4. Properly Motivated
Chapter four
Properly Motivated
The solitude stretched on for many days before the shadows in the corners of the cabin started to shift, just barely, but enough to catch my eye.
At first, I think nothing of it, but then it happens again, more defined this time.
A flicker of recognition stirs in me, mixed with a quiet sense of dread I can’t quite shake.
I can feel his presence even before I see him. His magic is a dark wave that rolls over me, drowning me. I dread his presence. I want to be left alone, to hide from him and find a way to escape this world he brought me into.
The shadows coil tighter. The urge to scream rises, to run, but my body freezes, my limbs heavy with the knowledge of his nearness.
A heartbeat later, he appears before me.
His frame fills the space between the door and the table.
His very existence makes this small cabin feel claustrophobic.
His eyes glow with the same ethereal glow as I saw before.
His expression is unreadable, his lips curling into a faint smile that sends a fire through my entire body, prickling at my skin.
I don’t move. I can’t. I’m caught in his stare, unable to pull away, my mind spinning with questions and fear.
I force myself to look around, my eyes darting to the walls, to the floor. Searching for something I can use, anything to defend myself. But there is nothing. Nothing except the walls that have closed in on me again.
Oberon’s eyes sweep around the cabin, taking in the scattered remnants of my makeshift training grounds, books are overturned, objects haphazardly thrown around, and the faint, almost imperceptible burns from my failed attempts at harnessing my magic.
His view drifts to a few of the marks, the light from the window catching their edges.
“Well, you’ve certainly been keeping yourself busy,” he remarks, his voice smooth, but there is something darker in the way his eyes flick back to me, sharp and assessing.
The intensity of his glower makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand, its weight almost crushing.
I can’t help but want to shrink back, but I force myself to hold his gaze.
“Glad you took my advice on the bath,” he continues, his tone almost cruel.
“And the clothes suit you, too.” His eyes rove over the cabin again, slowly scanning, taking stock of the mess before he speaks again.
“It’s good you’re training your magic,” he says, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.
“Though I can’t say I’m impressed.” His amusement lingers in the air as he traces one of the burn marks.
“It doesn’t look like it’s enough, though, is it?
” he adds, mocking my failed attempts. “Really, this is quite embarrassing.”
The words land with the quiet weight of his judgment. His smile never falters, but there is a dangerous edge to it now.
Something in me snaps. Fear still coils tight in my gut, my limbs tense with the instinct to run, but also fuck him. Fuck him and his smug, condescending tone.
I take a sharp step forward, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You arrogant, insufferable bastard,” I spit, my voice shaking, but not with fear anymore.
This is rage. “You think this is funny? Watching me struggle, throwing out your little insults like you’re so godsdamned untouchable?
” My pulse pounds, fury making my breath come sharp and fast.
“Why don’t you crawl back into whatever miserable shadow you came from and choke on your own damn ego?”
His smirk widens, the glint in his eyes only sharpening at my outburst, but I don’t stop. “I don’t need your judgment, your amusement, or your fucking pity,” I hiss, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Say something useful or get the hell out of my way.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, my heartbeat thunders in my ears. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t so much as blink. The air between us thickens, charged with something dark and indecipherable. Then, slowly, he lets out a low, amused chuckle.
I swallow hard, my skin flushing hot, but I refuse to step back, even as my body screams at me to.
My pulse speeds up, but I keep my face still and cold, betraying nothing, refusing to show him fear, refusing to let him see his effect on me.
For a long moment, he just stands there, studying me, his eyes flicking over me as if he can see everything I was trying to hide, the fear, the power, the cracks in my walls.
The edge in my voice hangs in the air, but there is a dangerous undertone to it, a challenge, a dare. Something about his attention, that quiet, calculating observation, makes me feel like I am a game he can’t resist playing.
Oberon’s smile doesn’t falter, but there is a cold glint in his eyes that makes the air around us feel even heavier.
“Amusement is one way to put it,” his tone darker now, every word carries a subtle threat.
“But I’d prefer to think of it as . . . curiosity.
