Nyx didn't feel insulted; she felt a spark of something she hadn't felt in years: curiosity. He had bypassed her beauty and her status to find the one thing she hadn't perfectly curated.
"Chaos can be a powerful tool, Linghe," she said, stepping into his personal space. She was short compared to him, but the power she radiated forced the air out of the gap between them. "It draws the eye to exactly where I want it. You spent ten seconds looking at my ankle, which means you weren't looking at the hand I currently have hovering near your drink."
Linghe looked down. Her slender fingers were an inch away from his glass.
"Are you planning to poison me, Doctor?" he asked, his eyes flashing with a mix of amusement and danger. He knew exactly who she was. The prodigy. The "White Widow" of the lab.
"I don't need poison to unarm a man," Nyx tilted her head, a predatory sweetness entering her expression.
"I just need to know what he's obsessed with. And I think I've found yours. You hate things that don't fit your order, don't you? You want to fix me."
Linghe reached out, his hand hovering just shy of her jawline, mirroring her earlier move. The power play had begun. "I don't want to fix you, Nyx. I want to see how far that chaos goes before it breaks you."
"Then you have thirty-four hours left to try," she challenged.