Page 23 of Song of the Dragon Rider
Her chest heaved, rising and falling against mine. “Let go of me,” she said, her voice a mix of anger and desperation.
Instead of complying, I tightened my grip, my concern morphing into something more intense when I saw fear flicker in her eyes. “Not until you listen to me.”
The struggle shifted as she stopped pushing against me and instead pulled, unbalancing us both, and we tumbled onto the bed in a mess of limbs, a whirl of conflicting emotions and physical disarray. For a moment, we were both stunned, my body partially covering hers. Then her breath hitched and her eyes locked with mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them. Our close proximity, the scent of her hair, the feel of her body under mine—it all collided into a moment of raw tension.
Cat’s shock at our sudden closeness mirrored the tumult in my own mind. The room, lit by a single flickering candle, seemed to close in on us, intensifying every sound and movement.
“Damien, getoff!” Cat’s voice was sharp, but her struggle beneath me was half-hearted as if her energy was spent in the fervor of our argument.
I should have moved, given her space, but frustration and fear for her safety fueled a deeper desperation. “Listen to me,Cat! You can’t keep risking your life like this!” My voice was rough, almost a plea.
Her eyes, wide and fiery, met mine, and in that split-second of vulnerable confrontation, something shifted. My heart hammered against my chest, echoing strangely in my ears. Her eyes dropped to my lips and she licked her own. I felt her heart rate speed up and knew I wasn’t the only one caught up in the moment.
Swept up in a storm of emotions, a surge of something else—something deeper and more primal—washed over me as I looked down at her. Her blazing, defiant eyes challenged and pulled at me in equal measure. In a fleeting moment of raw vulnerability, our frustrations melded into a palpable tension that drew us inexplicably closer.
Before I fully comprehended the shift, my resistance crumbled and my body acted on its own accord, drawn by the gravity between us. I leaned down, my breath mingling with hers and my mind reeling with the implications of what was about to happen. And then, our lips met.
The kiss was a clash of everything unsaid, a furious melding of frustration and an inexplicable tenderness that belied the harshness of our previous words. It was as if all our pent-up emotions found their outlet in this one reckless act. Her lips were soft against mine, responding with a surprising fervor that matched my own. The kiss deepened, driven by a mixture of emotions neither of us could fully articulate nor understand.
But as quickly as the fire ignited, the reality of our situation poured cold clarity over us. I abruptly pulled back, the absence of her lips leaving a stark chill in its wake. Breathless, our chests heaved and we stared at each other wide-eyed in the darkness. The air was charged, heavy with the echoes of our kiss and the unsaid truths it unearthed.
“What are we doing?” I whispered, the words barely audible, filled with both wonder and regret. This wasn't supposed to happen, not with the complexities of our lives entwined in danger and duty.
Cat's eyes were large, her expression a mirror of my turmoil. For a moment, she was silent, her breath catching in her throat as if she was about to speak. But then she shook her head, a silent acknowledgment of the line we just crossed and the walls we hastily needed to rebuild.
And then… she slapped me. Hard. To say I was taken aback would be an understatement.
“Oh my God!” she gasped, her voice laced with confused anger.
I reared back, still straddling her, pinning her down not with my weight but with the force of my presence. The room was silent save for our heavy breathing. The soft flicker of the candle highlighted Cat’s flushed cheeks and the spark of defiance still alive in her eyes.
“You’re not leaving my sight until you realize the danger you’re in.” My voice was low and controlled, trying to rein in the tumult that raged inside me.
Cat’s response was a heated glare. “You think I’ll allow you to control me just because you’re worried? I’m not one of your whores from The Gilded Serpent, Damien!”
The intensity of her gaze challenged me and pushed me, but it also pulled at something deeper, something I was reluctant to acknowledge. I sighed, my posture softening. “I only want you to be safe. You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”
“And I suppose you’ll teach me?” she retorted, her voice dripping with skepticism. “By keeping me under your thumb?”
I paused, searching for the right words. “I’m trying to protect you,” I finally said, the truth of my feelings breaking through the frustration.
Cat laughed bitterly, her body relaxing slightly under mine, though her eyes never left my face. “How? By making me feel like a prisoner?”
I sighed again and the fight drained out of me as the reality of our situation settled in. Slowly, I rolled off her and sat beside her on the bed, dropping my head into my hands. “I don’t know how else to keep you safe,” I admitted, suddenly feeling weary.
Cat sat up, her anger subsiding into a complicated frown. “Maybe start by trusting me, not just trying to cage me,” she suggested, her voice softer. Softer than I ever expected. I mean, she did want to kill me.
I looked over at her, struck by her words. Trust—something so simple, yet so difficult to give when fear clouded every judgment. “Do you think you can trust me?” I asked softly, already knowing the answer.
She nibbled on her lower lip and shook her head no.
“Then what makes you think I can trust you?” I quirked a brow. It was a valid question. Trust went both ways.
She lowered her head and nodded. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I guess I should practice what I preach.”
“Are you saying you’re going to start trusting me?”
“Honestly, I don’t know if I can. I seriously want to kill you. But… I can try,” she whispered. “But it won’t be easy. And you need to reciprocate.”
