Suddenly, the pressure shifted. Lucian felt his body grow lighter, his limbs moving without his consent. It was an eerie, disorienting sensation—as though he were a marionette dancing on invisible strings. His eyes snapped open, panic flashing through him as realization struck.
"Lyra," he growled, his voice strained with a mix of anger and alarm. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Relax," Lyra purred, her tone as smooth as silk and dripping with mischief. "It's part of the training."
His body betrayed him, rising to its feet as though pulled by unseen hands. His arms extended, fingers brushing against the curve of Lyra's waist. The warmth of her body against his palms sent an involuntary shiver racing down his spine. His instincts screamed at him to fight back, but his mind felt trapped, tethered by her will.
"Lyra," he said again, this time through gritted teeth, his voice laced with frustration and embarrassment. "Stop this. Now."
"Why should I?" she replied with a smirk, tilting her head playfully as her violet eyes sparkled with amusement. "You're doing so well."
Lucian's hands moved higher, gliding up her sides to rest on her shoulders. The heat of her body seeped through the fabric, and despite his anger, a small part of him couldn't ignore the intoxicating sensation. It was maddening—this loss of control, paired with the betrayal of his own senses.
Damn it, he thought, his mind a whirlwind of conflicted emotions. It feels good, but this isn't me. This isn't my choice.
"You think this is funny?" he snapped, his voice rising in defiance.
"Oh, I think it's hilarious," Lyra replied, her grin widening as she leaned closer. "But maybe… just maybe, you're enjoying this too."
Something inside Lucian ignited—a primal surge of defiance that burned hotter with every passing second. The humiliation, the vulnerability, and the faint flicker of satisfaction from her touch merged into a single, powerful thought: No more.
With a guttural growl, he pushed back—not with his mind, but with raw determination, a force born from his very core. His fingers tightened on her waist, and for the first time, it wasn't her control guiding him. It was his.
Lyra's smirk faltered, her violet eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Oh?" she murmured, her voice softer now. "Bold move, Lucian."
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, his voice low and commanding. "You want to see willpower? Let's see how you handle it."
Lucian's hands moved with purpose now, sliding to her back and pulling her closer. Her teasing confidence wavered as his lips grazed the curve of her collarbone, sending a visible shiver through her frame. The power dynamic began to shift, his growing assertiveness filling the room with a palpable tension.
"You're enjoying this," Lucian said, his tone steady, laced with both anger and satisfaction.
Lyra let out a breathless laugh, her usual composure slipping. "Maybe I am," she admitted, her voice tinged with something softer—something real.
His lips trailed upward, brushing along her neck, his movements deliberate and unyielding. Her violet eyes fluttered closed for a moment, her breathing quickening as her teasing dominance melted under the weight of his newfound control.
When his lips found hers, the kiss was electric—a clash of wills, passion, and defiance. The room seemed to pulse with energy, the tension between them building into a storm. Lyra responded instinctively, her hands sliding up to his shoulders as her playful banter dissolved into quiet gasps.
For a fleeting moment, the lines blurred. The manipulator had become the manipulated, her carefully crafted façade crumbling as she yielded to his intensity. The kiss deepened, their movements growing more urgent, more frantic. The air was thick with heat and power, the balance between them shifting with every second.
Finally, Lyra broke the kiss, stepping back slightly as she caught her breath. Her chest rose and fell with each inhale, her usually flawless appearance now disheveled. Stray strands of hair framed her flushed face, her dress wrinkled and askew. She studied him, her grin returning—but it lacked the smugness it had carried before.
"Well," she said, her voice hoarse but steady, "that was… unexpected."
Lucian glared at her, his breathing still uneven, his fists clenched at his sides. "You call that training?"
Lyra straightened her dress, smoothing out the fabric with an air of feigned nonchalance. "Of course. And you showed impressive willpower—eventually." Her smirk returned, sharper now, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of lingering heat.
He ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling sharply. "You're insane."
"And you're fun," Lyra shot back, already turning toward the door. "But I think that's enough for today."
She paused in the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. "Next is physical training with Amelia. Oh, and Lucian?"
"What?" he growled, narrowing his eyes at her.
Lyra's smirk deepened, her voice practically dripping with amusement. "I'll be sure to tell her what you did."
Lucian's eyes widened, a surge of panic flashing through him. "You wouldn't."
"Try me," she said with a wink, her laughter echoing down the hallway as she disappeared.
Lucian slumped back onto the floor, running both hands through his hair as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. The lingering sensations of her control, the heat of her touch, and his own actions swirled chaotically in his mind.
She's trouble, he thought, his jaw tightening. But maybe trouble is exactly what I need to grow stronger.
He exhaled slowly, the tension in his body easing slightly. One thing was certain: Voidwalker's training sessions would be anything but ordinary.