Her guard, her temptation

16

kaira astor

Large, rough hand, tan and veiny and my eyes widen as I stare at the back of his hand. Tattoo. A tattoo on his left hand. My mouth parts as I stare at the black widow stretched over the back of his hand. The details of the tattoo are almost terrifying, the legs of the spider stretching out, stopping at his knuckles. I drop my gaze and stare down at my ruined converse. His warmth seeps through my skin and I bite down on the shiver threatening to roll down my spine. My vision turns blurry, pain throbbing in my clenched hand and I suck in a sharp breath. Leave, leave, leave. 'Another time.' I bite down on the side of my cheek, his body looming over mine, a shadow falling over me. "I want to leave." I mumble, my voice splitting right open as the hiss of pain burns through my fingers.

I feel Zyran lower, his hair tickling the side of my cheek and his breath falling over my shoulder and collarbone. Heat rushes down my body. "You want your little desperate best friend to know that you were just in my room?" His voice is low, my ears ringing as he speaks. She's not desperate. I clench my jaw. "You want the guards that watch you every day to know that you were just in my room?" Zyran shifts closer, and I can feel the warmth of his body seep into the material of my shirt, crawling up my spine as he moves closer.

"Do you want your father to know that you've been sneaking into your new guards' room and that same guard had you pinned to the bed?" His voice is hushed and low, shooting straight through me to my core and I roll my bottom lip into my mouth, trapping it between my teeth. My thighs tremble and I clench them. His soft, warm lips brush over the shell of my ear. "If you walk out of this room right now, everyone in this kingdom will know what a dirty little princess you are." Zyran breathes out against my ear and goosebumps prick at my skin, painfully so. "You want that?" He taunts, my body jolting when his other hand lifts, his fingertips drifting down my arm.

How does he do that? Draw me in so completely, utter these things and make me feel like my entire body wants to explode. I squeeze my eyes shut, panting as I vibrate with heat. Every part of my being wants to lean back into him, lean into the words he's speaking. This isn't right. Zyran wraps his fingers around my arm and spins me around, pushing me into the door. My lips fall agape, my eyes fluttering up to meet his. God, he's big. Zyran hovers over me, engulfing and consuming the space around me, making me feel as if I'm standing in the shadow of a tree. "Answer me," His voice is calm but firm.

I lean further into the wall, swallowing the lump forming in my throat, his eyes drops to the motion. "No." I mumble, my voice breathless, weak. I honestly can't find the strength to care about that right now, I'm too wrapped up in him and his forest scent and green eyes and warmth and shadows and darkness and words. Lifting his hand, he lightly moves strands of hair out of my face, his fingertips lightly grazing my cheek. His eyes pierce through mine, heat coiling in my lower stomach. "Come, " He murmurs lowly, the sound a grumble to my ears and my eyebrows cave in. What?

I shake my head lightly. "I'm not going anywhere with you." I might've absolutely lost my mind and brushed my lips against his, but that doesn't even come close to erasing the hate I have for him in my heart. He's too reckless and too observant and too unpredictable and way too dark. Zyran slants his head to the side, slightly narrowing his eyes as he watches me. "You're bleeding on my floor." He says it so calmly that it takes me a second to process his words. Bleeding? My eyes fall away from his and down to the floor, a gasp lodging in my throat. Drops of crimson are splattered on his floor, sliding down my fingers and dripping down on the wood. f**k.

My hand throbs. "Let me go to my room then." I murmur, my eyes stinging as the adrenaline fades away, and the pain starts climbing up my arm. Zyran doesn't say anything, but the heat of his eyes trail down the side of my face. He's probably enjoying this-- seeing me in pain. I tilt my head back and look up at him. This man is everything I should be afraid of. I can see it in his eyes, see it in the way he watches me. I can see the malice coating the green in his eyes. He hates me. Looking up at him right now, his eyes soften only slightly, a flicker of warmth rushing through his hues before it falls away, and he clenches his jaw, the muscles prompt in his cheeks. He flicks his eyes between mine, searching for something.

