Chapter 10: The Deadliest Game
Roya sat at her desk, the glow of her laptop casting a faint light across the room. The mansion was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood or the gentle rustle of the wind outside. She had written all day, chipping away at a new manuscript, trying to forget about him—Emris Malachai. But no matter how much she typed, how many chapters she churned out, he lingered at the back of her mind, a presence she couldn't quite shake.
Just as her fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to begin another line, a soft clink sounded from across the room. Roya's eyes darted toward the source. The vase on the shelf had moved. Slightly. Just enough to catch her attention. She narrowed her eyes.
"Really, Emris?" she muttered under her breath, already sensing his presence before she saw him.
"You're so predictable, Roya," a familiar voice purred from behind her. She didn't turn. She didn't need to. She could feel him. His power buzzed in the air, palpable, like static before a storm.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," she said coolly, keeping her focus on the screen.
Suddenly, the vase lifted into the air, levitating as if held by invisible strings. It floated toward her, stopping right in front of her face, hovering mockingly. With a flick of her wrist, she swatted it aside, sending it crashing to the floor.
"There, fixed it for you."
Emris chuckled from the shadows. "Is this how you greet all your houseguests?"
"If they're as unwelcome as you, yes." Roya finally turned in her chair to face him. He stood near the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, as if he had all the time in the world. His silver hair gleamed in the dim light, his eyes a piercing, glacial blue that seemed to see right through her.
"Nice entrance," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What is it this time? More mind games? Rearranging my furniture like you have nothing better to do?"
Emris gave a playful smirk, strolling further into the room, his gaze sweeping over her meticulously organized bookshelves. "Oh, Roya. You wound me. You should appreciate the fact that I'm adding a little flair to this dreary place."
He reached out, running his fingers along the spine of a book, pulling it out halfway before shoving it back in at an awkward angle just to irritate her. "Honestly, it's like you've never heard of color. Beige, beige, beige. How inspiring."
Roya leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "What do you want?"
He cocked his head to the side, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Want? What makes you think I want something? Maybe I'm just here to enjoy your charming company."
"More like to annoy the hell out of me," she muttered, watching as he moved closer. His steps were slow, deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey.
"Maybe." He grinned, showing off perfect, too-white teeth. "But you seem to enjoy it. Otherwise, you wouldn't be so flustered every time I pop in."
Roya rolled her eyes, even as her pulse quickened. "I don't get flustered."
"Really? Then why are you gripping the armrest like you're about to strangle someone?"
Her fingers unclenched immediately, and she glared at him. "You're not as charming as you think, Emris."
"Oh, I know I'm charming." He was close now, standing over her, his presence overwhelming. She could feel the heat radiating off him, that same electric hum of power vibrating in the air between them. His voice dropped, low and smooth. "And so do you."
Roya refused to back down. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with a cold stare. "You're an egomaniac who can't stand the idea of not being the center of attention."
He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing the edge of her desk as he leaned in closer. "Maybe. But you made me this way, didn't you?"
"I made you powerful," she retorted, her voice steady, though her heart was pounding in her chest. "That's all."
"And yet, you killed me off. The most powerful character in your entire story," he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What, Roya? Couldn't handle that I was stealing the spotlight from your precious hero?"
Roya smirked, her eyes glinting with something dark and playful. "You were too perfect. Too boring."
His eyes flared with anger, just for a moment, before he masked it with another cocky grin. "Boring? Oh, sweetheart, we both know that's not true. You didn't kill me because I was boring. You killed me because you couldn't control me."
His words struck a nerve, but Roya didn't let it show. Instead, she leaned forward, matching his energy. "Control you? I created you. You wouldn't even exist without me."
Emris's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. He leaned in, so close their noses almost touched, his breath warm against her skin. "And yet here I am. Very much alive. In your world, Roya. Doesn't that terrify you?"
Roya's lips twitched into a small, dangerous smile. "Not in the slightest."
They held each other's gaze, the air between them thick with tension, their hatred buzzing like electricity. For a moment, neither of them moved, both too stubborn to back down. The heat between them was undeniable, though neither would admit it.
Then, just as quickly, Emris pulled back, laughing lightly as if the moment had never happened. "Oh, Roya. You're so much fun to play with."
She arched an eyebrow. "Funny. I was just about to say the same thing."
Emris's grin faltered for just a second, sensing something in her tone. Before he could react, the floor beneath his feet shifted. Roya had quietly, without a word, pressed a button on her desk that triggered a trap she had installed earlier—a steel net dropped from the ceiling, encasing him in a cage of metal.
Emris blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then he laughed—loud and genuine. "Well, well, well. Look at you, planning ahead. I'm impressed."
Roya stood, walking toward him with slow, measured steps, her smile cold. "You're not the only one who can play games, Emris."
He tilted his head, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, Roya. I knew I liked you."
She crouched down, her face level with his through the bars. "This is just the beginning," she whispered. "If you want to torment me, you better be prepared to get a little taste of your own medicine."
Emris smirked, leaning closer, his face mere inches from hers. "I look forward to it."
The tension between them was palpable, the air crackling with a dangerous mix of hatred, power, and something else they both refused to acknowledge. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them, locked in this deadly, exhilarating game.
Opposites. But undeniably drawn to each other.
And neither of them planned to stop anytime soon.