image [https://img.wattpad.com/story_parts/1501735208/images/180fb3f7f21259de968880208432.jpg]
Once inside the holding room, Sylus leans casually against the wall, his long legs neatly crossed. You march toward him, a whirlwind of frustration and purpose, ready to set the record straight.
"The wager is off," you snap at him, your voice sharp as you gesture emphatically. "Forcing someone into a deal where they have everything to lose and nothing to gain? That's bad business, and you know it."
Sylus exhales slowly, a thin vein surfacing on his forehead. "Some might argue that's excellent business," he mutters.
"You're the one who dragged me in this mess to begin with," you accuse, clenching your fists.
He arches a brow at you. "Dragged you? Remind me—was I the one trespassing?"
You bite your lip, choosing to change the subject. "And what was with that cryptic stunt you pulled in the arena? Care to explain who's lurking around here and why it matters that they saw me?"
"Cryptic? You make me sound like the villain, sweetie."
"If the shoe fits," you retort, giving him a pointed once-over.
Sylus sighs as he uncrosses his arms with a lazy motion, his gaze locking on yours. "You disappoint me, kitten. Throwing away your only chance of survival so easily? Shame."
Your eyes narrow. "Survival?" you repeat, "What exactly do you mean by that?"
A low chuckle escapes Sylus, his stance relaxed but his eyes keen, assessing your every movement. "You've painted a rather tempting target on yourself with that little performance in the arena. Congratulations, kitten. Now, with every step you take—whether it's in or out of my manor—there'll be no shortage of gangs waiting to claim what they think is my most valuable asset."
His voice drops to a whisper. "But don't worry. I don't plan to let that happen. You need me now, just like you needed me in the arena. Admit it—you're hopeless without my protection."
Your breath hitches as his words sink in, and you instinctively rub your fingers around the gold initial resting on your necklace. "Are you telling me you knew this would happen? That you threw me into that fight knowing I'd be a target afterward?"
Sylus tilts his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement. "Smart girl. A shame you waste it on being difficult."
"You tricked me!"
"And you trespassed." He reminds you as he pushes off the wall, his tall frame towering over you. "We all have our faults. And if anything, you owe me." He speaks slowly, every syllable condescending.
You ball your fists at your sides, seething at the audacity of this wicked man. I need to play his game, it's the only way to deal with his traps. You take a slow breath and lower your shoulders before speaking. "Well, I demand compensation for my role in your little game." You begin, turning around and pacing the room. "I have an obligation at the Hunter's Association that I can't just leave—"
"Consider it taken care of." He interrupts, suddenly more interested in inspecting his cuticles. His face softens into a look of boredom.
You raise an eyebrow. "And my pay?"
Sylus's gaze flicks back to you. "Tripled, if you prove yourself worthy of it." He pauses, a flicker of amusement curbing his sharp tone. "While you're under my roof, you'll find there's very little you'll have to want for. You only have to ask."
You break eye contact and blink, your face reddening. How can he say those things so effortlessly? It's like he's not even affected by anything I say. Damn psycho.
You straighten, your mind racing with possibilities. This is my chance, I'm still building a case to expose the illegal activity found in this terrible place. I need to be strategic if I want to take him down. You take in a deep breath and continue.
"I also want access to your network of connections, your most impressive weapons, and complete access to all facilities in the manor."
"Easily done." He says very matter-of-factly, circling you. His movement is predatory yet unhurried as if savoring every moment of your discomfort.
You falter, caught off guard by his lack of resistance. "...Well. Good, then." You stammer, suddenly unsure.
Sylus stops in front of you. "Miss M, I'm not unreasonable. You'll find I'm quite generous when properly motivated. We wouldn't want you needlessly kicking and screaming the whole time, now, would we?"
"Oh I can and I will, because the moment you try to pull something over me—-."
Silencing your next words, Sylus closes the distance between you, bending to your level. He brushes away a stray lock of hair from your face with a casual ease that makes you question how many times he's done it before. "As you can see, I am more than capable of providing you with what you want." His fingers linger on your face just long enough for the hairs on your neck to rise, the weight of his presence filling your senses. "So, are these arrangements to your satisfaction, sweetie?" The pet name rolled off his tongue as if it were a slick piece of bait suspended at the end of a hook.
Your chest tightens as a storm of angry butterflies war inside you. "If you want me to keep responding to you, I suggest you stop calling me that," you retort, though there is less edge in your tone than you hoped for. "And yes... they'll do. For now."
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"I think you'll come to respond to that name very soon, actually." Sylus replies with a chuckle, his demeanor suspicious. He straightens, then gestures towards a narrow door at the back of the room.
"Come," He says, stalking towards the door.
With a sigh, you reluctantly follow, unsure what traps lie ahead. He punches in a code on the keypad, which you naturally commit to memory, and the door slides open. The room beyond is a small infirmary, its counters lined with bandages and medical supplies. A medical bed rests in the center of the tight space.
"You don't look like you're in the best shape, kitten [https://img.wattpad.com/70b9a0fcbd2f1dbe3ed76cce68e342d98669fffe/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f53514b695f626d774746394271513d3d2d313530313733353230382e313830666234316235393762613839333234363431363532373133392e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
"You don't look like you're in the best shape, kitten."
"No thanks to you, psycho," you snap.
Sylus sighs, grabbing a brown bottle of antiseptic from the counter. He gestures towards the medical bed. "Sit down."
"I'll manage."
Sylus quirks an eyebrow at you. "Determined to test my patience, are we? I'm only offering to help you out, Miss M." He says, amusement flickering through his composed face. He places the bottle on the bed, alongside a metal tray containing bandages and cotton pads.
