Vexaria stood frozen, her heart hammering in her chest, as Xypheron closed the distance between them. The space between them was thick with tension, the kind that crackled and burned, an electric charge that neither of them could ignore.
"You're still here," he murmured, voice a low rasp.
Vexaria's mind raced, but her body was already betraying her, her feet planted as though her very soul was tethered to the man in front of her.
"I never left," she said, her voice tight with controlled anger.
He stopped just inches from her, his breath warm against her skin. "Then why are you so tense? So far from me?"
His words were a challenge, and Vexaria knew it. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he was affecting her. She met his gaze, fire burning in her own.
"I'm not afraid of you," she said, her words cold, defiant.
A flicker of something dark flashed in his eyes—something dangerous. And then, before she could blink, his lips were on hers.
It was a fierce, demanding kiss—no gentle testing of the waters, just the raw, brutal clash of mouths as if he'd been waiting for this moment longer than either of them realized. His hands cupped her face, fingers digging into her skin as he pulled her closer, and she couldn't help herself. She responded, her own hands sliding up his chest, gripping his shoulders, dragging him deeper into the kiss.
It wasn't just the kiss that consumed her—it was the power he wielded over her in that moment, the way his touch seemed to spark every nerve in her body. She hated it. And yet, she wanted more.
When he finally pulled away, his chest heaving, his lips barely brushing hers as he whispered, "Admit it. You want this."
Her heart raced, a fire igniting deep within her, but her pride kept her voice steady. "I want to kill you."
Xypheron chuckled darkly. "No, you don't. You want to own me. And you want me to own you."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she recoiled, taking a step back. But he followed her, his hand catching her wrist before she could pull too far away.
"Tell me I'm wrong," he said, his voice a low growl.
She glared at him, fury building in her chest. "You're wrong."
But even as she said it, her body betrayed her. Her pulse was erratic, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She wanted to tear away from him, wanted to fight him, but something held her there. Something that made her ache for him, even as she hated herself for it.
Xypheron studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he released her wrist.
"Maybe. Maybe not," he said, his voice dark with promise. "But we'll see, won't we?"
Vexaria's entire body hummed with tension, her skin prickling with the fire of his touch. But she held her ground, staring him down, refusing to let him see the cracks in her armor.
She wasn't sure which of them was more dangerous anymore—her, or the man who stood before her.
Either way, neither of them was ready to back down.
Not by a long shot.