vyn prompt 11
“You’re exceedingly lucky that I know how to hold my temper.”
You scoff, leaning back against the sofa as you set the book in your hand aside. You weren’t aware you came down to the headquarters to look for a fight, but Vyn has clearly decided he’ll stage it anyways.
“I told you not to go to the bar by yourself.”
“Your hesitance would have cost us valuable information. I went there to find out just who our suspect has been meeting on a weekly basis, and missing last night’s meeting would force us to wait another seven days. That’s enough time for another incident to happen, and we can’t afford such carelessness.”
Vyn’s expression is dark. He stands before you, a tall looming figure, and you stare back at him with defiance in your gaze. You knew the risks; you weighed the pros and cons; you made an informed decision to rush to the bar and you won the gamble.
“You are lucky,” he repeats in an icy voice, “that I am a patient man.”
His knee comes between yours, sinking into the sofa; one hand is pressed to the back of the sofa, right next to your face as he leans down, dwarfing you with his frame. He’s close enough that you can see the shadow in his eyes, dulling the gold flecks in his pupils. His lips are flattened into a tight line.
“They could have killed you,” he says lightly. “And then where would you be? Dead in a ditch for me to find.”
You’re tempted to say something snarky in reply, something to test his limits even further, just like you would have months ago until the both of you fall into a cold war that lasts weeks and makes everyone else at NXX tread carefully around you two. You almost want to rip into him, say something mean, say something awful and watch his eyes shutter.
But you can hear it in his voice. The faint tremble in his voice when he said you would be dead in a ditch—you know Vyn well enough now to catch that minute change.
“I hate you,” you say, and only a trickle of bite seeps through your voice.
“You should practice in the mirror,” Vyn tells you, a thin smile on his lips. “You almost sounded like you meant it, for a moment. Then it fell apart like a fragile house of cards.”
You narrow your eyes. “I don’t see you doing much better.”
“Oh, I don’t fight battles I can’t win,” he says mildly. “If I lied, you wouldn’t even know it’s a lie.”
The laugh falls from your mouth before you can hold it back. “Well, go on. Give it a go.”
He leans in even further, shortening the distance between you two. His lips brush against the curve of your ear and you fight down the urge to shudder.
“I hate you,” Vyn murmurs, and you both know it sounds like a lie.
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