AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Seriously?
"You assume I have a heart, wildcat."
But the amusement faded from his eyes as soon as it had entered. He stayed still under her, watching her, the silence between them tensing, the tension between them thickening. Awareness slithered down her spine, seeping into her bones. She could feel his heartbeat against her thigh where she straddled him, her shorts having ridden up in the struggle, exposing more of her skin than she was comfortable with. Her nipples hardened under the cotton, because of the struggle and not because of his warm muscles under her or his intense eyes piercing hers. Not because of that.
Now that she had him under her, she didn't know what to do. She couldn't sit on him for eternity, even though it was tempting. She couldn't kill him in her own house, even though that was more than tempting. She couldn't do anything. And the bastard that he was, he knew it. Hence, the relaxed posture.
Disgusted with herself, Morana stood up, removing the knife from his neck, and walked towards the window, frustration flooding her, replacing the heat now that she looked away from him. This was getting them nowhere. She closed her eyes once, before opening them, the decision made, and turned to face him, where he stood just a few feet away, watching her with that damned focused look of his.
"So, you basically want me to work with you to find the codes and destroy them, and keep it to myself?" she asked, keeping her voice even.
"Yes," he answered simply.
Morana nodded. "And how will we go about it?"
"However we have to," he replied, in that simple tone that brooked no arguments. "Wherever the leads take us."
Morana nodded again, taking a deep breath, her eyes watching him closely. "I have one condition."
The clock ticked. The lights flickered. They breathed.
He stayed silent, waiting her out. She hesitated, for some reason, before swallowing, speaking.
"I work with Dante, not you."
Silence.
His eyes flared with something before he tamped it down, the air between them crackling with tension, his gaze almost electric in its intensity. Morana's heart pounded, her stomach clenching, the awareness of herself, of everything around her, sizzling through her.
He started walking towards her with slow, measured steps of the predator he was called, his blue eyes blazing with a fire she couldn't place, his face hard, jaw clenched, muscles tense. Morana stood her ground in her bare feet, bringing the knife up to his throat just as he stepped into her personal space, the metal pressing into his neck, his other hand coming beside her head on the windowsill. He looked down at her, his throat working, his breaths warm against her face, that musky scent of his cologne faded and mixed with sweat, wrapping around her, making her skin tingle and her heart thunder as their eyes stayed locked.
Suddenly, he brought his free hand up, between the knife and his throat, and Morana's eyes widened, stunned, as she watched him push it away from his skin, the sharp blade cutting into his hand, blood suddenly trailing down his wrist to hers, the warm liquid traveling over her elbow. The entire time he never looked away, even as she gasped, even as she tried to pull the knife away, even as she gulped. He held the knife in his fist, his inflamed eyes on hers, his blood dripping on her skin, their faces inches away, eyes unwavering, blue on hazel.
Something was happening in that moment. Something her brain couldn’t understand but her body was intuitively aware of. The rushing of blood in her ears didn't lessen. The pounding of her heart didn't decrease. The heaving of her chest didn't diminish. Her knees weakened, her stomach in knots, her disbelief coursing through her body, transforming into something else, something that had never occupied her body before.
He looked down at her like a force of nature, and she stared back, unable to look away, captured by his gaze - his hard, unrelenting gaze.
And suddenly, he let go of the knife.
"Done."
His hard, guttural tone reached her, and he sidestepped her without sparing her another glance, jumping out the window before she could take another breath.
Morana didn't look out to see if he'd made it out, didn't lean down to watch him merge with the shadows, didn't move from the spot at all.
She didn't breathe.
Her heart thundered away in her chest like an unleashed storm cloud, her breaths rapid as though she'd run a marathon. She was trembling. All over. Her hands shook, the knife falling once again to the floor, coated in blood.
Morana looked down at the fallen knife, feeling as though a sword had pierced her chest, the tightness in her throat inexplicable, logic nowhere in the vicinity of her scrambled thoughts as she just stood there, frozen, unable to move, unable to even breathe.
Her eyes moved from the knife to her trembling hands, seeing a lone red trail on the right one, starting at her wrist and ending on her forearm, almost as though her skin had cried and swallowed a bloody tear.
The blood of her enemy. The blood of the one man she hated.
His blood.
The sight of it should have filled her with satisfaction. That he had agreed to her terms should have filled her with satisfaction. That he had left without a fuss and not turned this night into a disaster should have filled her with satisfaction.
