Bound by Lust

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the grand dining room, casting soft golden beams across the pristine table. The room was quiet, save for the clinking of fine china and the soft rustle of the morning breeze. Esme sat at one end of the long, elegant table, her back straight, eyes fixed on the plate before her, though she wasn't eating. Her coffee sat untouched, the steam rising from the cup as if it, too, had been abandoned.

Kael was seated at the opposite end, as usual, dressed impeccably. The sharp lines of his suit seemed to add to his cold demeanor, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room. He reached for the newspaper, skimming the headlines, but Esme's silence filled the space between them, thick and suffocating.

She wasn't sure why she was doing this, why she had decided to test him in this way. Maybe it was the way Sophia had looked at Kael, or the way he had barely acknowledged her pain. Maybe it was the constant ache she had been trying to ignore—the ache that had been growing inside her ever since she'd allowed herself to care.

But today, she decided to play a different game.

Esme kept her focus on her plate, pushing the food around absently. She didn't look at Kael. Didn't speak. Didn't offer any pleasantries, though it had become second nature for her to do so when they were alone.

She wanted to see how far she could push him. Wanted to see if he would notice the shift, if he would care.

The minutes ticked by in silence, the tension thick in the air. She could feel Kael's gaze flicker in her direction every now and then, but he never spoke. It was almost as if he were waiting for her to say something, to break the silence.

But Esme didn't.

She took another sip of her coffee, not sparing him a glance, the bitterness of it matching the bitterness in her chest. She felt his eyes on her, intense and unwavering, but she didn't allow herself to react.

She wouldn't.

And yet, when she reached for the butter to spread on her toast, she noticed the way his fingers tightened on the edge of his newspaper. The subtle tension in his jaw. It was the smallest thing—hardly noticeable—but it was there. Something had shifted in him.

She couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction, even as the knot in her stomach grew.

Minutes passed. Her plate was still mostly untouched.

Kael finally set down his newspaper, the sound of it closing filling the silence. He didn't speak for a moment, just leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on her.

"What's with you this morning?" he asked, his voice clipped, low.

Esme didn't answer. Instead, she reached for her napkin, folding it neatly in her lap, as if his question didn't matter. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of an answer—not yet.

Kael's gaze hardened, a flicker of something dark crossing his features. He leaned forward, his tone more demanding this time. "Esme. Why are you acting like this?"

Her eyes met his briefly, and she felt the weight of his anger, though he was still holding it back. She swallowed, forcing herself to look away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice flat.

She felt his frustration building, his hands gripping the edge of the table. She knew he was struggling with this, struggling with her distance, and she couldn't help but enjoy the small victory it brought her.

But inside, her chest felt tight. She hated this game she was playing. Hated how it made her feel, how it made her question everything.

Kael's chair scraped against the floor as he stood up suddenly, his sharp movements causing Esme to look up at him. He was towering over her now, his dark eyes blazing with something she couldn't quite place.

"What is this, Esme?" he said, his voice a low growl. "You've never been this cold. What the hell is going on?"

Esme remained silent, the knot in her stomach tightening even more. She wanted to say something—anything—to end this silence. But she didn't.

Kael let out a frustrated breath, pacing back and forth in front of her. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight with barely-contained anger.

"I'm not playing this game with you," he muttered. "You're not going to pull away from me like this. I won't stand for it."

Esme's heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to tell him she wasn't doing it to hurt him, that she wasn't trying to play games. But the words didn't come. Instead, she watched as Kael's anger simmered, the coldness in his eyes growing more pronounced with each passing second.

His gaze locked onto hers, intense and demanding. "You've been avoiding me all morning, not even looking at me. What's changed, Esme? Why are you acting like this?"

Esme took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. She could feel the pull of his stare, the weight of his presence. But she refused to give in. Not yet.

"I'm not avoiding you," she said quietly, her voice cold, though her heart was racing. "I just don't feel like talking."

Kael's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.

"You think this is some sort of test?" His voice was low, dangerously so. "You think I'll just give in to whatever this is you're doing?"

Esme's heart skipped a beat, her breath hitching. She could feel the intensity between them, the crackling energy that only seemed to increase the closer Kael got.

"I don't care what you do, Kael," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I just want some space."

Kael's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile, though his eyes remained cold. "Space?" he repeated. "You think you can push me away like this and I won't care?"

Esme didn't answer. She wasn't sure if she even could. The silence stretched between them, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

Kael's next words came out in a low growl. "You'll have your space, Esme. But I'm not letting you keep me at arm's length for long."

He turned abruptly, striding toward the door, leaving Esme staring after him, her heart pounding in her chest.

For the first time, she wasn't sure if she had pushed him too far—or if this was just the beginning of something far more complicated.

****. ****. ****.