"I have six wraths; it's a little rare, but it helps me a lot," he said casually, though his words sent an electric shock of alarm through my entire being. A surge of panic shot through my mind like a blaring alarm, screaming in bold letters: 'He's fucking dangerous. Get away from him right now.'
That feeling was impossible to ignore, an instinctive warning I couldn't shake. It hit me so strongly that it felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, tightening my breath. I didn't need to listen to that voice in my head; my body was already reacting, the fight-or-flight response kicking in. I stepped back, putting just a little more space between us, as if the distance would somehow protect me from whatever malevolent energy was radiating off of him. I didn't trust him—not one bit. Not after everything he'd done so far, and certainly not with the way he looked at me, like he knew something I didn't. His gaze was intense, as though he were studying me with a knowing smirk.
The air around us seemed to thicken, and a humming tension buzzed in my ears. It didn't make it any easier to concentrate or calm myself down.
"You're with that savage look in your eyes again," he said, his voice dipping into something between amusement and annoyance. It made me want to snap back at him, but I knew I had to stay focused. He was clearly enjoying this—watching me wrestle with the dangerous pull between my instincts and my reason.
I held his gaze, unblinking, trying to keep my composure as the anger simmered just under the surface. "Who are you, truly?" I demanded, my voice steady, even though inside my heart was racing. There was something I needed to know, something deep in my gut that wouldn't let me stop. It wasn't just simple curiosity—it was a desperate urge to figure out who he was and why he was playing these games with me. Why me? Why now?
He didn't respond right away, and for a moment, that silence stretched between us like a thick rope pulling tighter. Then, with a smirk that only deepened my unease, he finally spoke. "Oh Gods, I was waiting for this question," he said with a mock enthusiasm that made my skin crawl. "But I won't answer it yet."
Of course, he wouldn't. It was becoming painfully clear he enjoyed keeping me on edge, dangling just out of reach.
His eyes locked onto mine again, and a shiver ran down my spine. "So, I feel something powerful coming from you," he continued, his tone casual, but there was a hint of something more—curiosity, maybe. Or maybe something darker. "Could you tell me how many wraths you have, dear?"
The word dear sent another jolt of warning through me. He said it so lightly, so playfully, but the sensation that crawled up my spine was anything but pleasant. It was like his every word was a carefully placed thread pulling me closer to something I didn't want to know.
A chill spread across my neck and arms, and for a brief second, my mind wavered. How much did he really know about me? My mouth was dry, my senses on high alert, but I couldn't let him see how much he was affecting me. I had to stay in control, even as my instincts screamed that I was way out of my depth.
I swallowed hard and straightened my back. My thoughts sharpened as I locked my gaze onto him again. "Oh, come on, we're far from this road, don't come back there," I bit out, my teeth clenched together. The unease clawing at me was almost unbearable, but I forced myself to stay calm, to not let him see how rattled I felt.
But of course, he noticed.
He was far too observant, and he could tell by the tightness in my posture, the way my muscles tensed, that I was barely holding it together.
"So... it's four or five, right?" he asked, his voice light, but there was a deeper tone of amusement there, like he was toying with me.
I didn't like where this was going. This bastard—this fucking bastard—was playing some game I didn't want to be part of. He wasn't just asking questions; he was trying to provoke a reaction, and I was done with that.
"What the hell do you want with me?" I snapped, my patience on the edge of breaking. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides, my breath coming faster now, the adrenaline rushing through my veins. I needed answers, but every word he spoke was pulling me deeper into something I wasn't sure I was ready for.
His grin widened, dark and knowing, and my stomach turned at the sight of it. "I need you," he said simply, as though the words held all the meaning in the world, as though I should just accept them. His calm demeanor was infuriating, like everything he said was so matter-of-fact, like I had no choice but to believe him.
Why the hell did my heart race? It shouldn't have. I shouldn't have been affected like this. I wasn't some naive, love-struck teenager to get caught up in whatever he was pulling. I wasn't going to let him see the effect he had on me.
"What did you say? Are you crazy?" I asked, my voice betraying me with a slight breathlessness I couldn't control. His words had done something to me, and I hated it. I hated the way he made me feel vulnerable.
But he wasn't bothered by my reaction. If anything, it seemed to amuse him even more. He shrugged nonchalantly, his smirk still in place. "There's some dark shit happening with all the races, and I want to stop this before it messes with everything irreversibly," he said, his voice suddenly taking on a seriousness I hadn't expected. For a split second, his demeanor shifted, and it made me hesitate. "But, unfortunately, I cannot do this alone."
I felt the weight of his words press down on me, suffocating my breath. Was this some kind of sick joke? Some manipulative speech meant to make me feel like I was the only one who could help? Was he trying to use me?
"You bastard!" I almost yelled, my anger bubbling over. "You were searching for me? You already knew what I was and that I was here?" My hands clenched tighter, and I stood up straighter, forcing myself to breathe through the rage that threatened to overtake me. I had to stay in control. I couldn't let him see how much he was throwing me off balance.
"Calm down, little witch," he said, his voice still annoyingly calm, though there was something a little sharper beneath the surface now. "The only thing I knew was that in this area lived someone with one of the strongest soulgics in the whole kingdom. I didn't know if it was a woman or a man, if it was a fae, a witch, a werewolf, a fairy, or whatever. But when I was nearby, I sensed a ridiculously good smell of something that looked like a witch, but I knew it couldn't be just a simple witch."
My stomach dropped at the mention of soulgics, and my blood ran cold. How did he know this? How did he know about me? How did he even have this kind of information?
"How did you know all of this?" I demanded, my voice low and harsh, every muscle in my body tensed, ready to act if I needed to. His uncomfortable shift was the only sign I had that I was even remotely getting under his skin.
"We had a magical device that can show all the soulgics in the kingdom," he answered reluctantly, as though revealing something he hadn't intended to. "If we extend the reach, we can see the soulgics on the whole continent. That's how I found you."
He was uncomfortable with the question, and I saw it—brief as it was—but it was there. For a second, I thought I had him cornered. But just as quickly as that thought entered my mind, it vanished, replaced by another question I couldn't stop myself from asking.
"Excuse me, are you a fucking noble?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, sharp and biting. His reaction was immediate—he rolled his eyes and sighed, clearly annoyed.
Taking a deep breath, he finally answered, his voice flat. "You're quick to judge."
And I hated him for it. I hated the way he looked at me like I was nothing, like I was just some puzzle he was solving, as if my every move was nothing more than a game to him.