Page 31 of A Kiss of Deception

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. For all her bravado, Meetha is young, vulnerable. She's putting on a brave face, but beneath that defiant exterior is a scared girl who's lost everything.

I run a hand through my hair, frustration warring with an unfamiliar sense of... responsibility? Is that what this strange feeling is?

"You can't even cook a proper meal," I grumble, more to myself than to her. "How do you expect to survive on your own?"

Meetha's lips twitch, a hint of a smile breaking through her worried expression. "I'm a quick learner."

I snort. "Quick enough to navigate the dangers of Protheka without getting yourself killed?"

She lifts her chin. "I've made it this far, haven't I?"

Her stubbornness is infuriating. And oddly endearing. I feel my resolve crumbling.

I clench my jaw, a low growl rumbling in my chest. The clash of desires within me is maddening - the primal urge for freedom warring against this... this inexplicable pull towards the girl. Centuries of single-minded focus, all threatened by a pair of defiant human eyes.

The hunger for power still burns in my veins, a constant reminder of what I truly am. But now, entangled with it is a new, unsettling desire. Not just to possess, but to protect.

Meetha stands before me, chin lifted, a mix of challenge and vulnerability in her gaze. In her, I see a reflection of my own relentless drive, my own refusal to yield. It's... intoxicating.

I bare my teeth in a feral grin. Perhaps I don't have to choose. Perhaps I can have it all - power, freedom, and this infuriating, captivating girl.

With a deep sigh that's more growl than breath, I shake my head. "Fine. I'll stay. For now."

Meetha's face lights up, a brilliant smile spreading across her features. Before I can react, she lets out a squeal of victory and throws her arms around me.

I stiffen at the unexpected contact, unused to such displays of affection. But slowly, deliberately, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my chest. My grip is firm, possessive. A clear message: she's mine now, to protect and to control.

"Don't think this means you can do whatever you want," I growl into her ear, my voice low and rough. "You're under my protection now, and that means you follow my rules. Understood?"

I feel her shiver against me, whether from fear or excitement, I can't tell. And frankly, I don't care. All that matters is that she's here, in my arms, where I can keep her safe - and keep an eye on that damned ring.

"Understood," Meetha whispers, her breath warm against my neck.

I allow myself a smirk. Good. Let the games begin.

16

MEETHA

The knife slices through the vegetables with a satisfying crunch. I can't help but smile as I prepare dinner, the familiar routine oddly comforting after the chaos of the past few days.

"Hope you like stew," I call out, knowing Milkor can hear me even as he works outside.

No response comes, but I don't mind. He's busy with... messier tasks.

I hum softly to myself as I toss the chopped carrots and potatoes into the pot. The aroma of simmering meat and herbs fills the small kitchen. It's almost... normal.

"Is this what it's like?" I muse aloud. "Having a home, cooking for someone?"

The irony isn't lost on me. Here I am, playing house while Milkor disposes of my Jarvil’s body. And that woman – the damn thief. An ironic end for Jarvil, I suppose.

But the domesticity of it all feels strangely right. I stir the pot, imagining a life where this could be my everyday reality. No more fear, no more hiding bruises. Just... this.

"Something smells good."

I jump, nearly dropping the spoon. Milkor stands in the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" I scold, but there's no real heat behind it. "Is it... done?"

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