Unwanted Attraction To The Enemy
1069 Words
Seraphina stood rooted to the spot, her hand frozen on the bathroom door she had just swung open.
She had expected a cold, empty space, maybe some semblance of privacy where she could gather herself. What she found instead was… him.
Adolphus.
The scene before her felt surreal, like something plucked straight from an absurd dream.
There he was, standing under the pale light streaming in from the bathroom’s small, frosted window. His back was turned to her, broad and sculpted, every muscle taut and rippling as he moved.
His dark hair was damp, curling slightly at the edges, and his skin glistened faintly, kissed by droplets of water.
He was… dancing.
Not just any dance, but a careless, almost playful sway of his hips that was entirely at odds with the ruthless, brooding predator she had come to associate him with.
The rhythm of his movements carried an odd sort of grace—wild and untamed, like him.
Her eyes widened as they trailed down his back, over the lines of his shoulder blades and the curve of his spine, to the lean muscles of his waist and hips.
The man was infuriatingly perfect, every inch of him exuding an almost otherworldly allure.
He wasn’t just attractive—he was magnetic, a force of nature designed to disarm and consume.
She was so caught in the moment that she didn’t even notice when he turned.
Adolphus pivoted slowly, his movements deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.
The sharp angle of his jaw came into view first, then the foam-covered edge of his chin.
He was in the middle of shaving, the blade in one hand as he paused mid-motion.
And those eyes—dark, penetrating, and gleaming with a mixture of mischief and amusement—locked onto hers.
“Hello, Butterfly,” he bellowed, his voice low and teasing, the words echoing through the small space like a challenge.
Her breath caught in her throat as he winked at her, a cocky, almost boyish gesture that made her stomach twist.
It was infuriating. It was maddening.
It was unfair.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she suddenly became acutely aware of how ridiculous she must have looked, standing there wide-eyed and slack-jawed like a fool.
She slammed the door shut with more force than necessary, her heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst from her chest.
For a moment, she stood there, her back pressed against the closed door, her palm flat against her chest as if to steady the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.
She gasped for air, her breaths coming in sharp and uneven.
“What the hell was that?” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.
From inside the bathroom, she heard his laugh—soft, deep, and thoroughly amused. It was the kind of laugh that sent a shiver down her spine, a sound that mocked her without words.
She shook her head violently, as if trying to rid herself of the image that was now burned into her mind. The sharp cut of his cheekbones.
The playful tilt of his lips. The way the foam clung to his chin like some devilish afterthought.
Get it together, Sera!
She couldn’t stand there any longer. The hallway felt suffocating, his presence bleeding through the walls.
Turning on her heel, she walked briskly toward the window at the end of the corridor, needing air, needing space, needing anything but him.
Leaning against the windowsill, she gazed outside, her eyes unfocused as her thoughts spiraled.
What just happened?
Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of her reaction.
She was supposed to hate him. She did hate him. He was her captor, her enemy, the man who had led the attack that took everything from her.
So why?
Why had her breath hitched at the sight of him? Why had her heart stuttered when he turned those maddening eyes on her?
Why had she been drawn to him, captivated by the very thing she should despise?
She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as she forced herself to focus.
He was a killer. A monster. Nothing more.
But her traitorous mind whispered otherwise, replaying the image of his smirk, the way his body moved with effortless confidence. She shook her head again, this time more violently.
“No,” she muttered under her breath. “No, no, no.”
This wasn’t who she was. She wasn’t some weak, infatuated girl who could be swayed by a pretty face—or, in his case, a perfect one.
But the memory lingered, stubborn and unshakable, and as much as she wanted to bury it, she knew it wasn’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon.
And she was still pressed. Her body felt sticky and grimy, her skin crawling with the remnants of last night’s restless sleep.
The need to wash up was almost as strong as the need to escape from the lingering humiliation of what had just happened.
Seraphina stood frozen for a moment, her back still pressed against the wall, as she struggled to school her reaction.
Her emotions were a wild storm threatening to overtake her—embarrassment, anger, confusion.
Her cheeks burned as she recalled his smirk, the glint in his eyes, the way his deep, mocking voice had rolled over her like a challenge.
But she wouldn’t let it show. No, she refused to let him have that power over her.
She straightened, smoothing her hands down the front of her tattered clothing, forcing her breathing to even out.
Her body was another matter entirely—still tense, still betraying her with the way her heart thudded a little too hard in her chest.
Moments later, she heard the bathroom door creak open, and her spine stiffened instinctively.
She refused to look his way, though she felt his presence like a weight pressing on the air around her.
He stepped into the hallway with the same infuriatingly casual confidence that made her grit her teeth.
But to her surprise, Adolphus didn’t say a word. He didn’t even glance at her.
Her brow furrowed as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, his broad shoulders and damp hair catching the faint light.
He walked down the hall as if she weren’t even there, his bare feet silent against the wooden floorboards.
- Writer
