Selara's POV
"And why do I have to answer you?" I retorted, and I picked up my cutlery and continued to eat. The bastard knocked the knife and fork from my fingers and proceeded to push his butter knife closer to my neck. The cold steel kissed my skin.
After a moment of waiting for the cutlery to stop clattering noisily on the table, he demanded again. "Answer me, just why are you asking around about Darian?"
"Asking around," I scoffed, though I was bubbling with fury beneath. "I'd only just asked Mara about him. How does that equate to asking around?"
"It does." He said. He leaned back on his seat, hand still leaning forward to keep his knife on my throat. "Isn't it convenient that you just stumbled into our lives, saved him from his heart attack, and then became his mate. Isn't it likely that you are a spy?"
I stared hard at him, more out of curiosity than Ludicruosness. I wondered if he heard himself and heard the crazy comparison that he was making. I was abducted from my home and then reabducted by him and his goons, before all the rest happened. How was any of that a coincidence? Mara was probably right. He was a bigger nutcase than the rest of them. He was high up on the crazy and daft scale.
"Okay," I flashed him a smile. "You are right, I am a spy. So, can you please get away and let me fucking eat?" I said, tone sarcastic.
He grunted, his teeth crackling loudly like steel grating steel. "Don't play with me bitch. You and I know you are a spy. Confess while I am still nice."
I snatched up the cutlery, and I turned to my food. "I just did. Now you either lock me up or you get the hell away from me, make a choice and make it quick."
The crackling, noisy squeal of his jaw continued, eyes blazing fire. He didn't seem to like the direction the conversation had gone. And I didn't give a fuck that he did.
"Talk bitch" he pressed the knife against my skin.
I shook off the knife and fed a piece of steak to my lips, chewing gently at the meat, the spice in it exploding in my mouth. I made sure to look right into his eyes as I ate.
"You and I know you can't kill me, no matter how bad you want to. So just get the hell away, before I call your boss on you."
His lips moved, like he wanted to argue. I adjusted my seat, and I turned in the direction of the stairs. "Da—"
Just like I suspected, he stood up, and he turned in the direction of the exit. He threw the knife onto the table, grunting over his large shoulders. "This is far from over bitch." He said, and I watched his furious frame disappear up the stairs. I resumed my meal.
Now, I understand what he really thinks of me, and I made a mental note to be careful around him. And that was one of the damn reasons why I wouldn't stay long here. I don't have to deal with all the craziness flying all around here. I was cutting off the mate bond as soon as I could, and no one was stopping me.
I ate quietly, and with all the silence all around me, that was quite easy to do. Then I retired to my room. Not long after I walked into the room and lay on the bed, the door opened again, and he strolled in.
He wore a dark frown on his face, the silent rage burning in his eyes, marred his handsomeness.
For a moment, I watched my eyes stray from his tight face to his shoulders, tracing the broadness, and then to the peek of smooth tanned skin beneath his unbuttoned shirt. His arms were big and strong, and from the little I could see of his chest, his abs were taut and lean, his packs a couple of showy squares stacked upon each other.
Why am I even thinking about all that? I snatched my eyes away from his body.
I adjusted to a sitting position on the bed. "I hope you aren't here to talk me out of breaking the bond," I asked, though it was boldly written on his face that that was the reason he was here.
He grunted softly, but tenaciously, highlighting the harsh lines of his V-shaped jaw. "I am not here to talk you out of anything, but to confirm to you that you or anyone won't be breaking our bond." He dropped onto the nearest sofa, his hand on his lap, rather than on the armrest like most men.
Something told me he was hiding his hands, but I couldn't be sure. I couldn't even care. The fury bobbing wild in my veins swallowed every other concern. "You don't get to decide that," I challenged.
"Neither do you," he responded.
"Technically, I do. I have the right to refuse to be your mate, as you also have the right to refuse."
"And who made that rule?" he hissed.
"No one. It's just logic. We should both get the opportunity to opt out of an arrangement neither of us likes."
His lips parted with another hard grunt, and instead of the counter I expected from him to fight that logic, all I got was another grunt. He threw his back into the seat.
I get that he must have been searching for his mate for years. But I just couldn't wrap my head around why he would even want us to be together. We were miles apart in personalities, and our aims couldn't be any different.
He was silent for a while, staring at me, jaw hard. For a splinter of seconds, I found his eyes settling on my bust, then trailing down to the exposed areas of my legs.
Another time, another person, and I would be super conscious of my body and yanked them away from his gaze, but for a stupid reason that I just couldn't fathom, I didn't do that now.
Instead, I watched the tightness in his eyes as they lingered on my body, watched the tension in his shoulders, the tautness of his jaw. He seemed to be fighting some battle inside of him, a very serious battle, considering the soft, angry grunts whispering off of him.
Our eyes finally connected, and instantly, he pried his gaze away. Then the silence resumed between us and stretched on for longer now.
I was beginning to go weary of it when his lips finally broke loose. "Why do we have to break the bond?"
"Because we can't love each other."
He scoffed, jaw tightening still. "We don't have to love each other. That nonsense is overrated anyway. We just have to be what we are supposed to be—mates."
I wanted to comment on his take on love, but I kept that philosophy to myself; after all, my previous attempt at it had gotten me betrayed, squeezed dry of my properties, and sold as a fucking slave. "No relationship can work without love."
"Now that's a lie," he said, and he rose to his feet. "Relationships also work on other things too."
"Like what?" I asked, tilting my neck up at him, brow raised high in question.
"Like desire." He muttered with a wry grin.
"That—" the rest of the words froze on my throat when I realized why he'd stood up.
"No. Stop, Darian," I yelled, screeching with terror, eyes stretching wide on my head, it felt like they might tear.
I jumped from the bed and away from him, but he was very fast. With a blur of speed, he'd crossed to me, snatching me by the waist from the bed. A mild pain seized the nerve ending in my back as my back met the wall.
I shut my eyes tight as I expected again, that brutal sting that should come from his touch.