Riven
The urge to lift my hand to touch the scar at my throat was overwhelming but I forced it down and also tried to keep my rising temper in check.
If I don't know otherwise, I'd think I'd just walked into Silas' domain because it was filled with that decaying and cloying scent of his.
"Who let you in here?" I growled, my eyes changing from their chocolate brown color to gold as I felt my wolf that laid dormant just under my skin slowly sizzling to life.
Silas met my anger with a look of mild amusement. He rose from the bed in one fluid motion, legs sliding to the floor, as if my rage was nothing more than entertainment to him. Another growl rumbled deep in my chest and before I knew it, I was marching into the room, my blood boiling with anger and the voices in my head demanding I kill him.
Silas remained calm and unfazed as he watched me move towards him but just as I was five feet away from reaching him, his lips curled up and I caught a glimpse of his sharp elongated fangs before he lunged at me with frightening speed.
This time, I was ready. As his hand shot out, aiming for my neck like he did that night, I duck to the side and lifted one leg to kick him in the shin. Without letting him recover, I aimed a quick blow to his neck but he moved at the last minute, my hand did not even brush him.
My anger spiked, burning hot as we began to exchange blows. Moving from my part of the room to the other. The sounds of my animalistic growls and grunts filled the room.
Silas moved like water, calm and steady. Every time I thought I had him, he slipped free, just a small shift and my strike met only air. My foot smashed a low table to splinters. A lamp toppled and burst, oil spreading like dark blood. Curtains fell in a heap as I yanked at them, and a chair splintered under my boot.
He laughed once, the sounds soft and close, but the sound pushed my rage higher. I spun and swung a fist at his head. He leaned back and the blow crashed into the cracked mirror behind him, sending a web of glass across the floor. Shards bit into my flesh. I felt the sting on my knuckles. Blinded by hate and rage, I kept going.
Silas grabbed the fallen curtain, wrapped it quickly around my wrist and yanked. The knife I was holding flew from my hand and skittered across the room.
He pressed his palms flat against my chest, and shoved. The force knocked me into the ruined bed; the frame cracked, wood snapping under me.
I hit the floor hard, breath knocked out. He stood above me, calm as a king. Around us, the room lay shredded—torn tapestries, upturned chairs, a shattered inkpot staining the sheets. My hands were shaking, not just from pain but from the ugly truth—I had done all the breaking, and he had barely moved. I was breathing like I've just ran a marathon while he stood there with his hands behind his back, like he'd been a spectator all along.
This thought only served to provoke me. I jumped to my fight and threw a punch. I wanted to ruin that calm face. Wipe off that calm expression. I wanted him to be as rattled as I am.
I could hear voices screaming in the distance. Soon, the shouting grew louder—yells and the heavy thud of boots. I heard feet pounding the corridor, closer and closer. The door burst open and Kael charged in, eyes wide before moving in to pull me away.
Silas barely spares him a glance but in one clean, effortless motion he reached out and slapped Kael aside. Kael flew against the wall with a sick crack, sliding down to the floor. Dust and plaster fell where he hit. He let out a sound that should have been a shout, but it choked into a hiss as he hit the ground.
Seeing Kael struck broke something inside me. A rage bigger than the fight with Silas pulled tight and I roared. I lunged forward full force, hands mad for blood. I would end him now. I would tear his heart out and spit it at my father's feet. The treaty, the Council, the Academy—all of them be damned.
I slammed into Silas and drove him back until his shoulders hit the wall. My hands closed around his throat, fingers digging in. He did not flinch. His face was shockingly calm, his red eyes calmly watching me. I felt the hot beat of his pulse under my grip. My vision narrowed to the rise and fall of his chest, the threat of his sharp fangs. The furious pounding of my own blood drowned everything out.
Shouts filled the room as soldiers poured in. Men in dark livery, faces hard and weapons at ready . They moved quickly and in unison like they've dealt with this a thousand times. One threw a net over my shoulders; another rammed a staff into my flank. Hands grabbed my arms and wrenched me back. I dug my feet in and kicked out, but the ropes came quickly, thick leather binding wrist to wrist, ankle to ankle.
I shouted and struggled, claws scrabbling at rope and cloth. The soldiers did not hesitate. They forced me down until I lay on the ruined floor, breath burning, chest heaving, shoulders aching. Silas stood free a few paces away, untouched and composed, watching me as if the scene were merely interesting theatre.
Kael crawled forward on bloody palms, eyes full of apology and fear. He called my name asking me to take a deep breath and calm down. The soldiers tightened the bindings and the room spun with heat, smoke, and the taste of my own blood on my tongue.