90

Regan's heart began its race as he pushed her down the cold, rough ground. "You....you brute!" she exclaimed, her hands trying to hit him. 

His hand slid around her throat, not quite choking, but rather stroking, with the perfect amount of pressure. "You do realize this is a childish fight?" his voice was matching a serpent's hiss when he spoke, eyes boring into her soul, "You're fighting over nothing. You'll always be mine in the end. Always. MINE. Do you get it?"

Regan felt the sharp edges of the ground dig into her back, targeting the wound she had gotten when she found her mother. But she gritted her teeth, refusing to make any sound of it, "I'm fighting for my mother, for my pride," she spat back, "But if that's childish for you, so be it."

She used her other hand, bringing it up, aiming to shot him with a bolt of fire. But he caught both of her hands mid-air, pinning them above her head, the flame fading like the last flickers of confidence she had held.

Her body struggled, trying to kick him away with her legs, but his grip was cruel, despite his weight not crashing down on her. Regan now indeed felt a jolt of panic, realizing she was at his mercy.

"You've been using these powers more than necessary," he noted with narrowed eyes, "I wonder, where have they been when I've been closer to you."

"I've never been close to you," Regan bit back, tilting her head to the side, refusing to look at him.

His hand on her neck slipped to her jaw, grabbing it firmly and turning her face back to him, "You're so wrong," he said, a faint smile forming on his lips, but not a sinister one, "You've been closer than enough to me." 

Regan's jaw clenched, but the flicker of fear was evident in her eyes, "What are you talking about?" she demanded. 

He leaned even closer, studying her expression, "I'm saying....you've slept in my arms, in my bed," he stated, though he could already predict the outcome. "And you were....safe. You just don't remember."

His words were a shock to her system, her body going limp for a moment, "W-what?!" she cracked, her voice breaking with pain, "You....you pervert! What have you done to me!" The struggle began once more in her, more erratic and inconsistent, her eyes watering from the implication of his words, "You're mentally depraved! You all are!"

His eyes flashed with something that looked like genuine hurt. He had pulled the wrong card, "Is that what you really think of me?" His fingers traced her trembling lips lightly, eyes dropping there for a moment. Regan didn't see hunger in them, but a deep thirst, thirst for what, she didn't know.

"Get off me, you sadistic monster!" Her reply was fierce, hot and cold sweat coating her skin. His grip didn't loose a fraction, despite her kicking and thrashing, "That's what you all get off on, isn't it?" she gritted out, her breath heaving with the weight of his words, with the effort to keep the tears from spilling, "Fucking every wom-"

His lips crashed down onto hers before she could finish it. 

Regan froze. 

The time stopped. 

It was a furious, possessive kiss that knocked the air out of her, blocking whatever storm had coursed through her soul.

She didn't know what to do, except for watch with wide eyes. No one had ever kissed her before. Certainly, she had imagined something of it, with this demon, but she hadn't entertained it to this point. She felt his tongue part her lips, and before she even registered it, it had already claimed every inch of her mouth, leaving no part unblemished.

Regan's blood boiled as much as it shivered, and she felt a surge of defiance, much more stronger than before.

But the air was too hot with his scent, the world too blurry, tilting on its axis. His grip on her neck, so heavy and proprietorial, it was perceived more like a caress, than an assault. Something she loathed herself for.

The other hand, the one that was holding her wrists pinned, took hers and interlocked their fingers together. The gesture sent a warm sensation in Regan's chest, and she almost kissed him back, almost.

But the cold, unforgiving ground beneath her was a constant alarm of what she had let him do. The more she squirmed, the more her back wound throbbed.

He suddenly rolled them over and she winced, now the one on top. She didn't know why he'd done that. Her hair cascaded around them like a protective curtain of anger and passion, filtering the sunlight in delicate lines. 

His grip at the back of her neck never loosened, as if he was afraid she'd slip like sand through his fingers if he didn't move his mouth against hers.