"Since I've gotten here, you've done nothing but order me around and call me things I'd prefer not to be called. If you were half a gentleman, you would know that's no way to handle a lady." You hiss at him.
"Hmm. Well, that would require you first to be a lady." He teases, looking you up and down. "And I'm sure you'll find that I have no problem handling you."
You suddenly become aware of the tattered dress clinging to your form, the oil and dirt caked onto your arms, and the ash coating your bare toes. A flush creeps up your neck and face. "Well! Excuse me for fighting for my life a few moments ago. Gods!" You let out a huff. "It doesn't matter—I've already made up my mind. I'm fully capable of doing this by myself- your help is not needed." You fume, lifting your chin.
"Fine." He responds, taking a step closer to you. A mischievous grin spreads across his lips as you glare at him, your arms crossed and your feet firmly planted on the ground—until they aren't. Before you can react, Sylus snakes his arms around your waist, and you're hoisted unceremoniously over his shoulder. A surprise yelp escapes your lips, and you curse your lack of composure.
"What are you—put me down!" you shout, pounding your fist against his back.
Sylus's laughter rumbles underneath you. "I'm starting to like this little game you play with me." He says, his tone entirely too calm for comfort.
You draw in a sharp breath. Notes of spice and wood fill your senses as he effortlessly carries you to the medical bed. His grip on the back of your thigh is powerful yet secure, and you can't help but notice how the muscles in his back tighten under your body. With control, he eases you onto the cushioned bed, his heavy silver necklaces clinking together as he moves. Your rear plops on the surface, and you blink a couple of times.
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He mocks as he begins inspecting your bruised legs.
Jolted, you take a moment to compose yourself. You quickly decide that glaring at him is the best response and flash him a menacing expression, though your burning cheeks hint at a different message.
"You're totally the villain, by the way." You say dryly, your eyes narrowing. Sylus lowers himself to one knee, but even in this position, his height is not much different than yours.
"Am I now?" he murmurs, tilting his head. "Funny. I don't remember villains offering deals quite as generous as mine." His eyes glint with a playful spark as he uncaps the antiseptic, pouring it onto the cotton pad.
The sharp tang of alcohol cuts through the air, momentarily guiding your thoughts elsewhere—to the sterile hospital rooms at Akso Hospital and the exasperated lectures from Dr. Zayne about taking better care of yourself. Though you've known each other since childhood, Zayne has become quite protective of you lately—especially after your grandmother passed away. If he knew about the situation you were in now, you'd never hear the end of it. You can already imagine his reaction if he knew where you were. You flinch at the thought of his chastising: "What were you thinking?" Yet, the reminder of his protectiveness warms your chest.
You flinch at the thought of his chastising: "What were you thinking?" Yet, the reminder of his protectiveness warms your chest [https://img.wattpad.com/c658ef269d3bdff59bbb09e704fe63ba00c7cbc5/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f466d435a5a664f616578352d7a673d3d2d313530313733353230382e313830666630323132653835343766323731333935373333383137332e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Your attention is yanked back to Sylus as a burning sensation from the alcohol stings your legs.
"Ow!" You gasp, jerking away instinctively. "Could you not?"
Sylus cocks an eyebrow, showing more amusement than remorse. "Would you prefer I let an infection take over?" He threatens, squeezing your leg.
"You can't fool me, villain. You even have blood-red eyes," you counter, pursing your lips.
"The better to see you with," he taunts through a toothy grin, plucking a bandage from the silver tray.
"They're villain eyes. Next thing you'll tell me is you're misunderstood."
"Depends—do you misunderstand your own lack of gratitude?"
You scoff, choosing to ignore his remark. "Oh, and another thing—you smile when I insult you. Like some kind of masochist."
His laugh is a low rumble that somehow sets your nerves on fire. "Or maybe I just enjoy how flustered you get when you're mad, kitten."
"That's even worse." You shoot back.
"Well, let me ask you this: would the villain be this tender when treating your wounds?" He lets the question hang in the air as his hand slides down your calf, steady and deliberate, lifting your foot and resting it against his thigh.
You jerk back, your pulse quickening despite yourself.
"You flinch again, and I might lose my grip. It'd be a pity to leave scars on these pretty legs of yours," he scolds, his voice soft yet unyielding. His face relaxes as he focuses, his hands skillfully dressing the scratches with unexpected gentleness. The contrast between his sharp tongue and delicate touch leaves you unbalanced, unsure whether to pull away or...or what?
Your fingers twitch at your sides as you watch him work, the fleeting warmth of his touch an unwelcome comfort you can't quite wrap your head around. "You don't make any sense," you mutter under your breath.
Sylus nods without taking his eyes off his handiwork. "Just as a villain should be."
You hold back a laugh and settle for rolling your eyes. Sylus responds with a quick tap to your legs before rising to his full height.
"It's time for you to retire," he announces, dusting off his pants. "I've had a room prepared for you—you'll need your rest, as you have a big day to prepare for." He explains.
"Big day?" you repeat, sitting up straight. "What do you mean?" You give your tired limbs a good stretch before hopping off the table. Your feet throb in protest, and you wish you had some shoes right about now.
Sylus looks down at you, his villainous eyes crackling with mischief. His gaze smolders with dark intensity, sending a shiver down your spine. "You'll need to be on your absolute best behavior, sweetie," he murmurs, his voice edged with a smitten lilt. "Playing the part of my fiancée isn't for the faint of heart."