Chapter 18 Eighteen

Chapter 18 Eighteen
Rebelle’s POV

I let my mind roam with questions about the masquerade ball.

Three nights.

That was all the time we had before walking into whatever trap was waiting for us at the ball.

But somehow I wasn't only thinking about the danger…I was thinking about them.

I exhaled slowly as I stepped into the training grounds, the cool evening air brushing against my skin, grounding me just enough to stop my thoughts from roaming. The place was mostly empty, the usual noise of clashing bodies and sharp commands gone.

But of course, he was there.

Ezekiel.

He stood near the far end of the sparring mat with his back to me, his shirt clinging slightly to his skin from sweat, showing off his defined muscles as he wrapped his hands slowly. And from a distance, there was just something about him that felt Dangerous in a way that didn’t need to hide behind charms or games.

He didn’t turn when I approached, didn’t even hesitate, yet he still spoke like he had been aware of me the entire time.

“You’re avoiding your room.”

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see it, folding my arms as I stepped closer.

“And you’re avoiding sleep.”

That made him pause, just for a second, before he finally turned. Just like that, the air shifted, the space between us tense as his gaze dropped briefly to my outfit, a simple tank top and shorts, before returning to my face, and there it was again, that intensity that always made everything feel heavier than it should.

“You shouldn’t be wandering alone,” he said.

“Funny,” I replied, tilting my head slightly as I closed the distance between us, “I thought we already had this conversation.”

“We did,” he said calmly, “and you still don’t listen.”

“Or maybe,” I countered, stepping even closer until the space between us became almost nonexistent, “I just don’t like being told what to do.”

His jaw tightened, a tiny shift, but I caught it, and for a moment neither of us moved, neither of us willing to be the first to step back.

Then he slowly moved forward, until there was barely any space left between us, his presence overwhelming in a way that made it hard to think straight.

“You think this is about control,” he said quietly, his eyes occasionally dropping to my lips, then back up to my eye.

“It is,” I replied, my heart beating slightly faster.

“No,” he said, his gaze darkening just slightly, “it’s about keeping you alive.”

My breath hitched, just for a second, but I pushed past it, refusing to let him see that effect.

“You’re not responsible for me.” I blurt out.

“I know,” he said, and yet he didn’t step back, didn’t create distance; if anything, it felt like he was standing even closer now, like he was holding himself there.

“Then stop acting like it,” I added, softer this time, the edge in my voice dulling without my permission.

Suddenly, I felt his fingers brushing against my wrist just enough to stop me from shifting away, the contact light, but it burned all the same, sending something like a spark through me that I wasn’t ready to deal with.

“Rebelle,” he said, my name low, and dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with threats.

“What?” I asked, lifting my gaze to meet his despite the way my heart had started beating just a little too fast.

“You don’t understand what you’re walking into.”

“And you do?” I challenged.

“Yes.”

The certainty in his voice made something in me hesitate, but I pushed it down, shaking it off like it didn’t matter.

“And that’s exactly why I’m going,” I said finally.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does to me,” I replied, pulling my hand free, not harshly, just enough to remind him and myself that I could.

“I’ve spent my whole life being used, thrown into situations I didn’t understand, controlled by people who thought they knew better. I’m not doing that again, not blindly.” I poured.

Something shifted in his expression; it was soft, something I wasn’t used to seeing on him, and it caught me off guard.

“You won’t be blind,” he said quietly.

“Then stop trying to shut me out.”

Silence stretched between us, filled with things both of us weren’t saying, then he reached for me again, but this time it wasn’t to stop me.

His fingers brush against my cheek with surprising care, and the softness of it made my breath catch before I could stop it.

“You’re reckless,” he murmured.

“And you’re stubborn,” I shot back, though my voice had softened without permission.

His lips twitched, just slightly, the closest thing to a smile I’d seen from him

Suddenly, his hand shifted, cupping my face fully, and everything in me stilled.

