83

The rest of their flight passed in tension, with Sirius throwing provoking words on Regan's way, mocking her, her family, her past. Octavia tried to calm Regan down, but the girl was too furious.

"Ylor, sleep," Sirius said, no smirk or teasing in his tone. "You're not used to traveling in such a manner. And snapping back at everything I say, won't help it either."

"Shut up," Regan retorted through gritted teeth. Octavia leaned closer to her.

"Sweetie, what if I take a nap?" she whispered, "Will you be good?"

Regan looked at her mom, knowing she was tired and knowing she couldn't keep her awake just because she was uncomfortable. "Yes, mom."

After a while, Octavia fell asleep, her head resting on the seat. Regan kept her eyes open, not looking at him at all, her hands clenched into fists. The cabin was silent, except for the occasional creak of the plane and the sound of Octavia's soft breathing.

Sirius stared at Regan, studying her face. He wondered what she was thinking, what she was planning. He wondered if she was thinking about him. And he couldn't help but stir up conversations with her even if it meant to end up in fights or insults.

"You know, I've always wondered," he began, his voice low and almost gentle, "what kind of life do you think you'd have, if your kingdom would exist? Would you be some great queen? Would you be ruling your people, leading them to prosperity?" His voice held a mocking edge.

Regan's eyebrows furrowed, "Why do you care?" she retorted, not bothering to hide the anger in her voice. "You're the one who made us like that. You're the one who destroyed my homeland."

Sirius leaned back on his seat, his expression blank and undecipherable, "Avalon wasn't only your homeland, you know. It was mine too. I was born and grown up there, just like you. But I didn't have it easy."

Regan shook her head, not wanting to listen at him, "I don't care. Don't speak to me and don't look at me. Just shut up and mind your own business," she said, looking down at her lap, trying to avoid his nagging presence. She sensed him standing from his seat and walking to her side. She thought he was going to pass by her seat but he didn't. She felt her jaw being grabbed and her face being forced up. He leaned closer, his eyes drowning on hers.

"What a pity, Ylor," he said, his voice low and rough, eyes dropping to her lips for a moment longer than necessary, "Such a little stubborn beauty who sees only her own version of the story."

Regan recoiled, jerking her jaw away from his grip, "I don't need a criminal's side of story," she spat. "I don't care."

Sirius smiled darkly, his eyes still on her lips, making her cheeks heat up. He seemed to enjoy the reaction he got, and looked back to her eyes, "Ah, but you care more than you realize, my princess. And don't worry," he said as he leaned even closer, his eyes filled with a dangerous glint, "your care....it's redirected."

Regan felt the urge to slap at him, to wipe out that look of smugness, her blood boiling. She could feel the strain in her neck from keeping it so high.

He released her jaw abruptly, and she rubbed at it with her hand. "What does that mean?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He turned to sit back on his seat, "It means," he said, his face a mask of cold detachment, "that as long as you care for things you don't even want, I'll bring it on my advantage. It's not like I care for you, Ylor. In fact, I don't give a damn about you," he declared harshly, though the words felt forced.

They hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. Regan couldn't help but feel a stab of hurt despite herself. She said nothing, just avoided his gaze.

But his words had hit a nerve. She looked at her mother, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Regan wiped it off angrily. He didn't seem to notice at first. But then, he did. And she felt like an idiot.

"Why are you crying, sweetheart?" he asked, but his voice wasn't sarcastic. It was gentle, almost sweet, in contrast to his earlier harsh tone.

"I'm not crying," she lied through gritted teeth, refusing to look at him.

Sirius chuckled lowly, his eyes flicking with a hint of amusement, "Lies don't suit you, sweetheart. You're terrible at them. You're crying because you're hurt, aren't you? Because you think I'm using you? Because you think I don't care?" He paused, tilting his head, "Did I hurt you? When I said I didn't care about you?" His expression softened, almost regretfully.

Regan's hands curled into fists and she stood up abruptly, trying to escape the oppressive air. She didn't want to leave her mother here, but she didn't want to see him either. The doubt was erased when he stood up again, and followed her.

She walked through the seats, ending up in a small cozy opening, with white couches, a small table in the middle, facing a wine rack against the wall.

"Leave me alone," she hissed through gritted teeth, seeing him standing close behind her.

"Did I hurt you?"

Regan's teeth were clenched, "No," she replied. "I wasn't even thinking about you." There were other things to cry about. Such as the fact that she had found her mother, and he wasn't leaving them be.

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms, "Don't lie to me, Ylor. You're so affected, aren't you? You want me to care for you too, instead of use and play with you."

