I twisted in his arms, my nails digging into his wrist as I fought to break free. But his grip only tightened. The harder I struggled, the closer he pulled me—until there was nothing left between us but breath and heat.
I couldn't—I wouldn't—let him trap me like this. I drove my knee up, aiming for his groin desperate to shatter the hold he had on me. But he moved with inhuman speed, blocking me before I had the chance.
"Stop fighting," he muttered, voice thick with frustration. "You're only making this harder on yourself."
The silence between us stretched, heavy with everything we weren't saying. His amber eyes locked on mine—intense, unreadable. His presence was suffocating, like standing at the edge of a storm I couldn't outrun.
"You're not getting away this time," he said, voice low and edged with something I couldn't name—
I forced a laugh, sharp and hollow. "You're really going to kill me, aren't you?"
His gaze flickered—just for a second—but I saw it. A crack in the mask. Not just cold detachment. Something that looked like… regret. Or maybe something worse. Something I didn't want to name.
"I don't want to kill you," he said softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Vulnerability edged his voice—raw, unguarded. And in that moment, something shifted between us. The space shrank. The air thickened.
He took a step closer, and my instincts screamed to back away—but I didn't. Couldn't. My feet felt rooted, anchored by something I didn't understand. My pulse quickened. My breath caught. I couldn't move.
"Then why?" The question escaped before I could swallow it. My voice came out a whisper. "Why chase me? Why do this if you don't want to kill me?"
His gaze darkened. Amber swirled with shadow—dangerous, magnetic. His voice, when it came, was low and deliberate, humming with tension.
"Because you're not like the others. You don't break. You don't give up."
He stepped in closer, his voice dipping into something darker, hungrier. "And I can't help but want you to."
The words struck like a blow, stealing the air from my lungs.
I opened my mouth to answer—to say this was wrong, twisted, insane—
But then he kissed me.
His lips crashed against mine, fierce and unrelenting. It was fire and fury, the kind of kiss that scorched reason to ash. Every inch of me screamed to pull away—but my body betrayed me. My hands curled into his shirt, dragging him closer, answering him with equal desperation.
His touch lit something wild inside me. Magic. Rage. Hunger. I didn't know where one ended and the other began.
This shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be letting it happen. I was nothing more than a pawn, a means to an end, and he—
He was a reaper. He was my end.
But I kissed him back, fierce and furious, as if I could steal something from him—my freedom, maybe. Maybe just a taste of it.
His hands slid to my waist, anchoring me in place. I felt the steady thrum of his heart beneath my palms, steady and strong in a body that shouldn't feel.
It was maddening. Dangerous.
I should've pulled away. I didn't.
I leaned in, deepening the kiss, the heat between us coiling into something volatile, something alive. I pressed against him like he was the only thing tethering me to the world, like if I let go, I'd unravel completely.