather. And for one long, traitorous moment, Iwantto put it on. But I don’t.
I slide it into my coat pocket instead.
His expression doesn’t flicker, but I know he sees what it means.
Not submission—not yet.
But not resistance, either.
This all suddenly feels ridiculous. I’m cold, hungry, and angry that he dragged me out here when my lips are probably still blue.