Swiftly, he reaches down and wraps his fingers around my wrist, his hold gentle but firm and turns, leading me toward the bathroom. I press my lips into a thin line, dropping my eyes to the floor as I shuffle along behind him. I can't leave the room right now, anyway. Well, that's what I keep telling myself. With my other hand, I tuck strands of hair behind my ear and follow him into the bathroom. Halting in the doorway, my eyes roam around the room. The bathroom isn't as spacious as mine, but it's also not as small as the other guards' bathrooms. It's so clean and so neat. I inhale deeply. It smells like him.

My eyes cast back to his as he crouches down, opening the cupboard underneath the sink and pulls out a first aid kit. Standing to his full height, he places the bag on the sink, his hair falling over his face as he zips open the bag, pulling out guaze, salve, scissors, bandages and some cleaning wipes. "Sit," He gestures toward the sink without lifting his head and I gulp. He wants me to sit there? My hand falls, and I catch the hem of my shirt between my fingers, pressing down on the material. This is such a bad f*****g idea.

"You want me to sit on the sink?" I almost squeak out, my eyes frantically falling between him and the sink. I'd rather stand. Slowly, Zyran lifts his head only slightly, watching me through his lashes and strands of hair, his eyes roving over my face, and he drops his gaze to my fingers pinching the hem of the shirt. The side of his mouth twitches up into a smirk, and he looks back up at me. "Problem?" He asks, lifting his head and focuses solely on me, pushing the tip of his tongue into the side of his cheek, his eyes burning through me. As if he knows what I'm feeling, as if he can see straight through me. As if he sees me. Of course, there's a problem. This man terrifies me, but at the same time, he makes rage flood through my veins so intensely that sometimes I want to strangle him. I huff out a breath of air and lower my eyes to the tattoo on his neck.

"No." I breathe out and push the tip of my tongue to the roof of my mouth, padding toward the sink, inches away from him. I squirm underneath his gaze and place my palms behind me on the sink, ready to push myself up but wince when I put pressure on the cuts. Oh, f*****g great. Zyran moves close, wrapping his hands around my waist and heaves me up onto the counter, as if I weigh absolutely nothing. I shift backward, trying to move as far away from him as I can. Rolling my lips into my mouth and I place both hands on my lap, staring down at the cuts on my right hand. It's better than looking at him. I chew on my bottom lip, blinking down at each cut on every finger, and one on my palm. It hurts like a b***h. Being close to Zyran hurts even more. My fingers start rolling into fists.

"Open your hand," Zyran demands, dropping everything down beside my thighs and steps in front of me, towering over me. I refuse to glance up at him. My fingers twitch open, and I shrink back as his large, tattooed hand wraps around my thin wrist. Lifting cleaning wipes, he rips the packet open with his teeth, and pulls one out. He keeps my wrist in his hand, holding it steady and when he starts to wipe the blood from my palm and fingers, I jolt, hissing as pain darts through me. f**k, that stings. Zyran halts and I can feel his eyes flick to my face, but I keep my gaze lowered, frightened at what emotion will be flinting through his eyes. After a long pause, that has heat flooding to my cheeks and my breath escaping me in shaky exhales, he returns to cleaning the cuts. I bite down on my bottom lip, swallowing the pain until he's done cleaning away the blood, and breathe out a sigh of relief.

My wrist in between his palm falls limp, and my breathing evens out. I peek up at him through my lashes, watching his face as he lightly spreads ointment over the cuts. A small crease gathers between his dark eyebrows as he concentrates on the cuts, his eyes slightly narrowed and his lips parted. Strands of silky black hair falls over his forehead and I can't but gape at how terrifyingly beautiful he is. My heart gallops in my chest and my hands tingle every time he swipes his finger over my skin. His fingers around my wrist, right above my pulse flexes and my mouth runs dry. So swiftly, he flicks his eyes up, meeting my gaze with intense green hues and I gasp. "If you keep staring at me like that, you'll be limping out of this bathroom."