Page 25 of The Oni's Heart

But she wasn’t hearing me. Her next punch came faster this time, and I had no choice but to block it, catching her wrist in my hand and holding her there for a moment. I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the tension in her muscles, and for a split second, the fight between us was almost palpable as if it wasn’t just her fists that were striking out—it was everything she was holding inside, everything she was too afraid to face.

"Let go of me!" she hissed, trying to break free, but I wasn’t about to let her get herself caught up in something worse.

"I’m not letting go," I said quietly, the words a promise I wasn’t sure she’d ever understand. "Not until you calm down."

Her breath was ragged, her chest heaving as she struggled against me, and for a moment, I saw the storm in her eyes, the confusion, the pain, the frustration that she tried so hard to keep buried. And as much as I wanted to pull away, to leave her to whatever mess she was determined to make of herself, I couldn’t.

I couldn’t walk away from this. Not from her.

"I’m not your enemy," I added, softer now, the words carrying the weight of something I wasn’t sure I had the right to say. "But I can’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself."

Her fighting didn’t slow—it only intensified. She pushed harder, faster, more determined now, as if every punch was an effort to break something within me, to make me feel the fury she carried inside. The moment her fist connected with my chest, I felt the heat of her anger, the raw desperation in her every movement. It wasn’t just physical anymore; it was something primal, something fierce.

I had no choice but to block her hits, dodging as her blows came faster than I expected. She moved like a storm—wild, relentless, her body a weapon, and the force behind her strikes almost made it impossible to avoid them. I could feel the burn in my muscles as I shifted and parried, but no matter how muchI tried to deflect, she kept coming, her eyes wide with rage and something darker.

Her body was closer now, her breath ragged and sharp, each movement a mixture of fury and something else—something I couldn’t name, but I could feel it in the way her chest brushed against mine when she threw a punch too hard. The tension between us was thick, suffocating, and I knew that the fight we were having wasn’t just physical. It was everything we had been avoiding, everything we couldn’t say.

I caught her wrist again, my grip firm, trying to hold her still, but she wrenched free, her other hand flying at my face. I leaned back just in time to dodge, the edge of her knuckles grazing my jaw. I could feel the heat of her skin, the fury in her veins, and something dark twisted in my gut. Her rage was consuming, but there was something about how she moved, how he didn’t back down.

Her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that took me by surprise. I didn’t know if she was trying to kill me or tear me apart in some other way. My heart pounded in my chest, every instinct screaming to fight back, to show her how badly I wanted her to stop and calm down.

But I couldn’t let myself get lost in the heat of this. The last thing I wanted was to give in—to let this dangerous pull between us turn into something I couldn’t control.

"Stop," I growled, but my voice cracked under the weight of everything. "This isn’t you."

“You don’t know me,” She growled.

She didn’t stop. She was a whirlwind, her anger now matched by something else—something hotter, something more desperate. She took a step closer, raising her fist, and before I knew it, she was right in front of me, our faces inches apart, her breath mingling with mine.

The rage, the tension, the heat between us—it was impossible to ignore now. My grip on her wrist tightened, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I met her eyes, and for a brief moment, the world outside of us vanished.

Her lips parted, her chest rising and falling quickly as we stood there, too close, too tangled in everything unsaid. My pulse raced, and the space between us charged with something raw, something I couldn’t deny.

"Let go of me," she spat, her voice trembling with something darker than just anger.

I should have released her. I should have stepped back, walked away. But I couldn’t. Not now. Not when she was this close, not when every part of me screamed for her to let me in, to stop hiding behind the rage.

But I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to hold on much longer.

Before I could respond, she suddenly lurched toward me. The shock of her sudden movement caught me off guard, and for a moment, I thought she was going to headbutt me or maybe scream at me again.

But then her lips were on mine.

It was brief. A quick, unexpected collision of warmth and alcohol, of desperation and something more. Her body pressed up against mine, not gentle but urgent, reflective of trying to drown herself in something that wasn’t the void she’d been living in. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t a kiss of affection.

It was something else entirely.

I froze. My brain scrambled for something—anything—to say, but my grip on her loosened and she immediately grabbed the fabric of my robe, pulling me against her.

I couldn’t push her away. I didn’t want to.

In that moment, everything I had worked so hard to suppress, everything I had denied, started to crack open. Theline between helping her and wanting her blurred. Her kiss—unexpected, fiery—tore through the walls I’d spent years building around myself.

I could’ve stepped back, walked away. I should’ve.

But I didn’t as the demons in my head cackled with mirth and wicked satisfaction.

15

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