Before I could dwell too much on it, Zarek's hand gently tugged at mine, pulling me towards the kitchen. "Come on," he said, his voice softer now, trying to bring some levity back. "Let's get you warmed up with that hot chocolate. I promise, it's going to be the best you've ever had." He gave me a reassuring smile, his eyes searching mine, as if to make sure I was okay.
The warmth of his hand was comforting, and I let myself be led away.
Chapter21
Thalia’s POV
The morning sun filtered weakly through the window, painting soft, pale streaks across the hardwood floor. Dust motes danced in the golden rays, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. I stretched, my muscles aching from the tension of the night before, a dull throb resonating deep in my bones. Nox had been adamant about me staying in his room while he was out, his usual quiet demeanor replaced by a protectiveness that bordered on possessive. I couldn't understand why the sudden shift with him—his possessiveness was unsettling—but I guess it was better than the alternative of him ignoring me altogether. A strange warmth bloomed in my chest at the thought.What was happening to me?This strange place, these strange men... they were stirring something within me, something I refused to acknowledge right now.
The faint scent of cedar and rain still clung to the air, a subtle reminder of his presence, and I found myself drawing a deep, steadying breath, trying to absorb the lingering calm.
Today was the day—training with Damon. My stomach twisted into a tight knot as nerves crawled through me, a tangled mess of dread and a strange, fluttering anticipation. Damon didn’t exactly hide his disdain for me. His icy glares and cutting remarks were a constant reminder of his disapproval. To him, I was a liability at best, a threat at worst—a fragile girl stumbling through a world she didn't understand. He’d made it crystal clear, in his usual blunt and unforgiving way, that I had to prove myself. Not just to survive here in this dangerous world, but to show that I wasn’t some weak link in whatever looming battle was coming. He didn’t see me as an equal, not even close, let alone someone worthy of trust. In his eyes, I was just another potential enemy, a burden that could get his brothers killed.
As I dressed, pulling on a simple training outfit from Combat Training, and descended the creaking stairs, the house embraced a hushed stillness—a quiet sanctuary in the early morning light. The silence was broken only by the faint, melodic humming of Zarek from the kitchen, a soft, almost whimsical tune that eased some of the tension coiling in my gut. The comforting aroma of fresh coffee, rich and inviting, greeted me as I lingered in the doorway, hesitant to break the peaceful spell.
Zarek turned, his amber eyes lighting up as he caught sight of me, a warm smile spreading across his face. His dark hair, usually styled with meticulous care, was slightly disheveled, giving him a boyish charm. “Morning, Firefly,” he greeted, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He nodded to the steaming mug on the counter, a swirl of cream disappearing into the dark liquid. “Thought you could use some caffeine before you face the demon.”
Despite the tight knot of anxiety still twisting in my stomach, I let out a breathy laugh, the sound a little shaky. "Thanks, I think I'm going to need it." I muttered, grabbing the cup. The warmth of it seeped into my hands, a comforting weight that grounded me just enough to calm the jittery edge of my nerves.
Zarek leaned against the counter, his gaze soft but teasing, a playful glint in his eyes. “You’ll be fine. Damon’s all bark.” He paused, a mischievous flicker crossing his features. “Mostly.”
I raised an eyebrow, taking a cautious sip of the hot coffee. The rich flavor spread across my tongue, a welcome distraction from the nagging worry. “You sure about that?” I asked, my voice laced with skepticism.
Zarek’s grin widened, his wink more playful than reassuring. “Well… no. But I’ll step in if he goes too hard. Wouldn't want him to actually break our little Firefly, now would we?”
I smiled, a small, hesitant curve of my lips, though the nervousness still lingered—a persistent hum beneath the surface. I wasn't sure if I believed him, not entirely, but I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. We both knew I wasn’t banking on any rescue, not really. I had to prove I could handle myself, that I wasn’t just a delicate flower waiting to be protected.
After finishing my coffee, savoring the last warming sip, I made my way to the back of the house, stepping out into the crisp morning air. The cool breeze, tinged with the scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers, bit against my skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the house. Damon was already there, his tall, rigid figure cutting an imposing silhouette against the early dawn sky, the rising sun painting the edges of the trees with a soft, golden light. He stood still, staring out at the horizon, his hands clasped behind him, his broad shoulders tense beneath his dark shirt. Even without looking directly at him, I could feel the waves of energy rippling off him—controlled, lethal power that seemed to vibrate in the space between us, a force that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
As I approached, my footsteps crunching softly on the grass, Damon turned slowly, his dark blue eyes locking onto mine with a cold intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. His expression was unreadable—a carefully constructed mask that hid any hint of emotion, save for the thin, hard line of his mouth. His gaze raked over me, assessing, judging, and I felt the weight of it, like he was calculating my worth—orlack thereof. It was a familiar feeling, one that I’d come to expect from him, but it still stung, a small, sharp prick of resentment.
