17

kaira astor

The bandage bites into my skin as he tightens it around my palm. I keep my gaze fixed on the fray of my denim, pressing my index finger into the cold surface whenever Zyran's fingertips brush my skin. That's when it dawned on me again, how is he able to touch me? My hair falls over my face, covering the redness that flushes my cheeks and the pressure of my split index finger against the hard surface, keeps my attention partly swayed away from Zyran and his entire presence. His fingers press down on my wrist, right above my pulse and I suck in a breath, clenching my jaw. Everything this man does is intruding and invading, intense and demanding.

It's utterly annoying, actually. He finishes tightening the bandage around my palm and I count in my head. I'm beyond ready to sprint out of this room and go hide beneath my sheets for the rest of the day. The way Zyran touches me is invading, as if his fingerprints will litter my skin. Not that his hold is too tight, just that it burns. He shifts closer, his muscled thigh brushing against my knee and I startle, my breath hitching in my throat. What the f**k, maliah? Rolling my bottom lip into my mouth, I gnaw at the bruised skin. It's not as if I haven't been touched by a man before-- for f**k sakes, Darian had his fingers and hands everyone-- but it's never felt like this. A simple brush from Zyran has my heart galloping and I figure it's because I hate him. Is that the only reason? my subconscious taunts and my eyelashes flutter shut.

"Maliah," His breath falls over my head, strands of my hair fluttering with how close he's standing, looming over me in utter darkness. I shudder. Maliah. Not little monster. Not princess. Not Kaira. Maliah. My heart lurches in my chest, shallow breaths escaping my parted lips, his body so close that my fingers tremble to reach out and push him away. I just need to breathe. "Maliah." He says again, a demanding edge to his voice and I swallow, keeping my head low. "Yeah?" I whisper, my throat dry and my body tingling. "Where else did you cut yourself?" Zyran's voice is calm and steady, as if none of this affects him. I slightly lift my head, peeking up at him through my lashes and meet his cold, controlled eyes, no emotion flinting through those hollow hues. Of course, he's my guard, he needs to do things like this.

I lower my gaze to his chest and hesitate, heaving out a sigh before lifting my right hand, the tip of my index finger throbs as the burning sensation floods my hand. Zyran's broad chest heaves as he sighs, letting go of my left hands and grabs my other hand. "I can do it," I start to pull my hand toward me, but Zyran's hold tightens, keeping me in place as he leans over and grabs a wipe, cleaning away the blood. "I doubt it." The sting of the wipe causes me to hiss, my eyes narrowing in on his chest. "I might be a 'sheltered, spoiled princess' but I sure as f**k can clean and wrap my own cuts, asshole." I snap, all the emotions and adrenaline exploding in side my chest.

My narrowed eyes flash up to his face. His hand halts, hovering over my finger with the wipe and the other flexes around my wrist. His jaw tightens, the muscles prompt in his cheek. I watch him, unblinking as he pivots his head toward mine, his eyes sharp and hard and I nearly shrink away, the shadows in his hues overwhelming and the need to push him away and dart out of the bathroom overflows every other emotion in my chest. "You're trembling so hard that I'm sure if you were to stand, your knees would buckle," He drawls out, tilting his head to the side only slightly. I suck in a breath and narrow my eyes further. Despite the embarrassment flooding through me, I push to lean toward anger. I'm not weak. I can't allow him to have control over every situation.

He reaches over and opens a small plaster, skillfully wrapping it around my finger and drops my hand, and just as I release a breath of air, ready to leave, Zyran invades my space. Placing his large palms on either side of my thighs, he leans in, swallowing up the space between us, his eyes boring down into mine. My shoulders stiffen and my spine goes rigid, fully aware of the space left between us. "Is it because of the cuts on your hands, or because of an entirely different reason, Princess?" The taunt leaves his mouth so smoothly, so sinfully and so utterly weaved with darkness that my lips part. "Because with the way you clenched your thighs, I'm guessing it wasn't the cuts, was it?" Low and soothing, washing over my skin and leaves goosebumps prickling all over my body. f**k. My breath hitches in my throat and all I can do is just stare at him with wide eyes, heat spreading over the insides of my thighs.

He saw me clenching my thighs? I press my lips into a thin line, my eyes dropping to the tattoo on his neck. Zyran's thumb grazes over the side of my thigh and I jolt, my eyes flashing to his. "The cuts. It was just the cuts." I blurt out, heat crawling up my neck and resting on my cheeks. What is wrong with this man? His lips pull up into a faint smirk, his left cheek denting with a dimple and a rush of air leaves me. He hums, his eyes flicking between mine before he shifts backward, lifting his hand and runs his fingers through his silky strands, ruffling it out. I blow out a breath of air, my shoulders falling in relief.

"Seeing that I'm such an asshole, why'd you sneak into my room?" He takes another long, calculated stride backward and leans back against the shower, his eyes not leaving mine as he folds his arms across his broad chest and tilts his head back against the glass, watching me with cold eyes. I squirm underneath his gaze, the photo I found flashing in my mind and guilt floods my lower stomach. Under his scrutiny, I drop my eyes. Think. Think. Think. "I was looking for Amara. She mentioned coming here today." My fingers find the hem of my shirt and I squeeze, the lie croaking out of my throat. 'I can see why you struggle to lie, knowing you can pull truths from being with your mere touch,' His croaky voice fills my head and I clench my jaw.

"Is that why you were so shocked when she knocked at my door?" He drawls out, his gaze burning my skin. I sigh through my nose and slide down, gripping the edge of the sink behind me. "Yes," I clear my throat, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and lift my gaze. "I startled when I heard you at the door and hid behind your bed because I figured it'd look weird if you found me in your room." Half-lie, half-truth. I blink back at him, inhaling a sharp breath to keep my emotions at bay. Zyran's green eyes narrow slightly as he lifts his head, pressing the tip of his tongue into the side of his cheek. "It was stupid, and I apologize, I won't come into your room again." I rush out before he can say anything else.

I feel like a mess, all over the place and I just need to leave and get away from his observant eyes. I just need to breathe, and he's not allowing me to breathe. I straighten, lifting my chin. Control. I need to take control over this situation. "I'm going to leave now, and you can't stop me-- because if you do, I will tell my father, and he won't be happy about that." My voice comes out firm and cold, the way I would talk to any other guard. "Thank you for cleaning and wrapping my cuts." I dip my chin into a nod, not meeting his eyes. "I'll see you later for training." I mumble and then clear my throat, pivoting to the side and stride out of his room, his gaze full of amusement lingering on my back as he tracks me across the door. I swing open the door, not caring who is in the hall, just that I'm getting away from Zyran.

----

I step into my room and close the door behind me, leaning my weight against the wood as I inhale a sharp breath, my lungs expanding. I close my eyes and sigh. "What the f**k happened to your hand?" Amara's shrill voice cuts through my moment of peace and I nearly groan. My eyes flutter open and I find her on sitting on the edge of my bed, her snake eyes wide as she watches me. I chew on the inside of my cheek, her words flooding through my mind. 'Another time.' Zyran said.

I lift my shoulder up into a shrug and move toward my dresser. "Training. It's not that serious." I clear my throat and shuffle through my drawers, searching for pain medicine. Amara is silent, watching me closely. My heart skips a beat. Did she somehow see me? Did one of the guards see me leaving Zyran's room and tell her about her? Does she know? I chew on my bottom lip, dipping my head further so that my hair covers my face. "That's weird. Did you hurt Zyran too? Because there was a bloodied hand print on his sheets." My heart drops.