” He takes a slow step closer, the distance between us closing, making the tension in the room almost tangible.
“It would be a shame to waste such potential, wouldn’t it? ” He pauses, considering me.
“And I do like to ensure that my investments pay off.” His stare is intense as the words leave his lips.
“Is it control your after?” My tone sharp, my own amusement coming to the surface.
“To control me, my power?” I scoff at the thought.
“I can’t even control it or summon it. Your people made sure of that.
Years of torture, years of burying it so deep inside of me that I can’t even find it anymore.
” I lower my head, my nails biting into my palm as the memories resurface.
“I was terrified they’d succeed in ripping it from my very bones.
” My voice cracks with all of the pain and fury that have been simmering beneath the surface, but there is no fear left now, only a cold, seething anger.
I straighten my posture, standing tall, facing him, staring into his dark eyes, daring him now to look away from me.
Our bodies are so close I can hear his heartbeat echoing my own, but I don’t look away.
I am done with being the one who cowers.
If he wants to play games, he’ll find that I don’t like to lose.
My eyes narrow as I meet his focus.
“I didn’t need them to remind me how fragile I am.
” I let the words hang for a moment before continuing, my tone ice-cold.
“Funny how you're so interested now. Did you think I’d just forget what they did to me?” I take a cautious step forward.
“Or is the only thing you really care about seeing if you can break me?” I raise my hand, my finger presses into his chest. “Succeed where they failed?” A humorless laugh escapes as I shake my head.
Oberon’s lips curl with his deepening smile. His glare intensifies as he leans in slightly, so close, he is so close now that he is whispering in my ear. I can feel his hot, moist breath washing over the bare skin of my neck, tension filling any space left between us.
“Break you?” he breathes, his own voice barely above a whisper. He hums thoughtfully, the sound deep and coarse, reverberating through my bones. “My dear Lyra,” he purrs. “I don't need to break you. Not when you're already so beautifully cracked.” A breathless sound escapes his lips.
My eyes fly open as another shot of chills races down my spine. My legs weaken and threaten to buckle beneath me, before he steps away. I find the sudden distance relieving and jarring at the same time.
He circles me deliberately, as if savoring every moment.
“But you misunderstand me,” he says with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
“I don’t seek to control you. I want to understand you.
All of you.” His voice drops lower, as if meant only for me.
“And perhaps, help you find that power you’ve buried so deep.
” His eyes narrow. “You’d be surprised just how deep I can go when properly motivated.
” His grin widens, flashing sharp canines.
“The things I could accomplish . . . if only you’d stop fighting me. ”
He stops directly behind me, his embrace pulsating with energy, so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
For a moment, everything goes still, until he brushes a strand of hair from my neck with an unexpected, almost tender sweep.
His fingers linger just long enough to send a shiver through my spine before he whispers, his voice low and intimate, “You’re not fragile, little Lyra. ”
The softness of his touch doesn’t match the weight of his words, yet both carry an intensity that hums, leaving me breathless, caught between the pull of his closeness and the danger in his every word.
I take an intentional step forward, putting distance between us, before turning to face him.
“You can talk about power all you want, but don’t pretend you care about me finding mine.
You want to see me crumble, so can you pick up the pieces and claim victory.
” My eyes narrow. “I’m not some broken toy for you to play with. ”
Oberon’s smile deepens, and his glower intensifies, locking onto mine with a predatory sharpness.
He takes another slow, deliberate step forward, closing the space I had put between us.
His figure looms over me, filling the room with a subtle charge.
“Ah, there it is,” he says, his tone light, but there is something dark in the way he speaks. “The fire I’ve been waiting for.”
His eyes never leave mine, unblinking. “I could bend you to my will if I so desire.” The threat in his tone is unmistakable.
“But that’s not why I am here.” His voice softens.
He leans in closer, his warmth and the scent of cedarwood and rain overwhelm my senses.
“What I’m offering is something . . . more interesting, a choice.
” He shrugs his shoulders, letting the word hang between us.
A choice?