Chapter 6
My fingers clenched subconsciously. Orion was clever, and he'd struck straight at my weak spot.
"Scared?" His voice was soft and slow, like he was coaxing a frightened child. "If you are, let me go. I always keep my word. If you join the Shadow Sect, I'll protect you. It's way better than being a deadweight in the Stormblade Sect."
I looked at him. He lay on the bed, chains wrapped around his wrists, his hair scattered across the pillow, his collar slightly open, exposing a stretch of skin.
When he spoke, his tone was airy, as if he were talking about a deal with no risk and all reward.
His eyes were enticing, his lips curved, and the whole of him was like a blade wrapped in soft cloth.
"Done talking?" I asked.
He paused.
"You've said your piece," I said. "Now it's my turn."
I moved in a bit closer.
He didn't try to dodge. He couldn't, really. With all that Miredust I'd dosed him with, his whole body was limp. His mouth was probably the only thing still tough.
I was close enough to see the curve of his lashes.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice going cold.
I didn't answer.
I leaned in closer, our noses touching. He stopped breathing for a second.
I kissed him.
His lips were cool and soft, and he hadn't had time to close them.
I gave him a quick kiss and pulled away.
His eyes went wide. The coldness, the mockery, and the superior air were all gone.
"You..." he started, his voice cracking.
I leaned in and pressed another kiss to his lips.
This time, I lingered longer. As my lips brushed his lower lip, he froze.
The chains clattered as he struggled, but he couldn't get free. His fingers gripped the sheets, knuckles white with tension.
I pulled away.
His lips were reddened from my kiss, just a small spot, like he'd been nipped.
His face went red all at once, like someone had splashed him with boiling water, the flush racing from his neck up to his ears.
It wasn't embarrassment. He was pissed, blood rushing to his face from sheer anger.
"You're crazy," he said, his voice hoarse, nothing like his usual self. "I'm the Grandmaster of the Shadow Sect..."
"I know," I said.
"I'll kill you," he said.
"I know," I said.
He fell silent, staring at me, his face and ears still flushed bright red.
The spot on his lips where I'd kissed him was still marked, the color lingering.
His breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling, the chains softly clinking with every uneven breath.
I stood up and smoothed out my skirt. "Are you hungry?"
He didn't say a word.
"I'll go get you something to eat," I said, heading for the door. I glanced back at him.
"Orion," I called out.
He didn't answer.
"You'll get used to it," I said.
His chest rose and fell hard.
I closed the door, leaving him in the dark. I leaned against the door, my heart racing, my hands shaking.
I glanced down at my hand, the one that had just touched his face. I squeezed it, held on for a bit, then let go.
The secret room was utterly silent. Orion didn't shout, didn't curse, didn't even try to break anything.
It was so quiet, as if he was still asleep.
After a while, I came back from the kitchen with a bowl of soup.
Soup, some pickles, and a piece of bread. That was all the kitchen had left.
He was slouched against the headboard, chains dangling from his wrists. When the door creaked open, he shot me a quick look, then turned away.
"Eat," I said, setting the tray down on the small table beside the bed.
He glanced at the bowl of soup, but didn't budge.
"Not eating?" I asked.
"How am I supposed to eat right now?" His voice was still hoarse, but a bit better than before.
"You have to eat, whether you want to or not," I said, spooning up some soup and holding it to his lips. He turned his head away. I tried again, and he dodged.
I set the spoon back in the bowl and fixed my gaze on him.
He leaned against the pillow, giving me a cold, distant look, like a portrait. The person in the painting might be unhappy, but the picture was still striking.
"If you won't eat, I'll feed you," I said.
He shot me a look. "Isn't that what you're doing right now?"
"I'm talking about a different kind of feeding," I said.
He blinked, stunned. Then his face went red again, the flush creeping all the way up to his ears.
He opened his mouth, ready to curse me, but nothing came out. He looked like a proper gentleman who'd been shamelessly taken advantage of.
In the end, he turned away, refusing to look at me.
I picked up the bowl and brought the spoon up to his mouth.
He opened his mouth and let me feed him. One spoonful, then another, then a third.
He finished the soup and ate the pickles. I tore the bread into small pieces and fed him one by one.
I picked up a handkerchief and went to wipe the corner of his mouth for him. He tried to turn away, but couldn't escape me.
"What's your name?" he suddenly asked.
"Lydia Sterling," I replied.
"Lydia Sterling," he repeated. "Who is your master in the Stormblade Sect?"
"No one. I'm the Grandmaster's daughter," I said, my tone flat.