The Kiss That Is Prohibited

The pressure of Damian's words against my flesh was still there. Lyra, we have discovered the truth.

What truth, though?

My dad was running. That much was obvious. However, why? What had caused him to feel the need to vanish?

Although Damian's face was unreadable, his tense jaw spoke volumes. Liam waited for orders in the doorway, looking from one of us to the other.

"What would you like to do?" Liam said in a quiet voice.

Damian took a while to respond. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers drummed against his chair's armrest. Then he said, "Find him," without glancing at me. I want to know who assisted him and exactly where he is headed.

His tone was so definitive that it chilled me to the bone. He was going to make sure my father didn't get away, not just follow him about.

I took a step forward. "Wait, Damian."

His piercing, unfathomable eyes locked with mine. "Lyra, do you have anything to say?"

I took a deep breath. "What occurs if you locate him?"

He didn't flinch. "It depends on what he's trying to escape."

I detested how his words made me shudder once more. My father was currently the focus of Damian, a man who operated according to his laws.

"Please," I murmured in a quieter tone. "Don't hurt him, please."

Something flickered across his face, but before I could identify it, it was gone. He faced Liam once more. "Go."

We were left in deep stillness as Liam nodded and walked away down the corridor.

My hands balled into fists as I tried to stabilize myself by exhaling. Damian was acting as if he had the authority to make judgments on my life and my father's life. As if I were merely a piece in his scheme.

I said in a forceful voice, "I won't let you control everything."

He studied me, leaning back. "You believe you have an option?"

I moved in closer. "He is my dad."

His face grew stern. "You are also my wife."

I took a deep breath. "By coercion."

At that moment, Damian stood, instantly enclosing the gap between us. Even though my heart raced, I wasn't going to give up.

"You believe I like this?" He spoke quietly, yet there was a rawness to his voice. "You believe I intended to lead you in this direction?"

My body betrayed me, and I swallowed as a powerful fire surged through my chest. "So why did you?"

He clenched his jaw but remained silent. Rather, his hand raised, his fingers grazing my cheek. It wasn't difficult. It wasn't chilly.

It was supple.

I gasped.

"Lyra, I never intended to cause you any harm." As his fingers traced the contour of my jaw and moved down my cheek, his voice was barely audible.

I didn't believe him, yet my heart pounded against my ribs. "Everything you do contradicts what you say."

His hand just slightly tightened. "Because the luxury of softness is not available to me."

I detested the way my body responded to him, the way his touch made my veins burn. I ought to have retreated. I ought to have turned around and gone.

However, I didn't.

Rather, I raised my chin and looked him in the eye. "So perhaps you're more like your dad than you'd like to acknowledge."

I hardly had time to consider it because it happened so quickly.

A sudden gasp for air. Something sinister flashed in his eyes. Then—

His mouth slammed into mine.

It wasn't kind. It wasn't sweet. We were both unable to identify it, but it was fire—raw and unadulterated—filled with rage and frustration.

He capitalized on my gasp against his lips by intensifying the kiss and drawing me in closer while his hand tangled in my hair. Inside of me, heat sprang forth, engulfing every square inch of my flesh like a wildfire.

I detested him.

But my goodness, I desired him.

In an attempt to orient myself and make sense of the maelstrom he was drawing me into, I rubbed against him and curled my fingers into his shirt. As though he needed this as much as I did, his other hand moved down my back and grabbed my waist, shaping me against him.

I was deceived by my body, which melted into his in response to his touch's wordless command.

Then he tore himself away as abruptly as it had begun.

As we stood there, the air between us was heavy and we were both breathing heavily. My body screamed in protest at the abrupt lack of warmth, and my lips tingled.

Damian's chest was rising and sinking as if he had lost control, and his eyes were crazy.

I still felt him there when I brushed my lips. "Why?" My speech sounded unsteady. "What did you do?"

In an instant, his face tightened, like a mask snapping back into place.

"Because, Lyra, you don't know what you're playing with." He spoke in a harsh but firm voice. He stepped back, separating himself as if he required room. "You believe you can take me on. It seems like you can push me. However, there are repercussions.

My body continued to deceive me with its residual heat, so I swallowed hard. "There was no consequence for that." My voice faltered a little. "It was something else entirely."

His jaw muscle twitched, but he remained silent.

Between us, there was a heavy and thick silence. Then—

From someplace in the house came a thunderous crash.

Damian's body tensed instantly as his head swung toward the door.

One more crash.

Then there were voices. Urgent, angry.

My stomach dropped. "What's going on?"

Damian remained silent. His grip was firm but not painful as he took hold of my wrist and drew me in. He had darker eyes than I had ever seen.

With a steely voice, he commanded, "Stay behind me."

Before I could even comprehend what he had said, the door to the study sprang open.

My father was standing there, his face pallid, his eyes wild.

He had blood on his hands.

He was holding a gun.