ONE BED, ZERO PATIENCE
920 Words
CHAPTER SEVEN: ONE BED, ZERO PATIENCE
"Boundaries? Zyrah has them. Aziel? Not so much."
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"One Hotel Room. One Problem."
Zyrah stood in the middle of the dimly lit hotel room, arms crossed, eyes glaring daggers at Aziel.
"One bed?" she snapped. "One freaking bed?"
Aziel, standing by the window, smirked like this was the most amusing thing to happen all night. Because, of course, to him, it was.
"Would you rather sleep outside?" he teased, tugging at his tie.
Zyrah exhaled sharply. "I’d rather sleep in a shark tank than share a bed with you."
Aziel chuckled. "A shark tank, huh? You’re getting creative." He loosened the top buttons of his shirt, his smug grin never fading.
Zyrah refused to let her eyes wander. She had self-control, damn it.
She turned to the couch. Rock-hard. Tiny. Unbearable. But it was better than sleeping next to him.
"I’ll take the couch," she said, grabbing a pillow.
Aziel tsked, shaking his head. "Vexley, you’re no fun. You do know I don’t bite… unless asked nicely?"
Zyrah threw the pillow at his face. "Shut up, Rune."
His deep laugh sent an unwanted warmth up her spine.
This was going to be a long night.
---
"Boundaries? What Boundaries?"
Two hours later, Zyrah lay curled up on the awful couch, trying (and failing) to sleep.
Aziel? Oh, he was living his best life, sprawled out on the big, comfortable bed, sleeping like a damn prince.
Zyrah glared at the ceiling.
She refused to acknowledge how nice he smelled. How the sheets carried his scent. How his stupid deep breathing was the only sound in the room.
She needed to focus on their situation, not on… him.
Because nothing about Aziel Rune was worth her attention.
Absolutely nothing.
...
Except maybe his back.
Because when he rolled over, the blankets slipped just enough to reveal a faint scar trailing along his shoulder blade.
Zyrah frowned. That wasn’t just any scar. It was an old knife wound.
Her gaze flickered to his tattooed wrist, then back to the scar.
Aziel had a past.
A past he never talked about.
A past that, for some damn reason, made Zyrah wonder.
She shook the thought away. Not her problem.
Then—
Aziel shifted.
His voice, groggy and low, broke the silence.
"Vexley," he murmured, not even opening his eyes.
She stiffened. "What?"
"You’re staring."
Zyrah sat up immediately. "I was not!"
Aziel smirked, eyes still shut. "Mmm, sure."
"Go to sleep, Rune."
"Can’t," he muttered. "Too uncomfortable knowing you’re suffering on that tiny thing."
Zyrah scoffed. "I’m not suffering."
Aziel cracked an eye open. "Then stop tossing and turning like you’re having a dramatic inner monologue."
Zyrah grabbed a pillow and threw it at him—again.
Aziel laughed. "That your love language, sweetheart?"
She glared. "My love language is stabbing annoying men."
Aziel grinned. "Kinky."
She grabbed another pillow.
---
"More Than Just an Attack"
The teasing was bad enough.
But the real problem came at 3 AM.
A knock at the door.
Not a soft, innocent knock.
A calculated, slow, and deadly one.
Zyrah snapped awake, instincts screaming.
Aziel was already up, gun in hand, his playful demeanor gone.
She silently grabbed the knife from under her pillow.
Aziel nodded toward the bathroom. A silent order: Hide. Now.
Zyrah shook her head. Not happening.
Aziel’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. He moved toward the door, footsteps silent, precise.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Aziel unlocked it—and yanked it open.
Nothing.
No one in the hallway.
Just an envelope on the floor.
Aziel picked it up, scanned it—then cursed under his breath.
Zyrah stepped closer. "What is it?"
He handed her the paper inside.
One sentence.
"You’re running out of time, Rune."
Zyrah’s stomach dropped.
Aziel tore up the letter. "We need to leave."
She nodded. "Agreed."
But before she could turn, Aziel grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer.
"Vexley."
She blinked, thrown off by the seriousness in his gaze.
"You still think this is just some business rivalry?" he murmured.
Zyrah hesitated. "It’s not?"
Aziel’s lips twitched, but there was no humor in it.
"They don’t want my company, Zyrah," he muttered. "They want something much worse."
And for the first time since this entire mess started—
Zyrah was afraid.
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"The Playful Playboy Disappears"
They packed in five minutes.
Aziel didn’t joke. Didn’t flirt. Didn’t smirk.
That alone told Zyrah just how serious this was.
She followed him down the fire escape, every shadow feeling too close.
Aziel was tense.
And when they reached the underground parking lot—
Zyrah felt it, too.
Someone was watching them.
Aziel exhaled. "Get in the car."
"Aziel—"
"Now, Vexley."
His tone left no room for argument.
She slipped into the passenger seat just as he slid behind the wheel.
The second the doors locked—
Tires screeched.
A black sedan sped toward them.
Aziel didn’t hesitate.
He hit the gas.
The chase began.
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"Escape or Die Trying"
The car roared down the empty streets.
Zyrah’s nails dug into her seat. "Where the hell are we going?!"
Aziel’s jaw was tight. "Somewhere safe."
She turned in her seat. "Do you even know who's after us?"
Aziel’s grip on the wheel tightened.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "And trust me, Vexley… you don’t want to meet them."
Zyrah’s stomach twisted.
Because if Aziel Rune—the arrogant, fearless playboy—was actually scared?
Then they were in deeper trouble than she thought.
---
- Writer