“Ezekiel…” I started, but the word barely left my lips before his gaze dropped to my lips, and that was all it took.

His lips crashed into my hard like he had been holding back for too long, and for a second, I froze, caught off guard by the intensity of it.

Then I kissed him back. Because, of course, why not, and somehow I didn’t think I was capable of pulling away.

My fingers curled into his shirt, gripping the fabric as I pulled him closer, closing whatever distance he had left between us, and for a moment, everything else disappeared, the tension, the questions, all of it fading away.

Then, suddenly, he pulled back abruptly, as he had just realized what he was doing.

His breathing was heavier now, uneven in a way that didn’t match his usual control, his forehead resting briefly against mine as if he needed that second to ground himself again.

“This is a bad idea,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” I agreed quietly.

But neither of us moved.

Not immediately.

Then he slowly stepped back, creating a distance, and just like that, the moment broke, leaving something unresolved hanging between us.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice returning to that controlled, distant tone like nothing had happened.

I stared at him for a second longer than I should have before turning away.

“Goodnight, Ezekiel.”

But he didn’t respond.

I felt his eyes on me as I walked away, and somehow that felt more confusing than the kiss itself.

And for some reason, I just didn’t want to go back to the quiet of my room. So instead, I decided to head to the library.

As I settled in to check a few books, a familiar voice rang from behind me.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Asa.

He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms lightly.

“Something like that.”

He stepped into the light slowly, sleeves rolled up, a book resting loosely in his hand.

“You look distracted,” he observed.

“Very observant,” I muttered with a slight smile.

“I try,” he said lightly, setting the book down while his gaze stayed fixed on me, analyzing, “care to share what’s occupying your mind?”

I hesitated for a second before shrugging.

“Your brother.”

That got his full attention instantly, something flickering in his expression that he didn’t bother to hide.

“Ah,” he murmured, stepping closer, “that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why do you look like you’re at war with yourself?”

I let out a sigh, “Something like that.”

He stopped just in front of me, close enough, but unlike Ezekiel, he didn’t rush, didn’t close the distance fully; instead, he waited, watching me, and giving me time to step away, but I didn’t.

“Did he kiss you?” He asked suddenly.

My eyes snapped to his.

“What…”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said softly, amusement filled in his voice.

“You’re unbelievable.”I scoffed.

“And yet,” he murmured, reaching out slowly, his fingers brushing a strand of my hair back behind my ear, lingering just a second longer than necessary, “you’re still here.”

His hand didn’t drop. Instead, it shifted, sliding lightly from my hair to my jaw, tilting my face upward, and this time, I knew exactly what he was about to do.

“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.

I didn’t.

And that was all he needed.

He slowly drops his lips onto mine. It was delicious and sensual, like he was exploring every part of my mouth, catching every breath, and responding to every small bite.

My breath hitched as my hand lifted without thinking, and I placed it against his chest as he pulled me just a little closer, not forcefully, just enough to close the space.

“Dangerous,” he murmured against my lips.

“You,” I replied softly.

“Us,” he corrected.

That word lingered.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against mine, his expression unreadable, but his eyes sharp and aware.

“You should be careful, Rebelle,” he said.

“That sounds familiar.”

“It should,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek, “and yet I don’t think you will be.”

I stepped back then, creating a little distance even if I didn’t want it.

“This is complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“It already is.”

Silence stretched between us before his lips curved into that same dangerous, knowing smile.

“Three nights,” he said.

“What about it?”

“That’s how long you have before everything changes.”

A chill ran down my spine at this.

“What do you mean?”

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped back, picking up his book, stating the moment had already ended.

“Get some sleep, Rebelle.”

I turned toward the door, my mind racing with too many thoughts, too many feelings I didn’t have time to understand, and just before I stepped out, he spoke.

“Wear something unforgettable,” he added.

I paused.

“Why?”

His voice followed me into the hallway,

“Because everyone will be watching you,” he finishes with a grin. M