Her guard, her temptation

9

kaira astor

Rough fingertips press into my wrists, burning my skin, fingerprints sure to be littered over my flesh tomorrow. My gaze flows over his ring-clad fingers tightly wrapped around my arm. Lethal, dangerous, threatening. My eyes slide to his, a breath hitching in my throat as the darkness creeps over the green in his hues. "Don't ever," He seethes, each word lathered with venom, directly aimed at me. "Do that again, yeah?" Slanting his head to the side, his eyes narrow into slits, piercing through mine with an intensity that wraps around my mind so forcefully that I grit my teeth, urging my voice to crack through the boulder in my throat.

The power pouring and roaming around Zyran is one I've never felt before. Not from any witch, Alpha, or King. My fingernails press into the tender skin of my palm, the sting jolting through my arm and I yank at the hold Zyran has on my wrist. I've been weak for too long. I've obeyed too often, I've been silenced too many times. "You better let me f*****g go, before I follow through with my threat right now." I realize that it's only the anger coiled up in my chest that pushes me to speak like this. The hatred wrapped around my heart is throwing me toward being this reckless. Reckless enough to threaten the man with hollow eyes, an enraged aura and fighting skills that could end my life in mere seconds.

Zyran's eyes flint between mine, his eyes darkening. "Show me then." There are those words again. Spikes of adrenaline and fear pierce through my body and I shift, aiming my free hand toward his face, with such unkempt rage, a rumbling sound explodes from my throat. Zyran shifts and yanks me by my wrist, leaning into a crouch and uses the momentum of my body to roll and fling me over his shoulder. I scream as the ground rushes to my face, my hands shooting out to break my fall. The loud thud of my body pummeling into the dirt rings in my ears.

He just thre-- "I advise you to stay down." His voice hovers above me and I can feel him towering over my body. My fingers flex in the dirt, my lungs pleading for the oxygen that left me in a rush. Squeezing my eyes shut, I roll over onto my back, my palms and knees throbbing with pain. I gasp in a breath of air, the sound guttural. As soon as the air invades the space of my lungs, Zyran crouches down, hovering over me, his hand striking down, rough, callous finger wrapping around my throat in a threatening hold, only trapping the oxygen in my lungs. "Your temper is amusing, I must admit," He stares at me down his nose, the sight all the more sinister. "But, try to strike me again off the mat, I will not find it so very amusing."

His embers glow with a threat-- a promise. I grit my teeth together, slapping his hand, and he lets go, placing his elbows on his knees. "I f*****g hate you." I croak out, swallowing hard, my eyes brimming with unshed tears as I lock eyes with him. It's unbearable, this feeling of wanting to break his jaw and, at the same time, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. The anger towards my mother has been replaced by the hatred in my chest for Zyran. "Yeah?" His mouth parts slightly, his jaw strenuously tightening as his tongue runs a smooth trail along the bottom of his inner lip. The moment stretches between us.

I narrow my eyes. Zyran's eyes flare. Swiftly, he leans forward and wraps his arms around me, standing to his full height and flings me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing. Not again. "I swear to God, if you tie me to my f*****g bed again, I will punch you so hard you'll have a permanent indent of my fist." I slam my hand down against his back, the muscles under his shirt tensing and my cheeks heat with the feel of it under my fingertips. Zyran remains silent, striding through the castle, with no struggle, only pure confidence and determination. I hit and smack and scream, hoping my parents would hear me, hoping Amara hears me. By the time we reach a door, I know no one is coming to save me.

He pushes the door open and steps inside, kicking it close with his foot and marches forward. From the leather mats underneath me, I realize we're in the gym. "You can't just do whatever you want!" I hiss, trashing against the hold he has on me. Swiftly and unnaturally fast, he maneuvers me over his shoulder and places me firmly on the ground, my head spinning for a beat. I blink rapidly, my gaze flying around the room. "I'm the princess! You can't just treat me like this." I spit out, my hands balling into fists by my side. Zyran tilts his head to the side, observing me as he always does, his eyes roving over me in one fleeting sweep.

My posture straightens, my spine snapping rigid. "Of course, I can. Whose going to stop me?" His jaw flexes and with precise movements, still keeping his eyes latched on mine, he unsheathes the blades at his chest, with utter ease and so much confidence that my fingertips tremble. I'm painfully aware of the fact that he can end my life in various ways right now, without so much as blinking an eye. I've seen the annoying prick fight, I'm so good as dead if he gets his hands on me. "What are you doing?" The sharpest edge of my anger dulls, replaced by an unwavering sense of fear.

Zyran throws the blades off to the side, the metal clanging against the ground and I wince at the sound. My chest rises and falls in rapid beats as he turns back to me. "Allowing you to follow through with your threat," His glaring gaze strokes over me like he's memorizing every detail or looking for any weakness. "Well, to try." Green eyes clash with mine and peer through me. I've been on this mat more times than I've been in my own room, training with Dax. I've been thrown around, punched and nearly broke an arm on this mat. I've sweated, bled and cried on this mat, multiple times.

I've felt anger, fear and defeat on this mat, but standing in the middle of the worn leather, facing Zyran and his cruel gaze right now, is a feeling I've never felt before. The fear coursing through me is something I've never felt before. The knowledge that I just might cease to exist on this mat is something I've never felt before. Nausea has me clenching my core, and I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, my hand falling down to the hem of the shirt I'm wearing, pinching the material between my fingers. "You look like you're about to cry, and we haven't even started yet." Zyran's words trigger the anger in the pit of my stomach.

"You have nothing to be afraid of," Weaved with malice and pure amusement, he slants his head. "You claimed to know how to fight, no?" I can fight, I just can't fight him. I lock every muscle in my body to stop from trembling. Lifting his veiny, ring-clad hand, he crooks his forefinger, motioning for me to attack. I don't. His jaw flexes twice, the muscles in his jaw taunt, and I gulp, a spike of adrenaline flooring through me. I don't want him close to me. "Figured you were a stubborn princess, but never took you for a cowardly one."

He moves so quickly that I barely have time to process his words or attempt to lift my hands before he sweeps my feet out from underneath me. Motherfucke-- Zyran topples with me, his hands slamming down on either side of me to catch his weight. My lungs might've not emptied out from the fall, but I'm breathless all the same. His face hovers over mine, so close that I inhale his exhale, breathing in the mint on his tongue. He's all-consuming, the pressure of his hips digging into mine causes my eyelashes to flutter.

I just might pass out. "With a tongue like yours, I would've thought you'd put up a fight," His uttered words fall over me, a lump forming in my throat. "Now I understand why you need guards, you're so f*****g weak." Harsh and so brutal that my chest rattles with tainted rage. Weak? His eyes flick between mine, emotions swirling in forest green hues. I lean up, my lips brushing against his, a short breath hitching in my throat as his pupils dilate, swallowing the green, but the anger snuffs out the emotions. "I'll make you swallow your f*****g words, Sergeant Ryder."

Without hesitating, I push his shoulders, his eyes flashing, and I nearly smirk, using the movement as a distraction, lifting my knee straight up between his legs. His face contorts in pain, his eyebrows dipping low and a groan rumbles from his chest. Low satisfaction courses through me, and I take advantage of the situation, wrapping my legs around his hips and with all my might-- fueled by unkempt rage-- roll him onto his back, straddling him. Before he gathers himself, I raise my fist and strike down, only to wince when his large palm and long fingers wrap around my wrist. "Playing dirty?" His voice is rough, the edge lethal, a shiver rolling down my spine. f**k.