Chapter 27

Chapter 27
Rhea.

The lobby was too quiet, and I hated it. I sat still in one of the sleek leather chairs, my legs tucked under me, with my hands folded too neatly in my lap. Stillness wasn’t like me. It itched under my skin, burned in my chest, but I forced it anyway. Because the moment I started pacing, I knew the eyes would notice.

And there were eyes, I just didn't want them anywhere near me. 

The employees drifted past me every few minutes, silent, and efficient, their faces carved in stone. Not one of them spared me more than a glance, and it m was wrong. People always looked, at least once. It was either out of curiosity, disdain, amusement, something. But here, it was as if I didn’t exist.

They weren’t normal. My gut screamed it. My head whispered vampires, even though I couldn’t prove it, couldn’t test it. As fun as it sounded in my head, I couldn't pull out a blade just so I could stuff it deep into their hearts. Not without throwing myself into something I wasn’t sure I could crawl out of anyway. 

I tried to distract myself with a magazine from the low glass table in front of me, but the words blurred together, making it unreadable. After three pages, and a throbbing headache, I snapped it shut and set it down harder than necessary.

Enough sitting still. I'd had enough of all of this. 

I stood and walked toward the elevator. The same one Alaric had taken when he vanished downstairs with that woman. I hadn’t forgotten. My blood hadn’t cooled from it, and honestly, I wasn't sure it actually could. 

But just before I reached the silver doors, he was there.

A man, a six foot tall one, that I just knew was going to be a problem. 

I froze because I could swear he hadn’t walked up to me, or skidded over even. One second the space was empty, the next he filled it, tall, broad, with a stare that made my skin prickle.

“You can’t pass,” he said flatly. His voice carried the weight of command, as if he was used to people obeying. “Alaric hasn’t given you permission.”

“Of course.” My jaw tightened as I scoffed. “I don’t need his permission.”

I went to step around him, but the moment I brushed his arm, it was like shoving against stone. I pushed harder, and harder, but nothing. His strength wasn’t natural, and it sent shivers down my spine. 

“Move.” I glared up at him. “Now.”

He didn’t, and for a moment, we stood locked there, my hands flat against his unmoving chest, his gaze blank as if I were no more than a child throwing a tantrum.

Frustration surged hot and sharp in me, but instead of channeling it straight at him, I decided to put it to good use. 

“Fine,” I snapped, jerking back. I spat at his feet, but if that happened to bother him, he didn't show it. “Then watch.”

I spun away and grabbed the nearest thing I could reach, the polished vase on the end table. It hit the ground with a satisfying crash, shattering into a spray of glass. The sound rang out like a gunshot in the too, quiet lobby.

The guard didn’t flinch.

Good. I would show him. 

I grabbed another, this time a picture frame, and sent it flying against the wall. It cracked down the middle. My heart thundered, not from fear but from the savage relief of doing something reckless, something loud.

And then….

“Enough.” The word slashed through the space, low and dangerous.

I stilled as Alaric stepped out from the elevator, his presence filling the room like smoke before fire. His eyes locked on me, and though his face was calm, it was the kind of calm that vibrated with barely leashed violence.

“Look who's here.” My lips curled into a smirk I didn’t feel. “Took you long enough.”

“What is this?” His gaze flicked over the broken glass, then back to me. He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t need to. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “Reminding you that I’m not a prisoner.”

“You are,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. “And you’re proving exactly why.”

“No.” The heat in my chest burned hotter. “What I’m proving is that you’re afraid.”

“Afraid?”His head tilted. “Afraid of what?” 

“Of me, of this bond, of what I might become.” I let out. “You hide me away, surround me with your kind, throw me scraps of answers like I should be grateful, because the truth is, you don’t know what to do with me. Do you?”

His steps were slow, deliberate, until the space between us vanished. His shadow cut across me, swallowing me whole, and without warning, he leaned down, close enough that the edge of his breath touched my cheek.

“You think this is a game, little hunter?” His voice dropped, like velvet wrapped in steel. “You think pushing me will give you control?”

“Maybe.” My pulse spiked, but I forced the tremor out of my voice. “Maybe it already has.”

Something in his expression cracked, just a flicker. Then his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my arm. Not gentle, not cruel, but firm enough that I felt the strength coiled in him, the kind of strength that could snap me in half if he wanted.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, voice rougher now, and edged with something primal, “what you’re playing with.”

The air between us pulsed, thick, suffocating. My body reacted before my mind caught up, leaning into his hold even as my jaw set stubbornly.

“Then show me,” I whispered.

His grip tightened, the muscles in his jaw flexing as if he was holding something back. His fangs flashed for half a heartbeat before he forced them away, before he tore his hand from me like I burned.

The loss of his touch was almost worse than the grip itself, but I masked it. Alaric’s eyes blazed down at me, dark, furious and something else I couldn’t name, but I pushed it aside without dwelling too much on it. 

“Keep testing me, Rhea.” ‘His voice was harsh when he finally spoke. “And you’ll find out exactly how much I’ll let you break, before I break you.”

What? What the hell was that supposed to mean?