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It could’ve been just a delusion of mine, a pathetic attempt to take control over my life for once, to make something truly mine. As time slowly passed, he was more often on my mind, to the point of insanity.
I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat nor function properly if I didn’t know his every move.
And for years, I watched from the shadows, waiting for a perfect opportunity. Who would’ve thought that the opportunity would present itself when I least expected it?
The goal wasn’t to kill him, it was to merely put him in his place. No matter how much he meant to me, he was still someone who needed to know when to shut up, when to speak, or how to act.
Slowly, as the thoughts of our first official and unofficial meeting dissolved from my mind, I hid behind the door of my room. A classic kind of move. Stupid, too, yet it gave me just enough time to take out the weapon from his hands.
The handle of the knife was gripped in my palm, my ears on alert for movement. One of the things that annoyed me the most about this house were the squeaky stairs. Not all of them, but they could get loud if they were put under enough pressure.
I wanted to laugh.
He was as light on his feet as always. All of my senses were heightened, yet nothing could’ve prepared me for the way he swung the door open. With my foot, I blocked it enough not to break my fucking nose.
“Found you, little lion.”
I could barely comprehend what had happened.
One moment, I was behind the door, waiting for the second I’d get to see his face. I was holding in a breath, not wanting to completely give away where I was. But it was useless. He read me like an open book. He anticipated my moves before I even thought of them.
The next moment, I found myself in the middle of the room, lying flat on my back with Davorin caging my torso with his knees.
I was blocking his knife with my own, two inches away from my heart. Whilst mine lay horizontally, his was vertical. Motherfucker was aiming for my fucking heart. Now, it was getting harder to breathe.
He was stronger than me, slowly pressing the tip of his blade onto mine, forcing me to lower it closer to my heart. I could’ve sworn I saw the outline of the organ pressed against my skin as the beating picked up its pace.
I swallowed, eyes wide.
“Aiming for my heart? That’s a low blow,” I breathed out. Finally, the minute of surprise passed. Then, with narrowed eyes, I grabbed my wrist with my free hand and started pushing the blade back to him.
“It’s only fair,” he murmured, voice sultry. It was enough to have my stomach twist in anticipation. “You played with mine, and I take yours.”
I grinned. “That’s too corny, even for you.”
A split-second thought ran through my mind. Although it was going to mentally hurt me more than it hurt him physically, it was the only opening I had. Unpredictable yet too obvious. His brows knit together at the sudden change in my appearance and then I struck.
I raised my knee and hit him where it hurt the most.
The unanticipated move made him hiss, cuss me out, and eventually drop the weapon. With all the strength I had in my body, I pushed him off of me and rose to my feet in a swift motion.
“You little—” His loud, angry voice followed behind me as I ran down the stairs. The laughter I allowed to slip out was uncontrollable. Deviant thoughts filled my mind, making me feel giddy on the inside. A truly wicked sense overcame me as I entered the kitchen.
A few of the cabinets were empty, so they were a perfect hiding spot. I grabbed the first gun I found, checked for bullets, took the safety off, and spun around. With a steady aim, I waited for him to grace me with his presence yet again.
I was smiling ear to ear for reasons unknown to me.
“That was dumb of you,” he said. The anger on his tongue brought shivers to my body. “Not only did it hurt, but it also pissed me off very much.”
Just like me, he now had a gun on him, though it rested by his side, safely tucked in his hand. The expression I hated the most had returned: stoic, as cold as ice. His face was hard for me to read as it was, even worse when he hid his emotions intentionally.
“I’m sorry about that,” I responded, not feeling an ounce of guilt or regret. “But it wouldn’t be fun if you just caught me so easily.”
“Nothing is ever easy with you, Kaya.”
I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I hadn’t realized it before, but the nickname he’d given me had become like a new name. From an early age, Kaya was something I despised, yet everyone called me that.
Then, Davorin strolled in with the whole “little lion” bullshit, and I got attached.
