Chapter 6 #2
Every instinct urged me to run away, to leave his penthouse and never come back. Yet another part of me, the part I wasn’t fully ready to face, wanted to stay. Thal had a unique ability to challenge my loyalty, something nobody had ever done before.
“When was the last time, Daphne, that Zeno truly trusted anyone but himself?”
I sighed, shaking my head, annoyed that his words hit so close to home. I hated that he was right. Zeno trusted no one, not even me. He questioned me constantly. He was suspicious and had accused me more than once of stepping outside our ranks.
Still, I’d never done so.
Until now…
“Why are you doing this, Thal?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He took a step closer. Too close.
“Don’t you see, Daphne?”
“If I understood, I wouldn’t have asked.”
A slow, lingering smile stretched across his handsome face, softening his features with a hint of vulnerability.
“I care about you," he said, reaching up to touch my cheek. “Our time together didn’t leave me unaffected. You had quite the impact on me, Daphne.”
“That was just a temporary fling,” I reminded him, my voice steady but a little guarded.
He leaned in and challenged, “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t real, does it?”
I averted my gaze, unable to bear the depth of his stare, feeling as if he saw right through my defenses. It was as if his gaze could peel away the walls I had built, revealing the fragile vulnerability beneath. I fought the urge to break, to reveal how much I was still affected.
“Was it real?” he demanded.
Memories flooded my mind. Us tangled in passionate chaos, flames licking at the edges of our bond.
It was wild and fierce, like a wildfire that swept everything away, scorching hot and unforgettable.
The heat from that moment, of us lost in each other, stirred a familiar pulse in my chest. Neither of us had forgotten.
When I looked back at him, he was still fixated on me, eyes unwavering and unrelenting.
I took a breath, steadying myself before murmuring, “It was real. But it’s over, Thal.”
The softness inside me threatened to spill out. Being around Thal left me feeling vulnerable, made me question every defense I’d put up between myself and his memory. But here in front of me like this? There was no denying the sparks flying between us. I took a step back.
“What are you offering?” I asked, my voice just above a whisper, as I tried to concentrate on the matter at hand, while ignoring the ache in my body that longed for his touch.
“Protection, plain and simple,” he replied with a shrug, his tone almost nonchalant, which hid the weight of his words.
“In exchange for what?” I asked.
His eyes met mine, showing a brief flash of confidence before he replied, “Knowledge. You, more than anyone, understand the complex workings of Zeno’s empire.”
His proposal sparkled with temptation, offering a path to the life I had always imagined, a life free from shadow and peril. However, behind that appeal was the danger of ruin, with death and destruction concealed just ahead.
The promise of safety was tempting enough to make resistance difficult.
“If Zeno discovers this, he’ll kill us both,” I warned.
His eyes rested on mine, searching intently, before he spoke with a calm, steady voice. “I’ll never let that happen.”
Thal's arrogance was undeniable, with an ego as immense and radiant as the sun was dangerous in its brightness. The wisest choice would have been to step back and avoid the edge. However, he then broke through my defenses, his tone softening as he held my face with his warm hand.
“Zeno doesn’t really care about you, Daphne. If he did, nobody would be following you, definitely not me. Has he ever looked out for your safety? Let me protect you. It would kill me if anything ever happened to you.”
Fuck.
His words were gentle and reassuring yet felt genuinely sincere.
I trusted him. Every instinct told me Thal was honest. That rare certainty made a deep impression.
I realized that once I left him, my warning signals would heighten when dealing with others.
Without meaning to, he had planted a powerful seed of paranoia in my thoughts.
“Daphne, I’m not claiming to be your hero. I believe in your strength. You can save yourself. But may I offer you a small sanctuary, please?”
The word “sanctuary” lingered in my mind.
In Thal’s arms, I experienced that rare feeling of safety for the first time.
Zeno’s world was a whirlwind of chaos and unpredictability, and I suspected Thal’s life was no different, especially here in Vegas.
But there, amidst turquoise waters and peaceful island scenes, I truly thought of that place as a sanctuary.
Maybe he said it on purpose, or maybe I just imagined it altogether. I couldn’t remember if I even voiced that thought out loud while we were there. Still, the feeling hit me hard, breaking through my defenses and making me tremble with unspoken emotion.
