Bounded by Flames

Vulvan's pov.

She froze for a second before ignoring me. “I’m not in the mood for your games, Vulvan.”

I stood, crossed the room in two strides, and grabbed her wrist, spinning her to face me. The towel slipped slightly. My breath caught.

She glared at me, chest heaving, lips trembling. But not from fear. From rage. From the maddening confusion I planted in her heart.

“You don’t get to decide when the game ends, Zara. Only I do.”

She snatched her hand away and stepped back. “You keep pushing, and one day I’ll push back hard enough you won’t like it.”

I smirked, stepping forward again. “Good. Fight me. Push me. Scream at me. Just don’t ignore me.”

She blinked. Her breath hitched.

I leaned in, voice dropping, “I don’t want your silence, Zara. I want your screams. I want your curses. Your fists if it comes to that. Anything but silence.”

“Why?” she snapped. “So you can feel powerful? So you can control me like some puppet? I said I was sorry, Vulvan. You’ve punished me enough. How much more do you want?”

I caught her chin in my hand, forcing her eyes up to mine. “Because silence means you’ve given up. And I don’t want a hollow shell beside me. I want you. Loud, fiery, stubborn you.”

Her eyes widened a fraction. She wasn’t expecting that. I could see it shaking something inside her.

“Then stop treating me like property or a child,” she whispered.

I stepped back slightly. That... hurt more than I’d admit out loud.

“I don’t see you as property,” I said, jaw tight. “I see you as mine.”

“That’s the same thing. You tell me to stay in your room, wear your clothes. I did. Doesn’t that look like a property to you?”

“No. It’s not,” I snapped. “Being mine means I protect you. I carry your burdens. I feed you, clothe you, heal you when I break you—and I will break you, Zara. But I will always put you back together.”

She stared at me, silent again, lips parted like she had more to say but didn’t know how to say it.

I turned away before she could see how much her words got to me. “Dinner will be here soon,” I muttered, heading toward the window.

A few moments passed. I felt her move, dressing quietly behind me. I didn’t look. If I did, I’d drag her back to the bed and undo all her effort at getting clean.

“I don’t get it,” she said suddenly. “You hurt me, then try to take care of me. What am I supposed to feel?”

I turned my head slightly. “Everything. Feel everything. I want all of it—your hatred, your passion, your defiance. Don’t you understand yet? I need you to feel me.”

A knock came at the door. I went to open it. A servant entered with a tray of food, eyes lowered, placing it on the side table. I waved them off, locking the door after they left.

“Eat,” I said, placing the tray in front of her.

She didn’t move. “You’re not going to force me?”

I raised a brow. “I could. But I don’t want to feed a corpse. Starve if you like. Just don’t expect me to feel guilty.”

She sat reluctantly, picking up a fork. “You’re twisted,” she muttered under her breath.

I chuckled darkly. “I’ve heard worse.”

She stabbed a piece of chicken, then paused. “You said we’d be staying in the same room now. What else is going to change?”

I tilted my head. “Everything.”

She looked up, eyes narrowing. “That’s not an answer.”

I walked to the edge of the bed again, sitting. “You’ll wake up with me. Eat with me. Sleep beside me. There will be rules. And consequences.”

“Rules?” she scoffed. “What kind of prison are you turning this into?”

I leaned back lazily. “One you’ll learn to crave.”

She shook her head, clearly frustrated. “What if I say no?”

I stood, walked over, and cupped her face gently. “Then I’ll have to remind you how persuasive I can be.”

Her lips parted again. This time not with anger—but anticipation.

She was falling, and she didn’t even know it yet.

“As much as I want to chit-chat, I have work to attend to, princess. See you later.” I placed a soft kiss on her forehead before heading for the door. If I stayed too long with her, I wouldn’t have the intention of leaving anymore. I was already drawn to her—in body, soul, and spirit. Her smell was still as fresh as the first day I set eyes on her.

But I had responsibilities to see to. Orders to give. A world outside this room that demanded my attention. Even though every part of me wanted to stay wrapped in her presence, I had to step away—just for now.

She didn’t say anything as I left. But I could feel her eyes on me. Watching. Thinking. Wrestling.

Maybe the silence wasn’t her giving up after all. Maybe she was just beginning to understand what we were becoming. And that was enough to make me smile.

As the door shut behind me, I rested my hand on the knob for a second longer. One breath. Two.

Then I walked away.