CHAPTER 8

"You think I can forget what you've done, Darius?" The air between us was heavy with anxiety, and as I walked the tiny cabin, my voice shook. The ensuing stillness was heavier than the words I had spoken. "Can you even hear yourself? All the secrets, the manipulation."

Darius sat on the side of the bed, stiff but resigned. With a tiny bend of his head, his frigid, silver eyes, which appeared to cut right through my soul, burned with such intensity that I couldn't take my eyes off of them. Then he murmured, "I hear you loud and clear, Maya," in a gravelly whisper. "But you refuse to see the bigger picture."

I abruptly turned on him as I paused in mid-step. "And what is that? That you are the protagonist of this twisted story? Because you think you know better, you've justified all of your nasty, cunning actions?"

Then he stood, towering over me. We argued so much that the cabin seemed to get smaller. There was a tangible vibration of his displeasure between us. “You think I like this? That I wanted any of this?

“Oh, poor you. I spat, my voice brimming with disdain."The tortured villain. As if that absolves you from the choices you've made."

His cheek muscle twitched as his jaw tightened. “Alright. Hate me all you want. But tell me something, Maya. His presence was both intoxicating and suffocating as he moved closer. "Why are you still here? Why haven't you run?”

I momentarily lost my speaking ability as his question cut through my defenses. As my throat constricted, the answer I didn't want to admit forced its way to the top. Why hadn't I run?

Finally, my voice trembling slightly under the pressure of his inspection, I murmured, "I don't owe you an answer."

His voice was sweet yet deadly, like a razor concealed in silk, when he answered, "No. But it seems like you're scared of the answer."

"Afraid?" I scoffed, though it wasn't as strong as I had hoped. “Of you? Stop flattering.”

"You are not afraid of me." I had nowhere to go when my back struck the wall as he stepped closer. I felt a chill go down my spine as his voice faded to a whisper. "It is what you feel when you're with me."

My heart was thumping in my ears as I swallowed forcefully. "You've got delusions."

"And yet, you're not pushing me away." I hated how much I wanted to kiss or remove the arrogant smile from his face as his lips curled into it.

“You think you’re irresistible?” I lost my temper, attempting to recover some control.

He whispered, his breath grazing my skin, "I don't think. I know."

His thumb brushed my jawline tenderly, contrasting strongly with the fire in his eyes, and cupped my cheek before I could respond with a rebuttal.

"Stop,". I whispered but it sounded more like a plea than an order.

"Stop what?" There was a sensual purr in his voice. "This?" His fingers tangled in my hair as his hand moved to the back of my neck, sending an electric jolt through me.

I should have stopped him. It was better of me to push him away. Instead, I kissed him, which is the one thing I vowed never to do.

The tension between us exploded into a fireball the instant our lips met. I was speechless by the collision of rage and want; it wasn't gentle or hesitant but rather raw and frantic. I felt the total intensity of his need, greed, and frustration as his hands tightened around my waist and pulled me into him.

"Maya," he snarled into my mouth, his voice gruff with desire.

I was incapable of thinking or speaking. I was losing myself in him, in the way his kiss wiped out all of my lucid thoughts, and his touch burned my flesh. My hands moved to his shirt, gripping the material as though it were the only thing keeping me grounded.

His forehead pressed against mine as he gasped for air, abruptly breaking the kiss. He said, "Tell me to stop," in a low, rumbling voice that made my skin crawl.

"Don't," I muttered, my voice hardly audible.

He only needed that.

He lifted me in one motion, his strength bringing me to the bed with ease. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and his lips were back on mine, this time more demanding, as he wanted to take possession of every inch of me.

His weight was exhilarating, as was the heat of his body on mine. As his hands moved over my body, they ignited every nerve ending they came into contact with, making me arch into him and yearn for more.

However, the moment was shattered as soon as it started.

A knock on the door startled us both like a sword piercing the mist.

A strained, frantic voice came from the other side, saying, "Darius. There's a problem."

He withdrew, his face growing severe as reality smashed in our faces. With an unarguable tone, he said, "Stay here."

My chest was heaving as I sat up, trying to take in what had just happened. "What is going on?"

He grabbed his jacket quickly and swiftly and said, "There's nothing to worry about."

I stood to confront him and yelled, "Don't patronize me. If I am involved, then I need to know."

"It's not about you," he replied abruptly, his eyes glimmering with what appeared to be suspicious remorse.

I retorted, unwilling to concede, "But it involves you. That means it's my problem."

For a second, thought he might argue as his jaw tightened. Then, in exasperation, he sighed and combed through his hair. Reluctantly, he admitted, "Lysander has made his move. I need to handle it."

"Handle it? How?" I pressed with a knot in my gut.

He said plainly, "By doing what I do best," in a tone that left no room for additional questions.

The door slammed behind him as he left before I could reply.

The air was more relaxed, and the room felt emptier without him. As I sat on the bed, questions were circling in my head. What had Lysander done? What made Darius feel the need to deal with it alone?

Outside the cabin, I was startled out of my reverie by an abrupt commotion. I approached the window and carefully peered out. Before a figure that sent shivers down my spine entered the moonlight, all I could see were shadows.

There was something about them that shouted danger, even though they were covered in black and had their faces hidden. No matter who they were, I couldn't get rid of the impression that they had the answers I was seeking despite my instincts telling me to keep silent and to remain hidden.

With my fingers shaking a little, I grabbed the dagger Darius had left on the table. Whatever was coming up, I wouldn't go into it unprepared.

As I'm about to face the shadowy figure outside the cabin, the door creaks open, and a familiar voice whispers my name.

“Maya.”