Out Of Shell

Thea woke the next morning with sunlight pressing against her eyelids. She rolled onto her side, burying her face in the pillow, wishing she could sink into its softness and disappear.

It's been a few days since the gala and she's been hiding in her room since she read about Seth, finding out the man that he was.

She turned on her bed, rolling from one side to another, pulling in her pillow. But reality pressed in from every direction. The gala. The revelation. The limo. Seth’s words.

She sat up abruptly, the sheets sliding down her shoulders. Her heart began to race as if the memory itself had claws, dragging across her skin.

Seth Blackwood. Her husband.

The man who owned Mayqueen, the man whispered about like a myth, had been in her bed all along.

Thea swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet pressing against the rug, grounding her for a moment. She needed to breathe. She needed to think. She needed…

...to not see him.

She decided right then she wasn’t going downstairs. Not today. Not ever. She didn't have what it took, the strength to face him, to ask the questions that she desperately wanted to ask.

She bathed, dressed in soft loungewear, and tucked herself into the corner of her room with her laptop. Anything to occupy her mind. She scrolled through articles about Seth Blackwood, some flattering, some fear-laden, all written in tones that made her insides twist.

Each photograph of him in the press was controlled. He looked untouchable. And yet, she had seen him up close, the curve of his mouth against her skin, the darkness in his gaze when he realised that she didn't know who he was.

Thea pressed the lid of the laptop shut, her chest tight.

She wasn’t going down there.

But her resolve fractured when a gentle knock came at her door. It opened before she answered, and Butler John’s polite voice floated in.

“Madam, breakfast is served. Mr. Blackwood requests your presence.”

Thea stiffened, looking over her shoulder. “Tell him I’m not hungry.”

Butler John, as ever, remained serene. “Madam, I’m afraid he insisted.”

Thea’s stomach tightened. Of course he did. Seth Blackwood didn’t take no for an answer, not even about breakfast.

“I’ll come later,” she tried again, but Butler John only inclined his head, his calm persistence leaving no room for negotiation.

Defeated, Thea rose and slipped into a simple cream blouse and trousers. Her steps were slow as she followed him down the sweeping staircase, the vast house swallowing her whole.

The dining room waited like a stage. Sunlight streamed through tall windows. The long oak table was set with several meals, but only one figure sat at its center.

Seth.

His black shirt was open at the collar, his posture regal even in stillness. A tablet lay on the table, his plate untouched, his hand resting lazily on the stem of a glass of water.

When his eyes lifted and found hers, Thea froze mid-step.

“Good morning,” he said smoothly, as if nothing had happened, as if a few nights ago, a revelation hadn't split her world into two.

She lowered her gaze quickly. “Morning,” she muttered, sliding into the chair furthest from him.

But distance meant little when his presence reached across the space anyway.

Thea focused on the plate set before her: eggs, toast, fruit. The colors blurred. She picked up her fork but her hand trembled, and she set it down again. Her throat wouldn’t open, not with him watching.

Minutes stretched. The silence was unbearable.

Seth finally spoke. “You’re not eating.”

She shook her head, eyes still downcast.

“Look at me.”

The command was soft, but it sliced through the air.

Her fingers tightened in her lap. She couldn’t. If she looked at him, he would see everything, the confusion, the fear, the anger and she wasn’t ready for that.

“I said, look at me.” His chair scraped back.

Her breath hitched as she heard his slow, deliberate footsteps circling the table. Each one pulled the air tighter around her chest. She kept her eyes glued to her plate, praying her heart wasn’t as loud as it felt.

Then he was beside her.

She stiffened when his hand tipped her chin upward, gentle but firm. She tried to resist, but his touch was unstoppable, guiding her gaze until her eyes met his.

Her breath tangled in her throat.

His face was so close, the sharp lines softened by proximity, his eyes dark and unwavering. For a moment, she forgot the table, the food, the house…they blurred into insignificance compared to him.

Seth’s thumb brushed along her jaw, then without warning, he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Thea was startled. “Seth…”

But before she could finish, he kissed her cheek. Then the other. Then the tip of her nose.

Her pulse went wild.

“What are you..” she began breathlessly, but he silenced her with another kiss, this one at the corner of her mouth, light, deliberate, taunting.

Thea’s face flamed. She tried to turn away, but he followed, his lips catching her skin wherever they could…her forehead, her chin, her cheek again.

Her hands came up to push him back, but they faltered halfway, trembling in the air.

“Stop,” she whispered, though it came out weak, unconvincing.

His lips brushed her ear, his breath warm. “Why? Because you’re afraid? Or because you can’t hide when you look at me?”

Her chest tightened painfully. She wanted to scream, to shove him, to break the spell. But when his mouth pressed against the line of her jaw, a shiver betrayed her, slipping through her defenses.

Thea clenched her fists. “You’re impossible.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, drawing back just enough for their eyes to lock again. “But you’re not hiding anymore.”

And damn him, he was right. She wasn’t. She couldn’t.

Her gaze held his, her breath ragged, her cheeks burning. For the first time since last night, she didn’t look away.

Seth’s mouth curved faintly, not quite a smile but something close. He straightened slowly, giving her space, though the weight of his presence lingered over her like heat.

Thea blinked rapidly, her body still taut with nerves. She forced herself to pick up her fork again, her hand steadier this time.

He returned to his seat without a word, ready to start eating like he didn't just unnerve her with those bloody kisses..

But everything had changed.

Thea glanced at him from beneath her lashes, catching the edge of his profile in the golden morning light. And though she told herself she hated him, though she reminded herself of every reason to keep her guard up, she couldn’t deny one simple truth.

She could look at him now.

And that was the most dangerous thing of all.