21. Selfish Me

Laura - Paul’s villa
My knees quiver as his hands grab my face and compel me to gaze at him. Suddenly, I feel weaker and more vulnerable than when I feared I would be imprisoned indefinitely by the strigois.
“Now tell me. What do you have to say in your defense?”
I'm trying to find the words to answer him, but they don't come easily. I can't deny it. An omission is also a lie. And I lied to him.
His warm hands soothe me while his gaze and voice send a wave of fear through my body. Do I fear what he can do to me or what he’ll refuse me?
I can't take my eyes off him, especially now when he's just an inch away. From his eyebrows to his jawline, all his facial features are perfect. I can stare at this handsome face all day and never get tired.
He lifts an eyebrow, waiting for my answer. "Well?" The sound of Paul's voice draws me back to reality.
Paul is simply staring at me now. His fingers are still on my face. I feel different as if I'm melting into his touch. I don’t want this moment to end, but I force out my reply.
"Those wolves bit me and went crazy. That’s the truth. Why and how that happened, I do not know. But I never meant to kill them."
Paul releases me from his grasp and turns his back to me. I sigh, though I don’t know if it’s because I feel relieved or sad that I’m out of his spiteful gaze and rough grip.
“For this to work, you’ll have to live with me inside this villa,” he says, stuffing his hands deep inside his pockets. “No one would believe us otherwise.”
Am I really going to live with him in this house? Is he going to keep me locked up like some kind of prisoner? I push aside these questions because something more important urges me to speak. But I’m not sure how to say this. What I want from him, what I need, is all mixed up in my mind. Maybe now isn’t the time for questions, but I can't wait. I can no longer stand not knowing.
“You’re sure? When you claimed me, did you mean it? Do you really want me?”
"I don't want you or anything to do with you," Paul declares, shattering the idea I've created in my mind that we're more than just a wolf and a strigoi. Everything I feel between us has to be just a figment of my imagination.
The silence between us is deafening. My thoughts stray.
The endless search for love has dragged down the one person I've admired, my sire, and forced my eyes open to reality. No, love is far too overrated in the real world. There's no place for it in my life.
Also, hearing the other's thoughts takes all the magic out of love. That's why I've restricted any romantic pursuits to the formatted, black-and-white pages of books. There's one universal truth I'll never question: fictional men are a gazillion times better than real ones.
The real problem is that Paul definitely resembles a main character. Well, when he snarls and looks at me like this, more like the main antagonist, that would suit him better. Even if he sometimes seems like a nice guy, I'll certainly not make him my hero.
Ugh! Fictional characters are much less complex. Even the villains generally win my compassion in some way. Maybe I like the baddies because I'm meant to be a villain as well, being undead and all.
“If you don't want me, I won't stay here. You don't have to pretend to care about me. I don't want to be your prisoner."
Paul turns around, his eyes piercing my soul. I feel the heat radiating from his body as he comes again near me, and instinctively I take a step backward.
"You’ll stay here, or I’ll call Ion Corvin to come and pick you up." He snarls, his black hair spiked up by his very anger. "The plague you carry will remain a secret. The wolves mustn’t know, or they’ll riot and take your head."
I'm so angry with myself for beginning to fall for this man that I lash out without any common reason. "Then maybe it's for the best. Maybe they'll be able to provide me with what I'm looking for if they work together."
“You won’t do such a thing!” The veins in his neck stand out as if about to burst.
My fists clench, and I release a breath through my nose. I can't let him get to me. Not now. I disconnect completely from the tension he creates. I think of the big bad wolf not being able to blow the house down and smile. Even though I didn't think this was possible, now his veins bulge even more. I sure hope he marks what's his with a bite, and that his bite is worse than his bark.
“You’ll obey me as your Alpha!”
He doesn't frighten me. Rather, his rage fuels mine. I'm sick of all the lies and deceptions.
"I’m not a wolf, and I have no Alpha! You don’t own me as if I were an object. And most certainly, I’m not your mate! All I need is for you to kill me! You’re the Dacian Draco, the Dragon, as the supernatural world calls you. The prophecy of the most powerful gypsy witch says only you can do it. I see it in your eyes that you want to do it." I take one step closer to him. "What are you waiting for, wolf?"
His nostrils flare as his rage grows. “What if I'm not the one you seek? What if I go rabid after I bite you? You don't care about anyone except yourself and your precious death!”
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out this time. He's right. I didn't think of that. The thought of hurting him slashes my heart. Until this moment, I didn’t realize how selfish I am. I reach out with my hand to touch him. The need to feel his warmth again compels me. He slaps my hand and storms out the door, his face a mix of anger and disappointment.