14. Won't
916 Words
= Amara =
“And what if I refuse your offer?” he finally asked, breaking the heavy silence between us. “What exactly do you think you can do about it?”
His tried his best to appear calm, but his face betrayed him. The muscles along his jaw were locked tight, his restraint stretched thin, as if he were barely holding back the impulse to wrap his hands around my throat and end the conversation permanently.
I let a slow, knowing smirk curve my lips.
Why did he keep pushing against a choice he’d already made the moment he saved me? Was this some kind of test—of my courage, my loyalty, my limits? Fine. If he wanted a game, I would play it better than him.
“Then you’ll keep chasing ghosts,” I said evenly, offering no mercy in my words. “Another year. Maybe two. Maybe a decade.” I tilted my head, watching the reaction flicker across his face. “And by then, who’s to say Gravemire won’t decide it’s the Veyrath that deserves their attention instead?”
His eyes darkened, the air around us tightening with unspoken threat.
“You have a dangerous mouth,” he growled. “So sharp it might get you killed. Or have you forgotten that I can end your life in a heartbeat?”
I didn’t flinch.
Instead, I smiled—cool, deliberate, utterly unafraid. “Of course I remember.” I stood from the bed, lowering my voice just enough to make the truth sting. “But if you do that, like I said, you’ll lose the only person who can give you the very thing you’ve been desperately searching for all these years.”
A taut, electrified silence swallowed the room, thick enough to taste. It pressed against my skin, against my lungs, daring one of us to breathe first.
He moved closer—too close. The space between us vanished until the air itself seemed to vibrate, alive with tension. His breath skimmed my cheek, warm and faintly smoky, sending a traitorous shiver down my spine. My heart stuttered, fluttered, but I locked it down. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing it.
“You think I’m desperate,” he said softly, the words more accusation than question.
“Yes,” I breathed in return, my voice low but unyielding. “And you hate that I’m useful.”
His eyes pinned me in place. He was breathing harder now, chest rising and falling as something fierce twisted behind his gaze—frustration, fury, and an intensity so sharp it felt like a blade drawn too close to skin. He looked at me as though he wanted to devour me or destroy me, and perhaps couldn’t decide which urge was stronger.
Then he laughed.
It wasn’t the careless sound from before. This laugh was harsh, stripped raw. Dark. Reluctant. It carried the bitter edge of surrender he despised.
He turned away abruptly, raking a hand through his hair, pacing a single step as if fighting the urge to either shatter the room—or close the distance between us and do something far worse.
“Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll let you be my Luna.”
I straightened instinctively, spine snapping into place at the weight of those words. He turned back to face me, and whatever mercy I thought I’d won evaporated instantly. His eyes gleamed now, vicious and calculating.
“But,” he continued, lips curling, “only if you manage to earn my pack’s favor enough for them to accept you as their Luna.”
The air left my lungs in a silent rush. My body went rigid, frozen in place as the meaning settled in. He smiled at me then—slow, cruel, and unmistakably pleased with himself.
It was his turn to torment me.
“I’ll announce to the pack that you are to be my Luna,” his voice steady, final—as if the decision had already been carved into stone. “But in return, you’ll have to earn their acceptance. Not just from the pack members, but from the elders. From everyone.”
He paused, his gaze holding mine, heavy with something unreadable. Then he went on, more blunt this time. “I won’t be able to hide who you are—nor do I intend to. Most of the people here already know you. How you gain their favor will be entirely up to you.”
His words settled like a weight on my chest.
“If you succeed,” he continued, “you’ll stand beside me as my Luna. You’ll have a place here for as long as you choose to stay. And I’ll even consider your plans—how they fit into my long-standing revenge.”
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. Hearing it laid out so plainly—power, protection, purpose—it was dangerously tempting. Too tempting.
“But I don’t intend to stay here forever,” I said, forcing the words past my lips. “Once the Gravemire falls, I’ll leave. This place was never meant to be my home.”
He let out a sharp scoff, the sound laced with disbelief and something darker. “I won’t let you.”
My breath caught.
My eyes widened as I stared at him, my mind scrambling to make sense of what he’d just said.
What the hell did he mean by that?
- Writer