I looked into his eyes, sensing an undeniable connection that pulled me toward him, even as my resolve wavered and almost broke.
“Why should I trust you?” I whispered, my voice trembling as my faint resolve wavered, despite my desperate effort to brace myself.
“You shouldn’t.” He shook his head. “But I would appreciate it if you let me prove myself to you. Give me a reason to earn your trust, Daphne. Please?”
His words silenced me, leaving no room for a reply. Did I have anything to lose but, essentially, everything? Yet, when I considered what I stood to gain... I let out a deep, weighty sigh that freed me from my last bits of resistance.
He walked over, placing his hand on my cheek again, and I lowered my face into the palm of his hand. His gaze darkened with desire, a storm of emotions mirroring my own turmoil. The tension between us intensified, stealing my breath.
“Thal,” I whispered, my head shaking in a final feeble protest that my body didn't believe.
“No matter what you decide, Daphne, I’ll always be here for you.”
His words felt like a balm, a cool liquid poured over the raw, open wounds Zeno had left. In that moment, the truth settled into my bones, heavy as a mountain. Maybe this wasn’t a betrayal. Maybe it was an evolution. Perhaps I wasn’t destined to be a ghost in Zeno’s gold-leafed machine forever.
It was time for me to stand on my own, even if I stood in the shadow of another king.
I looked at Thal’s lips, my body trembling with a desire so sharp it felt like a blade against my skin.
The small flicker of passion I’d been trying to douse for years erupted into an intense, all-consuming wildfire of hunger.
Hunger for freedom. Hunger for Thal. Hunger for the dangerous, unfiltered life he embodied.
It burst forth with a raw, primal urge to be as close to him as humanly possible, to merge our skins until I couldn't tell where my debt ended and his obsession began.
My lips met his, warm and soft at first, a tentative question. But when he didn’t pull away, he met me with a groan that sounded like a prayer, and the passion exploded. I kissed him harder, my mouth an open wound, releasing every ounce of longing I’d held back since Aruba.
The last two times we’d seen each other, our kisses had been fleeting, frustrating, and furious.
This was different. This was a reclamation.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, my mouth devouring his moans.
I tasted the whiskey and the dark promise on his tongue.
His hands found my hips, pulling me flush against him.
I gasped as his hardness pressed against my belly, a thick, throbbing reminder of what I’d been missing.
A deep, low growl vibrated through his chest and into mine as he gripped my hips, grinding his length against me.
It sent a flash of memory through my mind—a sensory blitz of Thal’s body slamming into mine, the feel of his mouth working between my thighs, the way my world used to shatter under his touch.
I pulled my mouth away just an inch, searching his eyes for a reason to stop, for a sign of the man who had let me walk away years ago. I found nothing but a savage, bottomless need that mirrored my own.
“Daphne—” His voice was a ragged warning.
“No more words, Thal. Please,” I begged, pressing a trembling finger to his lips. His pupils were so blown they swallowed the ice blue of his irises, leaving only the dark storm of his hunger. “Just take me. Now. Before I remember how to be a coward.”
With a pained, guttural groan, he bent and swept me into his arms. He didn't carry me like a bride. He hauled me against his chest with predatory resolve, his stride heavy and certain as he kicked open the bedroom doors.
The moment we hit the mattress, the "gentleman" was executed.
He didn't bother with the zipper. He hooked his fingers into the neckline of my black silk dress and pulled. I heard the fabric tear with a violent, satisfying snap down the middle, a jagged rip that echoed through the quiet room.
I felt the final tether to Zeno’s “perfect ward” snap with each inch of fabric he ruined. The way he undressed me was as if he were stripping away the last three years of my life, leaving me raw and exposed in the amber glow of the firelight.
“Wait,” I gasped, my hands flying to the buttons of his shirt, frantic as I fought the heavy cotton. “I need you bare too. I need to feel all of you.”
He let out a low, dark laugh, a sound like velvet over gravel. He stripped with a fluid, violent impatience, flinging his clothes into the dark corners of the room until he loomed over me.
He was a god of marble and ill intent, his bronze skin mapped with faint white scars I’d never seen before, reminders that he was a man who took what he wanted and bled for what he kept. He was massive, corded with a tension that felt like a loaded weapon, and beautifully, terrifyingly hard.