Chapter 48 Wild and possessive
Ira’s POV
“Drop it. Now!” Ruel orders, those cold eyes latched in me, filled with what almost resembles hatred.
The file falls from my hands and hits the floor with a dull sound that somehow feels loud in the quiet room.
Just great. This is exactly what I'd tried avoiding by staying seated doing nothing for nearly two hours.
I step carefully over the file, hoping to just move away from it and pretend the moment didn’t happen, but of course, he doesn't let it go.
“And who's supposed to pick that up?” his voice drops lower, sounding a bit terrifying.
My mouth opens and before I can stop it, I'm giving a response that just might be the last I get to utter today before getting punched in the face.
“…But you told me to drop it.”
His jaw flexes, like he’s annoyed at the logic even though it came straight from him. “I said ‘hands off,’ not ‘throw my documents around.’ Pick it up.”
I swallow and force myself to stand straighter. “Always yelling like someone keeps spitting in your tea,” I mutter under my breath.
His brow rises slightly. “What?”
I cringe, stepping back and away from him. I shouldn’t have said anything. But there's just this urge to infuriate him like he does me.
Still, I'm not stupid so I keep my mouth shut.
“Why are you in here?” he asks, sounding more upset as he steps closer. “I didn’t send for you.”
With less space between us, his scent reaches me, wrapping me in heat and something else… a scent so unique I can only attribute it to him.
For some reason it feels so natural, like something I could smell all day and not get tired of.
I point to the stainless tray sitting on the table. “Your food. I brought it in a while ago,” I say annoyed. “And I was told not to leave till you came, which honestly makes no sense. There are guards outside your door. Certainly they would know if someone else walked in.”
He doesn’t even glance at the tray at first. His eyes stay trained on me with that cold, measuring stare that makes me feel small.
“So that's your excuse for getting your filthy hands on my documents? You think it makes sense that because you were granted access to my room for a period of time you can begin to touch things that don't belong to you. You indeed are dumb.” He says with a look that awakens the rage within me.
“I wasn’t,” I say quickly. “I mean, I only… looked. A little. By mistake. There's barely anything written on that paper a…and I’m just doing what I was told.”
“Doing what you were told?” His step forward makes the floor creak beneath him. Those eyes watch me suspiciously.
“You speak as if following orders gives you the right to ignore discipline. You have no regard for protocol… zero respect for authority…”
“And you are a big liar who claimed he needed me to act as a spy yet here I am, not allowed to go out. Not once ...”
“Ira.”
The word cuts off my ranting, causing me to nearly choke on unexpressed fury.
Something about the way he says my name… Hard and commanding… makes every nerve in me tremble.
His stare doesn’t soften. “Remember who you're talking to.”
I swallow, but refuse to drop my head in submission.
“Pick up the file,” he utters, the fight drained out of his voice.
Knowing I won't be leaving if I disobey, I kneel to grab the file.
Or at least, the plan is to kneel.
What actually happens is my foot catches the end of my gown, my balance betrays me, and I tip forward like my body forgot gravity exists.
A pained groan escapes me as I try to catch myself, but then my hand slips. And for a brief moment I'm falling…
My knees hit the hard floor and my face collides with something firm.
Not the floor, but him.
My parted lips, and nose press against the unmistakable middle of his low-slung pants.
Oh goddess.
My breath hangs somewhere between a gasp and a painful plea to the goddess as Ruel’s entire body goes rigid above me.
A low, guttural sound rumbles out of his chest. It comes out like a curse as his hand snaps to my shoulder like an iron clamp, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, holding me exactly where I am.
Right there, against him… still able to feel the heat radiating off him.
My fingers curl into weak fists as his scent… that alluring dark scent pours over me until I’m drowning in it.
My breathing becomes loud in my ear as I dare to look up.
Darn mistake.
Ruel's pupils are blown, the grey giving way to a golden colour. A muscle ticks violently in his cheek as he locks his jaw. Every tendon in his throat stands out as he swallows, once, like he’s choking down something that badly wants to get out.
My eyes flutter as I feel my pulse everywhere… it's between my thighs, behind my knees, in the frantic flutter at my throat.
My legs shift without my permission, my thighs brushing, seeking a pressure I refuse to think about.
“Ira,” Ruel rasps, that single word tearing through my restraint. “Leave.”
I should. I should run away and never meet his eyes again. But my body feels like it doesn’t belong to me anymore.
“Ira.” He says with greater force. “Get out. Now.”
The command is harsh against my ear, forcing me to tear my gaze away from him.
I try to stand but my shaking legs betray me, making my palms land on the nearest solid thing.
His thigh.
Warm muscle jumps beneath my touch. It feels like hot steel wrapped in the richest silk.
He hisses through clenched teeth as the hand on my shoulder spasms. His fingers flex like he’s fighting both the urge to yank me closer and push me away.
I drag myself upright, allowing my hands to slowly slide up the sculpted length of his thigh far longer than necessary.
My heart thumps when his hips shift… just once… forward. It's an involuntary chase for my touch but it strangely fill me with pride.
I should be scared… disgusted even but knowing I have this much control over him causes something to swell within me.
When I’m finally on my feet, we're close enough that the heat radiating off him licks across my chest, my throat, my lips still tingling from where they brushed him.
His eyes lock on mine, wild and possessive. I don't look away. Not even when I start panting due to my racing heart.
But then he pulls away, his eyes hard when he commands, “Get out.”
I step back, ignoring how his feral growl burns within me with everything but fear and understanding.
Why does it feel so good watching him struggle to keep his hands off me?