NOLANâ:
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Fans offer a distant white noise in the gym, attempting to ward off the humidity that settles in the air. Stale and suffocating. Loud collisions of the weights thrown to the room, sharp strikes of lighting in this brewing storm. Nolan takes his own steps closer to Maggie, until theyâre stood square before one another. Where the woman before him was awash with confidence, with arrogance. The human that stood before her, stands with a force of fearlessness that only comes from those willing to paddle out in the middle of the storm until the waves wash over them. Consume them. Until thereâs no difference. Crashing waves, electric skies. Beating rain. Man and ocean. Ocean and storm.Â
But he doesnât stop there, reaching out he grabs the woman by the wrist. Calloused fingers sinking into her porcelain skin. Gripping tight, promising not to let go. âWhat, are you afraid I might do more than bark at you?â
His own words like a deep rumble of thunder, carrying through the night like a distant warning. Every ounce of reason says he should be afraid of the woman before him, that a human like himself shouldnât dare bite at a vampire. But Nolan had never been one for reason. And heâd played the same game as supernaturals as long as he could remember. Fear wasnât something he knew. But a growing cataclysm coursing deep inside him, that was.
âYou like to play this game, pretend you have any control over anything in your life. Why are you so afraid to lose it?â
x.
The incessant noise of the gym faded away to nothing, the deep thrum of his words lost in the void, her eyes fixed on his vice like grip around her wrist as she drifted off in that storm, dragging her under. His voice couldnât break through the water that rushed around her, sweeping her up into its current. She was at the mercy of the storm before her as some insane part of her urged her wrist closer to his mouth and the offered promise of death. Maggie would be lying if she said she didnât at least consider it. The bittersweet taste of death held in his jaws, her blood staining his lips, spread in a wicked grin of triumph. Their constant push and pull finally claiming itâs victor as her porcelain skin cracked beneath his touch.
Her clenched jaw threatening to shatter her teeth, everything about her breaking apart at the seams. âNolan.â A warning. A promise that should he proceed down this path she couldnât be held responsible for any retaliation. Despite everything, she was not ready to die yet. And to die at his touch would shatter what was left of her heart.Â
A scowl formed across her brows as her eyes narrowed âI am in control.â Control was the one thing she prided herself on above all else. After turning, it had taken her 300 years of mistakes and bloodlust to gain any modicum of control. âMore so than you. All it takes is a little push and you are ready to fight. I donât need to lose my control to feel something.â With the sharp hiss of her final words, she placed a hand against his chest, a tender touch to anyone that would have been brave enough to look were they not alone, before shoving him back against the nearest piece of equipment, following him closely her wrist still encased in his hand. âDo not threaten me with your bite. It cannot be undone!â











