Upon opening the door, she stepped inside and her eyes narrowed as she looked around; she could hardly see anything.
The room was dark, of course, suited for his taste; it was just like him, in her opinion.
But it was not empty.
A fire smoldered low in the hearth, casting golden light across sleek black furniture. Bookshelves lined the walls, real ones, with worn spines and marked pages. A half-filled glass of whiskey sat untouched on the desk. Papers were scattered like someone had been interrupted mid-thought.
And the scent—clean, cold, expensive, and spicy with a hint of musk and vanilla—filled the air around her, almost making her dizzy.
Exactly like him, exactly the way he smelled.
She stepped inside cautiously. One foot, then the next, she was careful not to touch or knock over anything while she was at it.
It was not just a man's room. It was similar to him: dark, functional and somewhat controlled.
But it was also lived in.
That unnerved her more, since she did not think that he would actually stay at the estate with her; she thought he would have left. The fact that they could fight each other to death would have been enough, yet...
She ran her fingers along the edge of the desk, brushing over something sharp.
A photograph.
Old. Some parts of it were torn, vibrant colours, but they could not be seen clearly.
She picked it up with a small frown forming on her face as she wondered who it was.
It was a woman. Familiar. Almost…
Her.
No. Not exactly. But similar features. Similar eyes.
She flipped it over. A name was scratched faintly on the back.
"To M.D., from your only sin."
Her blood ran cold.
A floorboard creaked behind her.
She turned sharply.
Darian stood in the doorway.
Half in shadow, shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at danger. His eyes did not look surprised. Just tired. Like he had been waiting for her to cross this line.
"So," he said softly. "You just could not resist, could you, my love?"
"Huh? Who are you calling "love," you psycho? I am not your love and do not ever call me that again. I was not looking for you," she snapped, placing the photo down carefully. "I was looking for answers in this stupid estate of yours."
His eyes narrowed as he listened to her explanation carefully; he scoffed and then stepped forward. One slow step at a time.
"You won't find answers in the past," he said, his tone almost dark. "Answers are not what you truly seek, nor will they help you."
"Funny," she said, her voice sharp. "Because everything about you screams danger, like you have truly become a monster from the last time I saw you and that was years ago, Darian."
He stopped just inches away from her, looking down at her with his eyes narrowed. She was shorter than him, while he was an entire 6'4.
"The past is in the past. Maybe I have gotten worse from the enemy you once knew, but the past stays there; it will not change a thing about what is going to happen," he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for arguments.
She tilted her head, unflinching. "You dragged me to your house, caged me like a possession, and left creepy notes and keys for me like I'm part of a game, and now you want to talk boundaries? Why do you think you get to demand anything from me you crazy bastard?"
Darian's jaw clenched at her words and his eyes darkened further. His voice dropped low, almost chilling. "That key was not meant for tonight. This is not a game and if it was, you will be playing according to my rules."
"Then maybe you should keep your secrets where I can't find them. I do not want to be a part of your life. I already lost what I had, and you cannot replace it," she said and his brows furrowed into slits.
They stood there, glaring at each other like a sentinel wolf and a beta, heat crackling in the space between their bodies.
Not lust. Not yet.
But something far more dangerous.
Control. Defiance. Gravity.
She smiled sweetly as she looked at him. "Goodnight, fiancé."
The word was bitter coming from her lips and his gaze snapped towards her, his hand reaching up to grab her by the neck before she could think about walking away and he yanked her back against him.
She gasped as her back collided against his solid front, and her eyes widened as she glanced back into his dark eyes that were staring down at her, like a predator stalking its prey.
She could have sworn she felt a shiver run down her spine, yet despite the fear, she swallowed and kept her gaze steady, fixed on him and his eyes narrowed.
He leaned down, his lip brushing against her ear. "I am being patient; do not test me and push me too far. I am not the same as when you knew me back then, my little enemy. If I snap, you will not like it; a gazelle should not taint a tiger."
Her eyes widened as he nipped her ear and her entire body tensed up as she glared at him and yanked away from his grasp. Something deep within her felt wrong yet familiar and his eyes narrowed as he stared at her.
"Cat got your tongue?" He asked, but she did not answer him; she just bolted out of his room, and a smirk formed on his lips as he leaned back against his desk, his eyes glimmering with something unrecognizable as he glanced at the photo she had picked up earlier.
"My little one, this is just the beginning of the game the devils would play," he muttered before going to bed, while she went to her room and locked the door behind her.
She leaned against it with her eyes wide and her breathing slightly ragged. Something felt off about him, weird. It was not him she used to know. This was mixed with something else she could not quite put her finger on and it was unsettling.