With each word, he stepped closed, and Regan's cheeks flushed in anger and embarrasment, but she held his gaze, "I'm not affected," she spat back, "And if there's anything I want, it's your death."

His eyes flickered with a hint of anger and hurt. He didn't believe her, but the loathing in her voice was undeniable. 

With a flick of his wrist, he sent her stumbling on the lounge couch, her breath rushing out of her lungs. Regan hadn't expected that. She tried to stand up, but it was like an invisible force was preventing her from doing so. She glared up at him, who stood over her with a bemused expression. 

"How delightful," he drawled with a cold smirk. "You're shedding tears because you can't kill me? So desperate to get rid of me that it's eating you up inside."

"Isn't that what you want too?" Regan shot back, the walls closing in on her.

"Maybe," he conceded, "But that doesn't mean I want you dead, Ylor." He shoved the coffee table away with his boot, the movement of scraping wood sounding like nails on a chalkboard. "I'm no decent man, Regan," he said coolly, "And sometimes the chase is better than immediate lethality. Especially when I'm chasing you."

Regan felt a chill run down her spine at his words. She didn't want to be chased by anyone. "I'm not a toy for your amusement," she gritted out, this time really panicking at how she couldn't move.

He chuckled darkly, and walked over to her side, "But you enjoy being the only one in my eyes, don't you?" he said, his voice an alluring whisper, "You the good girl, and me the villain. How....predictable."

Regan's blood boiled. She hated how he belittled her, how he turned the situation to his advantage. And his arrogance, his ominous shadow in the other side of the compartment, she didn't know how much she could keep from rebuking.

She tried to stand up again, but to no avail. It was like he had wrapped invisible chains around her, preventing any movement.

"I don't have time for disgusting games. Release me," she demanded sharply.

He sat beside her and she recoiled, pressing herself against the sofa's corner. But there was little space left between them, and he draped his arm around her shoulder, "Tell me, Ylor," he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair, "What do you think when you see me?"

Regan's squirmed both with repulsion and with the unwanted flutter of her heart. But she had to get out of here, out of this suffocating entity. She tried to summon a fireball in her fist, but his hand wrapped around it, dissipating the spell.

"Get your hands off me!" Regan growled, trying to push him away from her desperately. But his spell was relentless.

He sighed dramatically, "Fine, you can move," he withdrew his arm, calling off the spell. But as soon as Regan stood up, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back in.

"Let's not be hasty," he said, his hand circling around her wrist, "Answer me first."

Regan's heart raced as she felt his breath on her face, "Let. Me. Go," she demanded, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. 

His grip on her wrist tightened slightly, his other hand moving up to run his fingers through her hair. "Why don't you want to stay with me?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "I've never given you a reason to leave."

Regan gulped down hard, a trickle of sweat beginning to form on her neck. She gathered more strength this time, jerking her wrist away, and trying to shove him from her. 

But his hand on her hair, it had remained tangled there, and she cried out in pain of it being pulled, a sharp pain shooting through her scalp. He stiffened too, as if he hadn't done it on purpose, "Damn it," she heard him mutter, his hand letting go of her hair immediately, "I didn't mean that."

"What the hell do you want?" she spat at him, sounding seriously frustrated now. She looked at him, at his icy eyes that were now filled with something strange. Something that made her heart skip a beat.

"Everything would be different if you were on my side," he replied simply, not quite touching her. But she only shrank back, her heart hammering in her throat.

"That's never going to happen," Regan replied, her voice steady despite the slight tremors running through her.

"Never say never, kitten," he murmured, leaning closer a little, "You're brave, strong and intelligent, with a mind that doesn't sway easily and a spirit that's bathed in gold. You were all alone to find and rescue your mother. Why can't you just accept we'd be a perfect match? You've done enough science in school to know that ions must cancel out each other to form a sustainable bond."

The way he said it, with such twisted pride and patronization, made her want to scream. She wasn't an ion. She was a person with feelings and thoughts. And she didn't want to be anyone's plaything or 'perfect match'.

"We're not forming any bond," she hissed, hoping she wouldn't wake up her mother with her loud voice. "And I'm not interested in your idiotic analogies."

And then she stood up. He let her, but his eyes didn't. Regan brushed off the invisible dust from her cloak, and turned to walk back to where her mother was.

But he wasn't finished, a flicker of annoyance rising within. He stalked her, his words laced with venom when he uttered them, "You asked me what I wanted. You're so curious, aren't you?"

She had no time to respond, his hand grabbing her arm once more, and now leading her to a glass door at the end of the cabin. Regan hadn't even noticed that earlier.

