Kia's eyes darted frantically around the dense forest, desperately searching for any sign of help. Daniel lay beside her, his life ebbing away. Panic clawed at her throat. She couldn't let him die, not yet. Not before she punished him for his transgression, for taking advantage of her.
"Don't you dare," she sobbed, clutching his hand. "We still have a long way to go together. I still have to punish you for what you did, and that's why I *have* to save you. You owe me your life." But how? How could she save him with no medical supplies, no knowledge, only the vast, unforgiving wilderness around them?
She checked his pulse – faint, but present. She elevated his legs against a rock, hoping to slow the venom's spread. Her mind raced, desperately searching for a solution. Then, a memory surfaced – her grandmother's tale of a plant with broad leaves and purple flowers, a legendary cure for snakebites and other ailments. It was a long shot, a desperate hope fueled by a childhood story, but it was all she had.
"It grows in damp, dark places," her grandmother's voice echoed in her memory. Ironically, she found herself in the perfect location.
Without hesitation, Kia plunged into the forest's depths, calling out to Daniel to hold on. As she searched, her anger warred with a dawning realization. Daniel's infuriating smile, his piercing gaze – even his objectionable behavior – were moments she might never experience again.
Finally, she found it – the plant, its purple blossoms a beacon of hope. She raced back to Daniel, tearing leaves and frantically applying them to his wound, praying for a miracle.
Minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity. Then, Daniel's eyes fluttered open. His gaze was unfocused, but he was alive. Relief washed over Kia in a tidal wave of tears.
"You're going to be okay," she whispered, holding his hand tight. "I've got you." She hugged him, her joy overwhelming. His slight cough, however, jolted her back to reality. She carefully repositioned him, apologizing for any discomfort as she cradled him, her body aching from holding him for so long. His weak, amused gaze met hers from her lap, though she didn't notice at first.
"Are you worried about me?" he asked.
Kia blinked, startled. "Are you feeling better?"
He sat up suddenly, surprising her. "You… you're not fine yet you just…" she stammered.
"I'm fine," he interrupted, "Just a snakebite."
Kia's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Just a snakebite? You almost died, and you call it *just* a snakebite?" Anger flared. Had he even cared? Had he become accustomed to risking his life, uncaring of the consequences? Tears welled up again. His emotionless expression confirmed her fear.
"I wouldn't have died, though," he said, standing.
"Do you think you're immortal?" Kia exploded, her voice raw with frustration. Had she wasted all that time, all that energy, for this? His words implied he believed he would have survived without her. "A simple 'thank you' would have sufficed!"
But no, not even those few words escaped his lips. She was consumed by a raging flame of regret. If only she hadn't cared, if only she hadn't felt the impending ache of his absence. Without another word, she rose to leave, but he stopped her, his grip on her arm firm. She tried to pull away, but he hauled her back forcefully, her struggles futile.
He carried her into their small house, directly to the bed. He laid her down, effectively trapping her beneath him. Her eyes darted, a sudden, chilling premonition of danger seizing her, yet she saw nothing but a dark, emotionless void in his eyes.
Her eyes trembled, stretching wide as they locked with his before finally surrendering, fluttering closed. This time, she wouldn't fight, wouldn't plead. If he wanted her, he could have her. She felt his hand clasp hers, guiding it to his chest.
"Help me remove it," he rasped, the hoarse plea forcing her eyes open. His shamelessness was breathtaking. But she obeyed. Let him destroy her. Tomorrow, the jungle beasts would find her remains. With a fierce, almost anticipatory hunger in her gaze, she swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. She even lingered, savoring the moment before her fingers finally freed the garment.
But the sight that met her eyes was shocking. His entire chest was a bruised, alarming purple. She'd seen his chest before, countless times, but never like this. This was the first time. The unnatural hue sent a jolt of fear through her. Was the poison still in him? Why was his chest this color? Terror flooded her, and her gaze flew to his eyes, seeking answers in their depths.
He smirked, then cupped her chin. "Tell me," he said, his voice low, "Do you want me dead or alive?" Kia's eyes widened in confusion. His words hung in the air, unanswered, as he abruptly released her and began buttoning his shirt.
"Since you don't want me so much," he continued, his back to her as he finished dressing, "don't worry. Soon, very soon, I won't be in your sight anymore." Then he left, leaving Kia speechless. One thought hammered relentlessly in her mind: *Was he dying?* The notion was absurd. That arrogant, emotionless man, so self-absorbed, so relentlessly focused on his desires, and yet, paradoxically, always protecting her, always… *molesting* her… How could *he* die?
Kia lay on the bed, her eyes closed, resolutely pushing thoughts of Daniel away. She refused to feel sorry for him; she simply wanted to go home. But as sleep claimed her, his words echoed in her mind: "You're mine."
Later that night, he arrived with food. She accepted it, hungry, and ate. The next morning, she awoke to his voice, his announcement of their departure surprising her. Once, the news would have thrilled her, but now it elicited only a faint, beautiful smile—a smile that, she hoped, conveyed her quiet happiness.
During their journey, she noticed his uncanny familiarity with the route. He seemed intimately acquainted with the surroundings. They reached the city within hours. Though questions burned in her mind, she remained silent. He deposited her at her family's home and left immediately, not waiting to speak with her father or anyone else. He simply vanished.