He kissed her so deeply, so vehemently, that she couldn't even feel the corporal sensation anymore. No external sounds, no barriers. Just him and his intensity. His hands, his mouth. A vortex, with a drowning quality, engulfing her whole, matching the feeling of levitation. 

It was as if he trying to transcend the physical realm, and reach into her soul, the flawless soul that had been calling to him since the first time he'd seen her.

And he was doing it, something probing through her very essence, a current of vibration that she couldn't realize where it was coming from.

But no, she hadn't gone numb entirely. She could feel his smirk, as if he had never been more delighted before, and her chest was burning with a fierce need to do something violent. The hand that was entwined with his jerked away and grabbed his wrist, slamming it onto the ground. She felt a hot, edged iron surface from under her palm, and with a herculean effort, tore herself off him.

She scrambled away, quickly on her feet. He was still laying on the ground, breathing ragged, his wrist pinned on the ground by her ardent chains. Regan's heart was trembling from what had just happened, eyes welling up with hurt and confusion.

Her pride and dignity, which she protected so fervently, were now shattered. The chains on the other hand, she knew they were a mere distraction, so her hand automatically reached for the dagger she had hid under her belt.

With a grunt, he ripped the chains off the ground, rising on his feet within the second. Regan staggered back, not wanting to meet his eyes, afraid of what she'd see. 

He took a step towards, brushing the dust off his robes, looking at the dagger she was holding, "Love, you can't kill me with that. The only person who understands what you feel," he said hoarsely, his eyes filled with a hint regret and pure, unadulterated longing.

But Regan's grip on the dagger was tightening, an involuntary tear escaping her eye, one of rage, "You took my first kiss," she spat, her voice oscillating between anger and loathing, "I wasn't going to give it to anyone, let alone to a sick bastard like you!"

Sirius took another deliberate step closer, "Yet you kissed me back," he retorted, a slight smile stretching on his lips.

She shook her head vigorously, the bright sun that hit her eyes intensifying their watering until it all came too blurry, the fury that coursed through her veins too potent. 

"You said this is a childish game, right?" she seethed, the grip on the hilt not faltering, "I'll show you how much of a childish game this is!"

And then without a warning, she lunged at and shoved him, both of them landing on the ground with a thud again. 

She didn't wait for the smug expression of his face, she plunged the dagger into his shoulder, deep enough to make him roar in pain. He was right for one thing, she didn't want to kill him. But hurt? She wanted to hurt him to the soul.

His face twisted in agony, her hand immediately leaving the hilt when his shot up to it. 

Regan jolted on her feet, stumbling far, far away from him. Her throat became dry and she felt a pang of regret and concern following after. But it was overshadowed by the fierce anger that had taken over her. And fear, a sense of dread that settled in the pit of her stomach.

The seconds ticked by as the sunlight became even more unbearable. His grip on the dagger tightened, and she had to block her ears from hearing his struggle. His hand clutched around like a vice, until he pulled it out from his shoulder, and threw it away, the bloodied blade landing right under her feet with a sickening clip.

Regan swallowed hard a cry that had formed in her throat, and kicked the dagger away with her boot. Her eyes fell back at him, and she saw the blood protruding from his shoulder. Deep, dark red blood.

He stood up again, his good hand clenching the wound on his right shoulder. Regan stumbled backward even more, watching the icy irises of his eyes swirl with crimson. But it wasn't lust or anger. In fact, if she'd accept it, she'd say that she had seen anything but lust there.

"You think this changes anything, you foolish girl?" he growled, his voice strained with pain.

Regan couldn't keep watching at him, at the horrific thing she had done, despite her own ire. But she had done it to prove her point, no matter how trivial it may sound to him or to the world. "It's a lesson," she managed.

"A lesson, huh?" he sneered, advancing closer. He was too physically unaffected for someone who'd just been stabbed.

"Stay away from me," Regan warned, her palms glowing with fire, ready to attack again. She wasn't here to play mind games, she was here to do whatever it took to protect herself, even if it relied only on physicality.

"Like hell I will! You," he took a deep, heavy breath, "Are. Mine. I'll never let you go, Ylor. We're bound eternally!"