He kicked it open, and she saw a space filled with tables and chairs, an area that looked like a dining room. But that wasn't what got her quick attention. It was the blue-haired woman, seated on one of the chairs, wearing a sleek red dress that barely covered her. It was Vesper, talking to a man in black, engrossed in their conversation, but not looking at her.

"Since you wanted to know," Sirius whispered in her ear, "You see that, right?"

Regan felt a pang of hurt as she realized what he meant. She didn't know why she had absurdly thought he'd say he wanted her, that he cared about her in some twisted way. It was a stupid, naive thought nevertheless. Instead, he was pointing out to her sworn enemy. It stung deeply.

"Why are you telling me that?" she said coldly, trying to mask her hurt. "You think I care?"

"You care enough to ask," he retorted, his grip on her arm tightening slightly. Regan felt a mix of anger and confusion swirling inside her. She couldn't understand why he was acting this way, why he kept tormenting her.

"You can go have her," Regan spat, her voice filled with bitterness. "I don't care who you're with. Just leave me alone."

"You're jealous, aren't you?" Sirius remarked, his eyes softening with amusement and something more tender. "You're jealous of who I'm with. You're not wrong, sweetheart. I'm going to kiss her, and you won't ve able to do anything about it."

Regan's heart sank when these words left his lips. She knew she shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't care about Sirius's attention on other women or who he kissed with. After all, she had always thought him to have a harem of women, so it wasn't surprising. But the jealousy was like a smoke clogging her better judgement.

"I'm not jealous," she hissed through gritted teeth, "I don't care what you do."

He watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable and then sighed. "You're not fooling anyone, Regan," he muttered, waving his hand dismissely. But as soon as he did so, the image of Vesper and the man disappeared, and Regan's eyes widened with shock.

"You....you...." she trailed off, ending up speechless. What a manipulator he was. How dare he play with her like that? 

Sirius's grip on her arm loosened slightly, his eyes flashing with something unreadable, "It was a mere test," he said with cold indifference, "And you reacted just as I predicted. But don't worry, love," he leaned closer, his eyes boring on hers, "You're the only one I think about. No need to get possessive."

Regan pulled her arm out of his grasp, her anger and defiance boiling over, "I'm not possessive," she snapped, her voice tinged with defiance. "Get out of my sight, asshole."

His features hardened just a fraction, and he grabbed her arm again, pushing her against the wall, not with much force, but not too lightly either. The back wound throbbed and Regan bit her cheeks to prevent from making any sound of pain.

He towered over her, the feeling of entrapment as clear as the day. His head dipped low, bangs hanging over his eyes, like a protective midnight curtain. 

Regan's hands tried to push him away, but he was too strong, too relentless. How had been so utterly affected by his illusion?

"You," he began, his husky voice making her breath quicken. Her eyes couldn't find the force to look at him. But instead at his chest, a chest that who knew how many women had touched, "think I'm only cruel, manipulative and evil," he said it more like a fact, eyes intense. "You've never thought something else, have you?"

Regan's clenched her teeth, trying to ignore his hold on her arms, his eyes demanding her attention, "I haven't," she answered, her voice strained, "I've never thought something else for you. Because that's all what you are. Just like everyone else."

Something flickered in his eyes for a moment before he masked it with the usual blankness. "Admit it then. That you hate me. That you want me dead. That you want me to suffer. Say it because it all makes it even better for me. Because it's a lovely melody to my ears."

But the words eluded her as quickly as she had thought to respond. Regan wanted to say she hated him and everything else, but now, she couldn't. He had turned everything to his advantage. If she'd say it, he'd be pleased. If not, he'd think she didn't hate him. 

Her eyes darted to the sides, trying to find a way to escape, not just from that wall, but from all this madness. A prickling sensation was forming in her eyes, and she hated herself for showing a crack in her defiance. It was like all the pent-up tears she had kept were going to unleash now and it scared her.

"Hmm? I'm waiting," he taunted, that smirk playing on his lips once more. "Or did the words get stuck in your throat? Or don't you hate me?" he asked, his hand sliding up to trace her scar with his thumb. It was more like a caress and sent her senses berserk on alarm.

Regan slapped his hand away, her cheeks burning a deep shade of pink. He was invading her whole space and she felt like she was going to suffocate, like she was going to fall unconscious, if he kept looking at her like that.

"Ah," he flinched mockingly, "Such a feisty girl."

