I watched without blinking as the movement I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been focusing on the door stilled. The sound of a lock disengaging shot through the room as each muscle in my body tensed. My heart picked up its pace at the confirmation that the only other door in the room was definitely not a much-needed bathroom and was locked as well.
It meant there was no chance that it was Silas on the other side of the door coming to yell at me for not listening to him and making me feel silly for standing here holding a vase as a weapon against a Fae who could probably fling me against the wall with the flick of their fingers.
But he wasn't here. I was alone.
Because I hadn't listened.
Though, it was evident that I wasn't going to be alone for long.
When the door began to push open, I had to snap myself out of my frozen state to force my feet to silently move while raising the vase in my hands. Stepping to the side, I moved out of the line of sight of opening the door as my thoughts raced in panic, triggering my fight-or-flight instincts that were pumping adrenaline through my limbs.
Had they seen the Mark of the Blood Stone? Would they torture me for it like Hilda had said? Or were they going to try to use me to gain its power like Silas had warned? Would they do whatever Hilda had done to bind me to Silas, to bond me to them?
What did that even mean? To be bonded?
Nothing good, I was sure. Otherwise, Silas would have been a little more enthused at the news. Especially if it came with a major power boost.
Though most of my clothing was in place, I couldn't shake the creeping fears that continued to grow as the door opened further. The lingering fear from a dream I couldn't clearly recall wasn't helping much either.
Adjusting my grip on the vase that seemed to grow heavier in my hold, the sweat beginning to slick my palms as my eyes dropped to the foot that stepped inside had me hesitating. The booted foot belonged to a man. A very large man. The body that followed had my eyes rising up thick trunk-like legs, over a hard torso swathed in fine fabrics, and across the sharp cut of a jaw until my neck was straining back to take in a flash of hair that seemed to glow blood-red from the light the opening door let in. The strands shifted softly as the head they sat on turned toward me.
My hesitation grew the more I saw him, prompting me to lower my arms before I could make a bad situation worse. But then I caught sight of a familiar face that had my anger flaring and my arms freezing.
"You," I hissed out, my eyes narrowing on the man.
So much for not wanting trouble.
Hazel eyes locked with mine before pointedly moving to the vase I held in my hands. He blinked, tilting his head as he took in the sight of the makeshift weapons in my hands. There was no mistake in what I had been intending to do with the vase I was holding like a weapon.
Maybe the strike I had taken to the head had done more damage than I was able to recognize. That would explain why my first thought of action was to attack whoever had me locked in a room rather than try to, oh, I don't know, talk first.
But then again, whoever had struck me across the back of the head hadn't considered talking either. But they had the strength and abilities to back up their choice of violence.
My grip on the vase tightened as Rowan's eyes shifted to meet mine again. His blank expression had my panic rising.
"If you plan to attack me, you've missed the window of surprise-"