Regan almost flinched at the intensity of his words, at the pain he hid so well behind the facade of his posture. And she felt a strange vine wrap around her heart, squeeze forcefully until she'd give in, say that she was sorry, that she hadn't meant to hurt him in the pure sense, and perhaps....that she was his. But only an idiot would do that. How could she even considerate saying such words, for the sake of calming him down? For the sake of that tang of regret that couldn't keep from stinging? A regret from a foolish mind, for a depraved, promiscuous man, demon, lord, it didn't even matter. Why did she even have to care for his disillusionment?

"I hate you so much!" she shouted, her voice drained with emotion, "You took my dignity, my everything from me!"

His expression hardened further, "Regan, that's not what happened."

"It's exactly what happened!" Regan didn't know what she hated more, the tears that were falling without her permission, or the way her chest trembled from the words, "You drugged me that night! You took advantage of a vulnerable, unconscious girl! You deserve to die and rot in hell for eternity. You're a monster."

The words hung in the air, making the very sunlight feel somber against her despair. He had never felt the need to prove himself to someone and it was all that kept him from snapping and turning away, leaving her to drown in her own accusations. But he couldn't do that.

"I swear, I've never taken advantage of anyone in that way," he began once more, with a gentler tone, approaching her cautiously, as if trying to tame a wild cat. "And I wouldn't begin with you, with such a beautiful, pure girl."

"I'm not beautiful! And I said, Stay Away From Me!" Regan's hands stretched forward, dangerous flames dancing on her fingers. But he didn't deter.

"I can explain to you, Ylor," he replied, his hand reaching to her, "I care for you. More than I've ever done for anything else."

Her heart clenched once more, almost like it was pleading to listen, to accept that he somehow did, in his own unconventional way. But the terror that had gripped her was too strong, "I don't need your care," she spat back, "I don't need anything from you."

He was at arm's length now, before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to his surprisingly comforting embrace. He ignored her flames licking at his clothes, her relentless squirming. He buried his head in her neck, sweeping her hair aside to expose her creamy skin.

"Believe me once," he murmured, kissing her neck, his teeth scraping gently. She shivered and her hands gripped at his shirt, the flames dimming slowly. He kissed her with a strange deverence that was unbelievable, every nip and bite making her knees feel like lead. She felt no pain, just a tingling flow through her veins, from where his lips were.

But then she pushed herself away and slapped him, a sound that got carried away from the wind and echoed in the empty courtyard, a sound that wasn't satisfying anymore. He didn't flinch, didn't speak. Just watched, a red imprint forming on his cheek from her palm.

"How dare you do that again?" Regan's cheeks now were glistering with tears, and she couldn't control them. "You think that just because you kiss me, touch me, say these words, now I'm going to beg for you? That I'm some 'good, innocent' damsel who never has enough? Who's been waiting for some beast to sweep her off her feet? You think I'm that low?"

His black eyebrows furrowed, his eyes a storm of anger, hurt, passion, unbridled and untamed, "I never said you were low-"

"You don't have to say it," Regan interrupted sharply, distancing herself away as if he'd burned her. He seemed to grow even more furious at each passing millisecond, and her cold sarcasm didn't help.

"What you do speaks enough. You're a man of actions, aren't you? A handsome, powerful demon lord with countless women throwing themselves at you. You have everything you want, power, respect, fear. What the hell do you want from me then?" she paused, her voice like a knife coated in venom, cutting through the charged air, "Why the hell can't you understand I'm not like them? You think you can 'fix' me? Shape me into your doll? It's never going to happen! Never."

Silence fell, a deep, bitter silence. She could hear only her own heartbeats, and the soft rustling of the leaves in the distance. Her words stung deeper than any physical wound she could give him. He didn't even know what to say anymore. His shoulder throbbed in pain, blood never stoping, but he had forgotten about it long ago.

"Of course," Regan snapped, feeling a strange disappointment at not getting a response, a single word that he wasn't here to 'fix' or 'shape' her. Even if she wouldn't believe it.