Page 27 of The Revenge
“Are you fucking insane?” Syn explodes.
“I don’t know. Does it sound like an idea an insane person would suggest?” I make my eyes wide as I blink innocently.
I can’t tell if the red that Syn turns has a hint of remorse to it, but it’s still satisfying to see.
He goes tense, his muscles locking him in place. Then slowly, he releases a breath, and a small smile grows on his lips. “Much as I would love to entertain that idea, I unfortunately don’t have a spare collar, nor will I be able to obtain one before—”
“I do,” Gemini blurts out, his dark eyes wide with glee. “Actually, I have several.”
Syn closes his eyes as his body tenses. “Of course, you do.”
Gemini uses his hands to push himself off the counter with a flourish. “I don’t have tags, but I think I have something special for you.”
“Gemini Frederick Remington, I am not about to wear one of your crusty sex toys,” Syn bellows after Gemini as he races from the room. He turns back to me and arches an eyebrow.
“I might have more sympathy if I wasn’t still wearing mine,” I say as I point to my neck.
Syn’s gaze drops to the marks, but his lips remain pressed together.
“Who is it going to hurt if we wear a collar?” Royal asks. Like Syn, he’s staring at the red mark on my throat. “It’s probably the least we can do. And I think it would really hammer the point home to everyone when we tell them Tori’s off limits.”
“I don’t need any props to make my point,” Syn responds.
I wait for him to reiterate that he’s not going to wear a collar, but he doesn’t. Instead, moments later, Gemini comes skipping back into the kitchen. There’s a thick, black collar with silver spikes already around his neck. While it doesn’t have a tag on it, there is a chunky ring that’s settled comfortably against his golden skin.
In his hands are two more identical collars that he offers to Royal and Syn with a crazed grin on his face. “Do you need help putting them on?”
Royal takes one of the collars, holding it with both hands in front of him as he stares at it, before turning it over. Like the first collar Syn gave me, this one is fastened with a silver buckle—but this one is missing a lock. Royal glances at me before he turns his attention back to the collar, unfastening the back. Then, straightening his back, he lifts his head and presses the collar against his throat. His eyes don’t leave me as he fastens it up.
“Don’t forget yours, Synnie,” Gemini sings.
Considering he’s been waving it at Syn since Royal took his, I doubt Syn’s forgotten about it, but as much as I want to smile, I bite it back.
I know he’s not going to put it on, but if he thinks I’m going to tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s going to—
Syn snatches the collar from Gemini. Breaking his glare only long enough to look down at the collar to find the buckle, he doesn’t blink as he fastens it around his neck.
This has got to be a trick.
There’s no way he’s going to keep that on…
“Fine. Let’s go to breakfast,” I declare. I’m still expecting someone to object, but they don’t.
Instead, Syn raises an arm to gesture to the door.
Yesterday, I’d only gone for breakfast once I’d put some makeup on to cover the bruises. It’s tempting to do it again, because even if it wasn’t my fault, I still feel some embarrassment about it. I also hate the idea of people pointing and staring, but considering the presence of Syn, Royal, and Gemini is going to do that anyway, I get my coat instead of trying to hide the bruises.
This time, Royal drives the golf cart instead of us walking across campus. Off the paths, there doesn’t seem to be much change in the snow, but the paths themselves have been cleared and resalted.
We arrive at the dining hall, at what would normally be the busiest time for breakfast, but today, it’s half that. I bet those who could leave once the dean said there was no obligation for some to do their exams this semester, did. Regardless, the dining hall falls almost silent as Royal and Gemini push open the double doors and stride in.
After spending most of the semester trying to not be the center of attention, and suffering from it when I’d failed, my first reaction is to try to back away. But on the far side of the room, I spot Lissa sitting with another member of the Elite, Gabrielle. Even from here, she looks like she’s ready to leap over the table and tackle me to the ground.
My inherent distrust of Syn has me questioning if this is all a setup—a chance for Lissa to finish what she started. If that’s the case, I’m not going down without a fight.
Pushing my shoulders back, I take a step into the dining room.
And as I do, Syn joins my side, capturing his hand with mine.
