Declare War

"Why me?"

She crossed her palms in her lap as she watched him stir the cream into his coffee. She was too nervous to try and lift a hot beverage to her lips. She studied the curve of his knuckles, admiring the faint, downy hairs that traced up his arm, recalling what he looked like underneath the rolled sleeves as his arm flexed. Good arms.

He watched her study him. He'd been under scrutiny before. This time it was different. He felt the weight of her expectations, felt her emotions swirling in her. He usually veered away from such things, opting for the indifference found in mutual blind passion. But this one, this one was different. His intrigue grew as he watched her; for how timid she could be, how dictated by her self-proclaimed naïveté, she had no problem drinking him in like a tonic. His lip curled upward as their eyes met. She glanced away, and as cool as he remained, he felt the warmth of desire build. He lifted the coffee to his lip, almost relieved its temperature was greater than his own.

"Why not?" He responded softly.

She found something interesting on the floor, staring at it earnestly as her brow furrowed. Ah, that wasn't enough of an answer, was it? No. Of course not. Now her mind would be running wild, wondering if he wanted her simply because they had crossed paths. If she'd been so nondescript that he'd only singled her out because of a lack of options. His cup thankfully hid the smirk. Oh, how wrong she was. How unaware of her aura.

Truth be told, she already had him chained. Lashed to the mast, as it were. Every response she ventured, every anecdote she found so mundane, every hint of more that she'd desperately tried to brush off had hooked him deeper. He wasn't just a hunter seeking his prey anymore. This was something else. She was something else. She fiddled with the sugar sticks and met his eyes once more. That challenging glint, that defiance she clung to so tightly to stop herself from falling or feeling. He held her gaze. Watched the unspoken thoughts cross her expression with more clarity and coherency than words could ever allow. He looked away first this time. 'Give her a taste of triumph.'

"I'm sure that list is concise, but that's not what I asked," she mused, folding her napkin back and forth into a concertina. "I asked why me?"

He nodded and relaxed back in his chair. "That's not something I can tell you," he folded his arms as she made to interrupt. Oh no, princess, not this time. You'll hear me out now. He watched her wrestle the argument back down before he continued.

"But I will show you."

She squirmed and shifted. That restless little lost girl fighting against the woman. He couldn't have told her what he found enjoyable in it, only that it drove him to want to push harder, to break and tear and rip away every godforsaken barrier she'd set in place. She was a caged tigress, a glittering diamond marred by years of neglect and dirt. For every metaphor he could put to her, he wanted to bask in her presence even more. She was simply her. Nothing special, and yet inherently unique. Singular, rare, endangered. He wanted to protect her, guide her, soothe her, and enrage her. To feast on every emotion he saw in that storm behind her emerald eyes.

But he didn't say another word.

She watched him keenly, studying her opponent. He smiled blankly as he considered how wrong she was again. They were already a team, a unit, a force to be reckoned with. She only need give the command, and he would go to his grave before he failed her. She was his. She simply had to acknowledge it.

His heart played out a strong, steady rhythm in contrast to her own erratic pulse. He saw the shallow rise and fall of her chest, saw the curve of promise that he wanted to lose himself in. He didn't mask his enjoyment of her features; instead he roamed over her as openly as she did him. He could commit her to memory for hours, until not an inch of her was left unexposed, untouched, unsavoured. But he wanted something else. He could lose himself in the delights of flesh any time. What he sought from her ran deeper. He wanted to own and claim her body, yes, but more than that, he wanted her mind. Her beautiful, brilliant mind. He pulled in a breath to steady himself, already conscious of his body's reaction to her. Why her? Ha. How could it not be?

She set out the fanned napkin with a triumphant smile, bolstered by her distraction. She needed something that would settle her. His warmth was too inviting, his arms too tempting to fall into, and his smile too devastating to survive. She glanced at him sideways and flushed. He was intense. His eyes saw through her, she was sure of it. She would have questioned his gaze again, but the words just wouldn't come anymore.

She only heard one thing now. Over and over. Stronger every time. Permeating her every thought, coaxing her out of her nervous shell: I will show you.

Show her what? Her heartrate danced as her mind hummed with possibility.

Show you yourself.

Show you passion.

Show you heat.

Show you need.

Show you release.

Show you who you are.

He was stronger than her. She admired that. And he was so much cooler and more controlled. She envied him that. She swallowed what pride she had and met his gaze once more. Why her? Why him? Why did he have such a hold?

The answer was simple: Because he could wield it. And because she would let only him do so.

A beat passed between them, as her mind played out the premonition of what she was about to embark upon. A dark and twisted path, knotted with thorns and danger, twists and turns, and leading to what? She didn't care about such uncertainties anymore, as long as she had a guide.

One little acquiescence would be enough.

"Then show me."