A tear finally escaped her eye and she didn't even realize it. Sirius's smirk faltered. Making her cry had been the last thing he wanted. He had pushed her, but not to the point where she'd end up shedding tears. But maybe he had pushed to far. He wanted to make her smile and laugh, but apparently he was terrible at it.

He cupped her face with both his hands, and wiped away her tear, "You're crying," he said, his voice now devoid of any sarcasm. "Regan, stop it. Don't cry."

The way he said these words made her eyes water fully. His warmth didn't repel her entirely. "Do you really loathe me that much?" Sirius's eyes searched hers, a strange tone in his voice, "You feel nothing when we're separated? You don't feel this sharp pain here?" his hand slid from her cheek to his left side, "I don't mean it figuratively, Ylor. Whenever you're away from me, it's like there's a fiery and painful wire that comes out from my heart and ends up in yours, which feels like it will snap with blood if you keep leaving. You've never experienced the effects of our bond?"

Regan was speechless. The words of anger and revulsion, of lying and saying she felt no bond, of telling him to shut up, getting stuck in her throat. The pain he described was something she had felt with all her nerves, but she didn't want to admit it.

"No," she managed to say, "I've never experienced it."

He leaned even closer until his lips were dangerously close to hers. "Lies don't suit you, firefly," he said, almost through gritted teeth. His gaze fell on her trembling lips and then back at her eyes, where he could see the conflict within.

The air grew charged poisonously, the kind of poison that made you float, doubt yourself, and the image in front of you. She felt his hot minty breath, a mere inch away from her lips, and she stiffened, the wheels in her head snapping out of the daze. What right had he to touch her like that? Not one had. No one had, no one would.

She slapped him. 

Hard and violent. 

A sound that echoed sharply around the compartment. She felt such a great surge of satisfaction following after, that made her realize how late she was to have stabbed him now, and not long times ago.

But still, she watched him with a blend of dread and anticipation, pondering his next move. His head was turned to his side, his hand dropping from her face to cover his stinging cheek.

"Violent, I like it," he drawled, turning back to look at her, eyes filled both with what seemed to be frustration and amusement."But you haven't admitted it. You haven't said you hate me."

"I don't have to say anything to you," Regan spat out, her voice trembling with barely contained tears, "you already know it."

His eyes didn't leave hers for a moment, his mind questioning of whether to change her mind right here and now, or wait and not cause a scene.

But he chose the latter, his hands dropping to his sides. He backed away and straightened his coat, "You're right, my sweet," he said, sounding almost resigned. "I already know. I know it all. You don't have to say it." But he didn't leave without ruffling her hair playfully, a gesture that was at odds with the tension hanging in the air.

He turned away and walked, disappearing behind that glass door with heavy steps.

Regan released a shaky breath as soon as he left, cold sweats falling all over her. How had he dared to touch her face like that, to be so close? He could've kissed her, had she not reacted and sat there like an idiot.

It made her rip his throat out and grip her own hair as well. Her whole body shook with rage and fear, her legs barely carrying her. What had just happened? How had she allowed him to do that?

Regan wiped her face off with her sleeve, taking a trembling inhale. She had to go to the restroom, if only there was one. The empty white seats were almost clinical, the air grown colder now that she was alone, her mother sleeping in the other side of the cabin, him gone to hell for all she cared.

Regan walked back to where she remembered, letting out a sigh when she saw her mother still sleeping. Her feet dragged her again to search for a restroom, but she was cautious, not wanting to stumble to him again.

The girl in uniform from earlier appeared from somewhere, her eyes narrowing slightly, "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice neutral, but not kind.

Regan fought the urge to say something offensive, "The restroom," she muttered, tilting her head to the side, not wanting the girl to see her face.

The flight attendant's face twisted into a grimace, but she answered nonetheless, "Follow me."

And so Regan did, slamming the restroom door shut as soon as she stepped in. The tears were now finally free, staining her hollow cheeks. She couldn't stop them, couldn't shake the unwanted thrill she had felt when he had called her 'love', when he had held her face like that, despite of how trivial it was in her case. But this wasn't the only reason, it was the entire situation pressing down on her.

She had never felt so weak. She had just found her mother, the most important person in her life, the love she had lived without for so long. And now she was crying because of that bastard. Regan's blood boiled with anger, and she went to the sink, slamming the icy water against her hot face.

How had he even found them? She hadn't even had time to talk freely with her mom. Everything had happened so fast.

But no, she couldn't let him ruin it. Not anymore. She wouldn't let him dictate her life anymore. Especially when it came to her mother. Regan grabbed a towel from the rack, wiped her face vigorously, and stepped back into the compartment.