23 - Do you like him?

**Lysandra**

I trudged back to my room after training, my legs aching and my head spinning with everything that had happened. The memory of the strange power I’d unleashed lingered in the back of my mind, a mix of fear and curiosity swirling in my chest.

I didn’t know what it meant or where it had come from, but one thing made shivers crawl up my spine: it had scared Ravok.  

And if Ravok, the man who seemed immune to fear, had been shaken, then I had every right to be terrified.  

I pushed the door open, stepping into the sanctuary of my room. The heavy silence greeted me, and I embraced it. My gaze darted around, half-expecting to see Drakar lurking in the shadows like he always seemed to be. But the room was empty.  

Good.  

I didn’t want to deal with him right now. His presence was too much—too overwhelming, too confusing. One moment, he was distant and cold, barely acknowledging me. The next, he was staring at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. It was exhausting, and I was tired of trying to make sense of it.  

I grabbed a fresh towel and headed to the washroom, eager to wash away the grime and sweat of the day. The water was scalding hot, but I didn’t care. I stood under the spray, letting it cascade over me, my thoughts churning like the steam rising around me.  

Was a month and four days enough for my thoughts to be filled with one person? Why did I care so much about what he thought? Why did his moods affect me the way they did?

I hated it—hated the power he had over me, the way he made me feel like I was constantly teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t name.  

When I finally stepped out, my skin was flushed, and my hair clung to my neck in damp strands. I wrapped myself in a robe, rubbing my hair with the towel as I walked back into the room. The cool air prickled against my damp skin, but I welcomed it.  

And then I felt him. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I froze mid-step, my breath hitching in my throat.  

“Drakar?” I whispered; my voice barely audible over the sound of my racing heartbeat.  

I turned slowly, and there he was.  

He stood near the window, his tall and broad frame casting a long shadow across the room. His eyes—those impossibly golden eyes—were locked on me, swirling with emotions I couldn’t decipher. Anger, yes, but something else too.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, clutching the towel to my chest as if it could shield me from the intensity of his gaze.  

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a step closer, his movements deliberate and predatory. My pulse quickened, a strange mix of fear and anticipation coiling in my stomach.  

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said, my voice trembling despite my attempt to sound firm.  

“Do you like him?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like the rumble of distant thunder.  

“What?” I blinked, caught off guard by the question.  

“Ravok,” he said, his gaze narrowing. “Do you like him?”  

I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “Why would you—”  

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he growled, his frustration spilling over as he closed the distance between us in two swift strides.  

Before I could react, his hands were on my waist, pulling me closer until there was barely an inch of space between us. His touch was firm but not harsh, his fingers pressing into the fabric of my robe as though he was afraid I might slip away.  

“You blush when he’s near,” he said, his voice low and accusing. “You let him touch you. Do you like him, Lysandra? Do you want him?”  

My cheeks burned, not from guilt but from the sheer audacity of his words. “What are you talking about?” I snapped, my anger flaring. “Ravok is my trainer. That’s it.”  

“Is that it?” he shot back, his eyes blazing. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like more than that.”  

“You’re insane,” I said, trying to pull away from him, but his grip tightened, holding me in place.  

“Am I?” he challenged, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Or are you just too afraid to admit it?”  

“Admit what?” I shot back, my frustration bubbling over. “That I’m sick and tired of your games? That I don’t know what you want from me?”  

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might snap back. But instead, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin.  

“Do you like him?” he asked again, his voice softer this time but no less intense.  

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to keep my composure. “You know what?” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “Maybe I do. Maybe I like him because he doesn’t treat me like a toy you can pick up and put down whenever you feel like it. Because he doesn’t make me feel unwanted one moment and like I’m all he wants the next.”  

His jaw tightened, his grip on my waist faltering for the briefest of moments before he pulled me even closer.  

“You think I don’t want you?” he said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.  

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. The look in his eyes—the raw, unguarded intensity—left me breathless.  

“I see the way you look at me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I feel it every time you’re near. And you think I don’t want you?”  

My heart was pounding so loudly that I was sure he could hear it. I wanted to look away, to break the spell he seemed to have over me, but I couldn’t. His gaze held me captive, his words cutting through every defence I’d built around myself.  

“Then stop pushing me away,” I said, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “Stop making me feel like I’m not enough.”  

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, his eyes searching mine as though he was trying to find something he’d lost.  

“I’m not pushing you away,” he said finally, his voice softer now. “I’m trying to protect you.”  

“From what?” I asked. “All you’re doing is confusing me, Drakar.”  

His hands loosened their grip on my waist, but he didn’t let go. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice heavy. “I’m not good for you, Lysandra. I never was.”  

I shook my head, my emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “Then why are you here? Why do you keep coming back if you’re so bad for me?”  

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against mine as his eyes closed.  

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Then took a step backwards and gave me a once over before leaving… Again.