Page 13 of Ruthless Desire

He steps closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “Scared of what?”

“Of you.” I gesture between us, the electric tension that crackles in the air. “Of everything you represent.”

His eyes darken, a flicker of something dangerous and primal. “And what do you think I represent, Natalie?”

“Destruction,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Chaos. A world I’m not sure I can survive in.”

He smiles, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. “Or maybe you’re afraid because you know you belong in it. Because you know you can thrive in it.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Is that it? Am I afraid because I see a reflection of my own darkness in him? Because I sense that he could drag me down into the depths, but also lift me to heights I’ve never imagined?

“I don’t know,” I say again, my voice barely audible. “I just don’t know.”

He’s so close now, his body heat radiating against me. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing against my cheek, and I shiver at the contact. It’s gentle, almost tender, but there’s a promise of something more, something wild and untamed.

“You do know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re just afraid to admit it.”

His eyes darken, a dangerous glint sparking in their depths. "Don't pretend you don't feel this, too. The pull between us, the gravity that's drawing us together."

I shake my head, the denial a fragile shield against the truth he's laying bare. "No. I value my autonomy too much to be tied to danger like you. I won't let you drag me down."

His expression hardens, the predator emerging fully now. "You're already in the darkness, Natalie. I'm offering you a way to navigate it, to harness it. Together, we could create something magnificent."

I swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "I won't be consumed by you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

His grip tightens on my wrist, a blend of command and frustration. "I'm not asking you to be consumed. I'm asking you to embrace who you are, without fear. To unleash the power within you."

I stare into his eyes, the battle raging inside me. Part of me is drawn to him, to the danger and the promise of understanding. But the other part, the part that values my freedom and fears the loss of control, resists with all its might.

"Let me go," I demand, my voice stronger now, filled with the resolve to maintain my autonomy.

For a moment, he holds my gaze, his grip unyielding. Then, with a frustrated growl, he releases me. "Very well, Natalie. But know this: running won't save you from what you are. It will only delay the inevitable."

I take a deep, shuddering breath, my resolve hardening. "I'll face it on my terms, not yours."

He nods, a faint smile playing on his lips, tinged with both admiration and warning. "Very well. But don't be surprised when our paths cross again. The pull between us is stronger than either of us can deny."

With that, he steps back, giving me the space I need to breathe. I turn and walk away, my heart pounding and my mind racing. The night is far from over, and the darkness still looms, but for now, I have a moment of clarity—a fleeting sense of control in a world teetering on the edge of chaos.

I walk away from him, my steps measured and deliberate, even as my heart races and my mind whirls. The night air feels cool against my flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat that lingers from his touch. I can still feel the weight of his gaze on my back, the unspoken promise—or is it a threat—that this is far from over.

But I refuse to look back. Refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he's rattled me. I keep my head high and my shoulders straight as I hail a cab, the city lights blurring into a neon kaleidoscope as we speed towards my apartment.

It's only when I'm safely locked behind my own door that I allow myself to crumple. To press my forehead against the cool wood and let the shudders wrack my frame, the adrenaline draining away to leave me hollow and shaken.

What the hell just happened? Who was that man, with his dark eyes and his darker promises? And why did every fiber of my being sing with recognition, with a bone-deep knowing that terrifies me more than any physical threat?

I push off from the door, my legs unsteady as I stumble towards the bedroom. I need sleep. Need to forget, just for a few hours, the siren call of his words and the traitorous heat they ignited in my veins.

But even as I collapse onto the mattress, still in my gala dress and heels, I know it's futile. He's already under my skin, a splinter in my mind that I can't seem to extract.

As I finally drift off, it's to the echo of his voice in my ears. The phantom press of his fingers on my wrist, branding and inescapable.

And in my dreams, the darkness takes shape around me, pulling me under with seductive whispers and the promise of a twisted salvation.

I wake up to the sound of sirens, their wailing a familiar lullaby in this hellhole of a city. For a moment, I just lie there, staring at the water stains on the ceiling, trying to remember what it feels like to give a damn.

It’s been easier lately, what with my mysterious benefactor playing fairy godmother. But I know better than to trust it. In my experience, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Sooner or later, the bill always comes due.

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