Dark Enchantment

15

Elara

The sight of Asher's jaw twitching in anger was enough to pull me out of the thrall of my desire. Without a second thought, I pushed Trent off me and sat up on the cold stone slab. My clothes were scattered around the altar.

"Asher," I taunted, my voice dripping with satisfaction, "you look pale. Is everything alright?"

His eyes were hard, his jaw set in a grim line. But he didn't say a word.

"What's the matter, Asher?" I continued, relishing in his discomfort, "I thought you wanted me to embrace my dark side. Isn't this what you wanted?"

Still, Asher remained silent. His green eyes were like two blazing emeralds, burning with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

In one swift motion, he stormed over, pulling out a pocketknife and embedding it into Trent's thigh. Trent let out a pained gasp, his hands flying to his wound.

Before I could react, Asher had scooped me up and thrown me over his shoulder. His grip was firm, unyielding. But as he carried me away, I couldn't help but laugh. This was exactly what I wanted. The power, the control, the darkness. It was as intoxicating, as it was freeing.

With me slung over his shoulder, Asher stormed out of the chapel, his steps echoing ominously in the silence. I could feel his anger radiating off him, but rather than cower, I reveled in it.

I had wanted to provoke Asher, to push him to his limits, but I hadn't intended for Trent to get hurt. No, I wanted Asher to kill him. To feel forced to do something I too had been forced to do.

As Asher carried me further away, I twisted in his grip, trying to get a look at his face. His jaw was clenched, his eyes hard. The sight sent a thrill through me. Asher was angry, and I was the cause.

"Let me down, Asher," I demanded, my voice steady despite the situation.

Without a word, Asher dumped me onto the ground. The impact jarred me, and for a moment I lay there, breathless. With a huff I pushed myself up and glared at Asher. "Did you have to be so rough?" I snapped, brushing the dirt off myself.

But Asher merely looked at me, an inscrutable expression on his face. His silence unnerved me, but I refused to back down.

"Is this about Trent?" I asked, meeting his gaze head-on. "You're the one who wanted me to embrace my dark side, remember? Or have you changed your mind?"

As the words left my lips, I watched Asher's reaction closely.

My eyes were drawn to the pulse in his neck, its frantic rhythm a telltale sign of his ever growing anger. I couldn't help but smirk, wondering what might happen if I brought up Leon. Would his reaction be as fierce, as passionate?

"Did you know, Asher," I began, my voice dripping with faux innocence, "Before Trent, there was Leon."

His eyes flickered at the mention of Leon's name, but he remained silent. I took a step closer, my lips curling into a wicked smile.

"We were in the library," I said, my voice lowering to a sultry whisper. "It was...educational."

Asher's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. I couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing around us.

"What's the matter, Asher?" I taunted, stepping even closer, "Don't tell me you're jealous."

His eyes bore into mine, green flames dancing within them. But he didn't say a word.

My laughter soon faded as I studied his face, my amusement replaced by a growing sense of anticipation. I had started this game, and I was curious to see how far I could push Asher. How far he would let me go before he snapped.

I placed my hand on Asher's chest, standing on my tiptoes to lean in and whisper in his ear. "Want to know what I learned?" I taunted, my eyes flickering up to meet his.

Without a word, Asher grabbed my wrist and started dragging me towards the garage. I stumbled after him, my heart pounding in my chest.

He yanked open the garage door and pulled me inside. With a swift movement, he bent me over the bonnet of Leon's car. His foot nudged between my legs, forcing them apart.

"Oh Asher," I teased, my voice breathless with excitement, "This is unexpected."

But Asher ignored my comment, pushing my head onto the bonnet. His voice rumbled in my ear, a dark promise that sent chills down my spine. "I can go dark too, Elara."

Asher's touch was demanding, exciting. As he unbuckled his belt and thrust into me, I couldn't help but moan in pleasure, begging him for more. But just as I was about to reach the precipice, he stopped.

He pulled out, spinning me around to face him. With one swift movement, he pushed me back onto the bonnet, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His words washed over me, a possessive claim that sent another thrill of excitement coursing through me.

"You're mine, Elara," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Perhaps I need to remind you of that."

His teeth grazed my n****e before he bit down. My head rolled back, my body arching against him in response. And then he was inside me again, his thrusts relentless, claiming me in a way no one else ever had.

As I surrendered to the pleasure, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. This was the Asher I had wanted to see, the Asher I had pushed to reveal. Dark, powerful, possessive. He was all mine, and when I was through, he would be the last one standing.

Asher

As Elara lay panting on the bonnet of the car, I found myself leaning against the garage wall, my heart pounding in my chest.

I should have been seething, my mind filled with images of her and Trent, her and Leon. But instead, I felt an unsettling calm. I hated to admit it, but something about being in Elara's presence comforted me. It was a feeling that went beyond physical desire, beyond the power games we played. And it was screwing with my mind.

"Elara," I growled, pushing away from the wall. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and questioning. "I don't know what kind of twisted game you're playing, but it ends now."

She started to speak, but I silenced her with a wave of my hand. "No, you listen to me. You think you've got me figured out, think you can manipulate me. But you're wrong."

The words spilled out before I could stop them, my frustration and confusion getting the better of me. "You, Elara, you make me feel things I don't want to feel. You make me want things I shouldn't want. And that... that terrifies me."

Her eyes softened, her lips parting to respond. But I didn't want to hear it. I couldn't hear it. So I turned and stormed out of the garage, leaving her and the chaos of my emotions behind.

As I stood out in the cold air, I ran a hand through my hair, frustration gnawing at me. Why was it that Elara, of all people, could evoke such feelings in me?

I was supposed to be in control, to be the one playing the games. But somewhere along the line, the tables had turned. I was no longer the puppeteer, but the puppet, dancing to Elara's tune.

Being her f*****g puppet needed to stop. I had brought her here, forced her to become part of this dark world. But I didn't make her the woman she chose to become. That choice was hers, and it was a choice I would make her regret.

Rage boiled within me as I stormed back into the chapel. Trent was still there, nursing his thigh, an expression of shock crossing his face as he saw me. I didn't waste any time. My fingers curled into the collar of his shirt, and with a surge of strength, I hurled him across the room. He crashed into the wall with a sickening thud, his groans echoing through the chapel.

"You've lost your mind, Asher!" Trent managed to spit out, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But in my mind, I’d never been more clear-headed. I had a plan, a solution. No more Trent, no more Leon meant Elara would be mine, and mine alone.

Leon was out of reach for now, but Trent was right here, and I was ready to deal with him once and for all.

"No second chances, Trent," I growled, my voice ricocheting off the chapel walls. His eyes widened in realisation, but before he could react, I was on him.

My hand curled around a stone candleholder, its weight comforting in my grip. With a swift, ruthless movement, I brought it crashing down on Trent’s skull. There was a sickening crack, and Trent let out a strangled gasp, his body convulsing once before going still.

Blood pooled around his head, staining the stone floor of the chapel. I dropped the candleholder, its thud barely audible over the pounding in my ears. Trent was dead, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.