Under Pressure
Hazel backed away and turned to run, immediately slamming into something solid.
No. Someone.
Hazel thumped off the wall-like body, landing on the time-worn floor with a thud. The impact forced the air from her lungs, and her chest heaved as she tried to regain her breath. But when she looked up, her heart skipped a beat.
Slaide towered over her, looking as unbothered as ever.
Hazel looked around the room, brows dipping in confusion. But where…?
“You look surprised to see me,” he said, his smooth-as-whiskey voice washing over her.
“Of course I am,” Hazel snapped. “How the Hel did you get in?” And how do I get out?
“You should know by now I have my ways. Besides, I live here. You think I don’t know about the secret, walled-off library?”
Okay, fine. “Maybe, but did you know there was a secret passageway in your own damn room that dumps you in here if you lean too hard on the wall?”
Slaide’s reaction was almost unnoticeable, just a shift in posture. But it said more than words ever could.
“It’s better if you don’t know the answer to that question, sweets.” He smirked and broke eye contact as he bent at the waist to pick something up.
Hazel blanched when he stood up holding the leather-bound book in his hand.
“And stealing, no less?” He wagged a finger at her, stepping into her space and handing the book back.
She snatched it out of his hand and retreated a step. Sure, his allure was intoxicating, but she was on such dangerous ground here. A witch testing her luck with a witch hunter. Quite literally flirting with death.
Slaide noticed the mirror, as though it wasn’t towering over both of their heads the entire time.
He side-eyed her through narrowed eyes. “Did you?”
Hazel shrugged, not wanting to reveal too much.
“Oh, ho, ho.” A feral grin spread across his face. “The little witch is trying to get an early start on the trials, I see? Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the sneakiest of them all?”
She still maintained her silence, refusing to meet his gaze.
A finger curled under her chin, tipping her face upward so she was looking into his sinfully golden eyes. “Two truths and a lie,” he said. “I wonder what it showed you.”
“That’s for me to know, and no one else,” she snapped, jerking her chin away.
He slid his hands into his pockets but maintained a posture that made her feel small in his presence.
“For now, maybe. But rumor has it this pretty little mirror will be brought out for one of the trials. It has this fancy little trick it does where it drives men into madness, so forgive me for finding it more than a little curious that you’ve engaged with the Mirror of Truth without losing your head.
Though I suppose that bodes well for us, should it be used in the trials. ”
“Us? Last time I checked, you weren’t competing.” She scoffed.
“And last time I checked, Hazel dearest, I’m responsible for your performance. Staying alive is just as important as keeping your mental faculties intact to avoid disqualification. Forgive me for protecting my investment.”
Gods, this man is as insufferable as they come. “What is your investment, anyway? Why me? Why do you care?”
“Care? No. I have a vested interest in your success, but don’t get it twisted. Once you’ve won the tournament, whether through skill or sheer dumb luck, I could not care less what becomes of you.”
It stung more than it should have.
Slaide stepped closer, looming over her.
It was the first time she noticed his scent, that intoxicatingly earthy smell left to linger in the air just after a storm…
petrichor mixed with something rich—something dark.
Hazel’s back bumped the bookcase behind her, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the realization she had nowhere to go.
He braced his arm against the shelf above her head as he leaned into her space. Shadows swirled around him with a life of their own, watching, waiting.
Hazel turned her head, not wanting to shrink in his presence but unable to meet his intensity. Her locket burned, but she didn’t budge.
“Little witch, little witch, let me in,” he growled. His shadows caressed her cheek, gently pushing her to face him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her voice betraying her feigned confidence as it wavered.
His free hand hovered below her chin, near her collarbone; his eyes devoured hers. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“Being obtuse, obviously,” Hazel retorted.
He smirked down at her. “You’re fascinating, Hazel.
Since the moment we crossed paths in your town, you’ve wanted nothing more than to hate my guts—rightfully so, I might add.
But look at you now, backed into the very corner you probably swore you’d never find yourself in. And yet, you don’t tremble.”
“I’m not scared.”
His eyes traced the column of her throat, where her fluttering pulse betrayed her anticipation. A wicked smile curved his mouth.
“Oh, I doubt that very much, little witch. You’re very scared. And you should be.” He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. When he opened them, they were no longer those molten amber pools. They were endless pits of darkness—the eyes of a hunter.
“Do you know what I like about you?” His voice grew gravelly, so low it made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
She wouldn’t dignify that with a response. There was nothing he could or should like about her. They barely knew one another, and by nature alone they were enemies.
He grinned again, making Hazel wonder if she’d said those things aloud. Perhaps her silence said enough.
“It’s the way you glare at me, as though you’d burn me to ash with a single look if you could.” He brought his face closer to hers, his dark eyes searching as they flitted back and forth.
“You make me want to test you,” he continued as mischief danced across his face, “physically and mentally. I want to explore what makes you tick and learn what sounds you make when you’re unable to utter a single coherent word.”
She swallowed hard, and her core betrayed her stubbornness at his velvet-wrapped words. Warmth spread throughout her body, forcing her to shove down the intrusive thoughts creeping in. To ignore how caged in she was by his body.
“I wonder how long I can hover here, tempting you with what you desire but can’t have? Close enough to steal your breath, but never quite giving you what you want?”
“There is absolutely nothing you have that I want.” Liar, liar. In reality, it was a good thing the library had been cleared out, because she was going to combust.
“Oh, I know. That’s what makes this so much more fun. But mark my words, sweets. When I do take what I want, and I will,” he brushed his thumb across her lower lip, “you’ll already be begging for it.”
Hazel locked her knees or else they would have buckled. Fuck, he’s good. She reined in her focus, refusing to give him another ounce of satisfaction.
Slaide had the audacity to wink at her before pushing off the bookcase and turning his back on her.
“Come with me, little witch. The way out is right over here,” he said, his voice aloft with sinful satisfaction. He gestured over his shoulder for her to follow.
And as she obeyed just one command, Hazel’s throat bobbed, suddenly hyper-aware that she was at his mercy in more ways than she cared to admit.