Chapter 7
824 Words
The obsidian table gleamed under the firelight, dishes of jeweled fruits and spiced meats steaming with aromas that made her stomach twist. Serenya sat stiffly, forcing herself not to reach for anything, though hunger gnawed at her.
Nekros sat across from her, silver eyes fixed, studying her like she was another delicacy waiting to be consumed. He didn’t touch the food. Instead, he swirled his goblet of dark wine lazily.
“Tell me, little flame,” he said at last, voice soft and coaxing, though laced with iron. “What was your life like in the mortal realm?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She picked up a knife, turning it in her hands more for distraction than defense. “I didn’t have much of a life.”
His brow arched. “Everyone has something. Family. A name. A purpose.”
She made a hollow sound that was supposed to be a laugh. “Family? I had none. I was an orphan left to the gutters, the filth others threw away. I survived because I learned to take what wasn’t given.”
His head tilted, interest flickering across his face. “A thief.”
Her jaw clenched. “A survivor. Call it what you want. People feared me because I built a reputation sharp enough to protect me. That was all I had.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Nekros’s mouth curved into something too close to a smile. “So that’s the truth. A flame born from ash and hunger. A girl who carved her place with stolen fire.”
His tone made it sound like praise, but Serenya felt the heat of mockery beneath it. Something in her snapped. She leaned forward, eyes flashing. “At least I earned my place. Unlike someone sitting on a throne built from fear and corpses, pretending it makes you powerful.”
The goblet stilled in his hand. His gaze darkened.
In a heartbeat, he was on his feet. Dark mist rippled in his wake as he closed the distance, seizing the back of her chair and yanking it toward him with such force she gasped.
“What are yo…”
Her protest was cut off as he loomed over her, his hand sliding into her hair, twisting gently but firmly until her head tilted back. His breath brushed her cheek, cold and smoky, his silver eyes burning with restrained fury.
“You dare,” he murmured, each word a blade, “to compare your petty thefts to my dominion?”
Her pulse pounded, but defiance refused to bow. “At least what I took was mine to keep.”
His grip tightened in her hair. His other hand descended, tracing the curve of her arm, down to her side, then lower until it rested against her thigh. The heat of his touch seared through the fabric, dangerous and intimate.
Serenya’s breath caught. He heard it. His mouth curved in a cruel smirk.
“You shake,” he whispered, brushing his lips over her temple, then down to her ear. His teeth grazed her lobe, making her body jolt. “Yet you speak of strength.”
Her fists clenched in her lap, desperate to hide the fire he was stoking inside her. “You… won’t break me.”
His laugh was low, dark, vibrating against her skin. His mouth trailed lower, pressing heated kisses along her jaw, then down to the delicate hollow of her collarbone. And just when she thought he wouldn’t go any lower, he nipped slightly at the exposed cleavage, almost spilling her breasts.
Her body betrayed her with every shiver, every shaky breath.
His hand on her thigh shifted higher, slow circles tracing perilously close to where she burned most. The higher his hand moved, the wetter she became. Her juices were leaking out at this point and the fragrance of her sinful desires tickled his nose.
Just when she thought he would cross the final line, her body arched toward him in shameful need but pulled away.
Nooooo! Why won’t he kiss me? She thought to herself as she flushed red.
Nekros straightened, releasing her hair, stepping back with deliberate ease. His eyes gleamed as he looked down at her flushed face and trembling frame.
“Leave,” he commanded, his voice silken steel. “Before I decide to take what your mouth claims you don’t want.”
Serenya sat frozen, fury and longing warring inside her chest. Every part of her screamed to stay, to fight, to demand but her legs betrayed her, carrying her away from his smoldering gaze.
Behind her, his laughter rolled like smoke, curling around her spine, reminding her that the battle between them had only just begun.
“I’m going to enjoy this very much” she heard him whisper on her way out.
The battle line has finally been drawn, who will emerge victorious in this battle of desire?
- Writer
