Silvia's POV
"Wake up!"
What happened? Everything hurts.
A wave of pain surged through me, and an unfamiliar feeling of distress tightened around my heart. This ache was reminiscent of a time I thought I had buried long ago.
"Mate!"
My eyes flew open to a pair of fierce red eyes—beautiful yet dangerous, reminiscent of a pair that once captivated me in another life.
"Mate!" The word echoed with a deep, heavy growl that stole the air from my lungs. And then I saw him, and all rational thought dissolved. My breath caught in my throat; my heart raced as I took in his older, more striking features. Was it possible for someone to become this much more beautiful? He looked like a Greek god, crafted to haunt my dreams and torment my waking moments.
In the blink of an eye, his lips crashed against mine, and everything else fell away. The world melted into nothingness, leaving only the fire igniting between us. Our lips reunited with a fervor that felt both familiar and forbidden, igniting memories long buried. My heart pounded, threatening to burst as a low growl vibrated from his chest, sending an electric jolt through me.
Fuelled by a storm of conflicting emotions, I pressed my lips against his, a mixture of hatred and longing surging within me. But as he pushed me closer to the bed, a blinding pain shot through my abdomen, tearing me from the intoxicating haze of our kiss.
I moaned in agony, the heat in my stomach flaring into a burning inferno. Sweat pooled on my brow as I struggled to regain control.
"I'm so sorry! I lost control. Are you okay? I'll call the doctor!" His voice was frantic, but all I could focus on was the searing pain radiating through me.
In a moment of raw emotion, fueled by pain and years of pent-up rage, I raised my hand and slapped him hard. The impact rang through the room, followed by a heavy silence. Regret washed over me like a cold wave as I saw the shock in his eyes, the growl rumbling in his throat sending chills down my spine.
"I'm sorry," I stammered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. Even if I hated him, he was the one who had saved me. I should have been grateful, not angry.
He seemed taken aback by my apology. I couldn't believe it myself; I was not one to offer apologies lightly, especially not to him.
"No, don't apologize. I shouldn't have kissed you when you were clearly in pain. I guess I got too excited seeing you," he replied, his voice steady yet tinged with something darker.
The familiar scent of him enveloped me, an intoxicating blend of sandalwood, cedar, and a hint of spicy cardamom. It was warm and inviting yet laced with danger, a potent reminder of everything I wanted to forget. The aroma wrapped around me like a silken embrace, whispering promises of safety and protection, yet lurking beneath was an undeniable threat.
I had imagined this moment countless times, but every scenario ended in violence, each fantasy culminating in me stabbing him. Why couldn't I summon that fierce anger now?
"Why did you kiss me?" My voice was soft, almost vulnerable, betraying the turmoil within me. After everything he and his family had done, how could he dare to cross that line?
His eyes flashed with a cold fire at my question, a realization dawning in him.
"Like I said, I got too excited," he replied, the clipped tone stoking the flames of my anger.
I scoffed, incredulous. "Too excited?"
"Well, it was nice and all. Thank you for saving me, but I need to go now." My voice rose as I angrily ripped the blanket off, attempting to stand on shaky legs. I overestimated my strength and stumbled, but before I hit the ground, he was there—his warm scent enveloping me as his hands caught me.
My body responded involuntarily, awakening feelings I hadn't felt in a decade. The electricity between us crackled, and in that moment, I was reminded of how alive I felt when he was near.
He set me down on the bed with an intensity that both startled and infuriated me. "So what? You're just going to leave again?" His voice was calm, but the rage in his eyes was unmistakable.
"What do you mean 'again'?" I retorted, forcing calmness into my voice despite the storm brewing within me.
"I mean, you want to run, as you always do, at the slightest discomfort," he said, gesturing toward my bruised body. The aching pain in my head flared in response to his words.
"Isn't your life just perfect, with a lovely house and a charmed existence? You wouldn't recognize real problems if they smacked you in the face," I snapped, rage boiling over.
"Yes, my life has been perfect… perfect since the day you left, Silvia," he shot back, his tone laced with taunting bitterness.
His words struck deep, igniting a firestorm of fury within me. Maybe I was more sensitive than I realized, but his arrogance pushed me over the edge. Before I knew it, I leaped to his side and swung a punch, fueled by unrestrained anger.
He reacted instantly, catching my wrist before I could land the blow. I struggled against his grip, the desperate need to lash out fueling my fight.
"I hate you!" I spat, my heart racing with a blend of fury and fear. "I hate everything you represent!"
He held me there, our faces mere inches apart, the air crackling with unspoken tension. I could see the conflict in his eyes—the pull of our shared history battling against the anger that separated us.
"I know you do," he said, his voice low and heavy, "But you're not going to run this time. Not from me. Not from us."