09 - Tension
1013 Words
Elise woke in a rush of breath and heat.
The room was dim, wrapped in the glow of orange lights embedded into the walls like smoldering embers. Everything was quiet—unnaturally quiet—save for the thrumming inside her chest, steady and wild all at once.
She tried to sit up.
A hand caught her wrist.
Her vision adjusted, blinking through the haze. The first thing she saw was Vael.
He sat at her bedside, unmoving but utterly present. His long frame folded neatly in a chair made of dark metal and velvet, one arm resting on his thigh, the other wrapped tightly around her wrist. Holding. Containing.
His head was slightly bowed, crimson strands of hair falling over one eye, and his expression—calm. Almost... serene.
Power radiated off him, controlled and purposeful, unlike the chaos that had consumed her hours before. She could feel the way his energy had wrapped around hers, keeping it steady. Holding back the tide she hadn’t known how to stop.
A sick twist of anger churned in her stomach.
“What are you doing?” Her voice cut through the silence, sharp as a blade.
Vael didn’t flinch. His head lifted slowly, his eyes meeting hers with infuriating ease. “Keeping you from turning the room to ash.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “You were a disaster.”
Elise yanked her wrist back. His fingers slid away without resistance, but the warmth lingered, seeping under her skin like poison—or worse, comfort.
She sat up fully, teeth grit. She hated that her breath was shaky. Hated that he’d seen her like that—losing control, consumed by her own power. Hated that he had helped.
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
Vael leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, eyes still locked on her like she was the only thing worth seeing. “You didn’t have to.” A pause. Then, a slow, maddening grin. “If I hadn’t grounded you, your own power would’ve eaten you alive.”
She stood abruptly. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she held her ground.
She was still in one piece. Still breathing. Still alive. Because of him.
And that made her furious.
She didn’t know where she was going, but her feet took her out of the room, down a set of narrow black-marble stairs, and into a dark, open space lit by deep crimson hues.
A bar.
Of course Vael would have a bar in his territory—his sanctuary of sin and shadows. The place reeked of indulgence and secrets. The counter was sleek obsidian, with bottles lining the wall in neat, glowing rows. Everything looked expensive. And dangerous.
Elise poured the first drink with shaking hands. Something clear and sharp. She didn’t ask what it was.
She downed it in one go, the burn grounding her more than anything else had in days.
She poured another.
He arrived before she could take the next sip.
Vael moved like smoke—silent, fluid. He took the seat beside her with a casual grace that made her want to punch him.
He didn’t speak immediately. Just watched her, expression unreadable.
“You really hate me so much, kitten,” he asked at last, voice calm. Curious.
It wasn’t a challenge. Not mockery. It was something worse.
Genuine.
Her fingers curled tightly around the glass.
“Because you’re cruel,” she said, refusing to look at him. “Because you manipulate everything around you. Because people disappear when you get involved.” She turned to him then, eyes burning. “Because you don’t care.”
Vael gave a low chuckle, quiet and humorless. “Cruelty is a tool, Elise. One I’ve mastered because this world demands it.”
She glared at him. “That’s a pathetic excuse.”
“It’s survival.” He turned his gaze forward, eyes distant. “But then... I suppose you’d know something about that too, wouldn’t you?”
Her heart skipped.
Something in his voice—something raw and knowing.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
He turned toward her slowly, his gaze boring into hers. “I know what it looks like when someone’s drowning in power they can’t control. I know what it feels like to want to tear yourself open just to get it out.”
Elise froze.
The drink in her hand trembled.
“You don’t—”
“You’re terrified of yourself,” he cut in gently. “Terrified of what you’ll do. Of what you’ve already done.”
She opened her mouth—then closed it.
He was too close. The air between them is too heavy. Like gravity shifted to keep them locked in place.
“I’ve seen that look before.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “In the mirror.”
The confession was soft. Real. Unarmored.
Elise should have pulled away. Should have stood, thrown the glass, left.
But she didn’t.
She turned back toward the bar, exhaling slowly. Her voice came out quieter this time.
“So what? You think we’re the same now?”
Vael leaned closer, one elbow resting on the counter beside her.
“No,” he said, voice low and rich with something dark. “You’re still pretending you’re better than me.” A pause. Then, softer, “But I see the way your hands shake when you think no one’s looking. I know what it means when you clench your jaw to keep from screaming. I see you, Elise. The real you. Not the hero. Not the spy. The girl who’s burning from the inside out.”
She stared at the wall in front of her. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Her breath was shallow. Her heart is a war drum.
The silence between them felt like the pause before lightning.
He was wrong. He had to be.
And yet...
He wasn’t.
Not entirely.
The weight in her chest loosened—not much, but just enough to breathe.
She should have walked away.
But she stayed.
- Writer