“You’re late,” he said, his tone clipped, cutting through the silence like a sharpened blade. His voice, deep and resonant, held a hint of something dangerous, a simmering anger that seemed to crackle in the air.
I frowned, glancing at the sky. The sun had barely risen above the trees, its golden rays just beginning to pierce through the morning mist. “It’s barely sunrise. I didn’t realize we had a set time.” My voice, though quiet, held a note of sass. I wouldn’t let him intimidate me—not this time.
Damon stepped forward, closing the distance between us, his presence towering over me, suffocating in its sheer force. The smoky, bergamot scent of him intensified, swirling around me, making my head spin slightly. "When I say early, I mean early. You should be ready before I even ask.” His voice was hard, uncompromising. “If you want to be part of this, you need to be better than everyone else. No excuses.” He paused, his eyes boring into mine, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. “Especially not from you.”
His words stung, not because they were unfair, not entirely—but because they mirrored the doubt already festering inside me. The nagging fear that I wasn't strong enough, that I didn't belong here. I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see how deeply his judgment cut, how much his words resonated with the insecurities that haunted me. “I am ready,” I replied, my voice steady, forcing myself to meet his gaze without flinching.
Damon’s lips curled into a slow, cruel smirk, a flash of white teeth against the dark backdrop of his stubble. “We’ll see about that.”
He took a step back, his eyes never leaving mine, the air between us heavy, a silent battle of wills. “No magic, no abilities—just hand-to-hand combat. Let’s see if you can survive without your little tricks.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my pulse quickening, and nodded, a single, sharp movement. "Fine. Let’s get this over with." I tried to sound confident, but my voice trembled slightly, betraying my nerves.
Damon dropped into a fighting stance, his body loose yet coiled, every movement fluid but deliberate—like a predator preparing to strike. His eyes were sharp, focused, watching me like a hawk waiting for its prey to make a mistake. “This isn’t just about strength, Thalia,” he said, his voice low, almost dangerous, a quiet rumble. “It’s about control. Lose control, and you lose everything.”
I took a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling my lungs, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. There was something in the way he said it—something that felt personal, like he was warning me not just about the fight, but about something deeper, something more profound. My skin prickled under the weight of his gaze, a strange mix of anger and something I couldn’t quite name flaring inside me—a confusing cocktail of emotions that made my head spin. It wasn't just fear, not anymore. It was something else, something… electric.
I squared my shoulders, jaw set, trying to push down the flutter of anxiety in my chest. The way his eyes seemed to look right through me—stripping away my defenses—made my heart pound against my ribs like a trapped bird. He was testing me, probing for my weaknesses, trying to find the cracks in my armor, and I was determined not to give him the satisfaction. I wouldn't let him see how much he affected me.
He lunged first, his movements quick and calculated, a blur of motion that was almost too fast to follow. I barely had time to react, stepping to the side, my heart leaping into my throat as his fist sliced through the air where I had just been, the force of it displacing the air around me. I countered with a jab of my own, aiming for his ribs, but he blocked it effortlessly, his smirk growing as he pushed me back—his hand like iron against my arm.
"You’re slow," he taunted, his voice laced with disdain, a cruel edge that grated on my nerves. "You’ll never survive if you can’t even handlethis.”
Frustration boiled inside me, a red-hot surge of anger that made my fists clench, my knuckles turning white. He was baiting me—deliberately trying to make me slip, to lose control—and I hated that it was working. I could feel the heat building in my chest, my emotions rising like a tide, threatening to drown me in their intensity. I swung again, harder this time, putting all my strength behind the blow, but Damon dodged with ease, his movements as fluid as water, as if he were anticipating my every move. He was toying with me, and the realization only fueled my anger.
Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist, his fingers closing around it like a vise, twisting it just enough to throw me off balance. I stumbled, my foot catching on a loose stone, barely catching myself before I fell, and the embarrassment burned hotter than the pain in my arm, a flush creeping up my neck.
