Shroud of the midnight hour

Chapter eight- mind games

Marisol's furious glare shot to Hachirou, anger surpassing all shock. "I'm to be executed because I'm feared and detested by people I don't even know?" She chuckled humourlessly, and Hachirou merely watched her blankly. "And you told me I could join the academy for what? To get my hopes up? To shatter my resolve?" She laughed again, feeling slightly hysterical and light headed from the massive intake of information. This really had to be some kind of twisted, fucked up joke.
Hachirou merely watched her impassively, leaning forwards on the desk with his hands folded.

Marisol stood, pushing her chair back abruptly with a creak against the wooden floor boards. "This is ridiculous. There is no way these people have the authority to do something that drastic." She spins and moves to the door, slightly shaken. At least she hoped they had no such authority. Public executions were still highly popular in her city. "Go tell these jokes to someone else who will buy them."

Her hand reaches the door and she cracks it open ajar before she even has a chance to sense him.

Hachirou slams the door shut with one large hand beside her head, and she freezes. He is behind her like a cage, instantly moving from his chair with speed she couldn't comprehend, the proximity of his overwhelming presence so close to her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rise as a tinge of fear enters her. She has always been able to fend for herself against taller men because they underestimated her. She didn't think Hachirou would make the same mistake. He knew what she was, and that was without the strength she knew he contained.

This close she could smell the faint scent of pine and mint that radiated from him, and had the strange realisation that if she backed up now, her back would be flush with his chest. Her senses were suddenly hyperaware, an unfamiliar feeling deep down mixing in with that hint of fear.

"Step back," Marisol ordered quietly, and was pleasantly pleased that her voice didn't waver. "Let me out of this room. I'm done listening to this madness."

"I'm not done with my explanation yet. That file is merely what the higher ups want, not me. Let me finish before you throw a tantrum."He said blandly. "Sit down."
Hachirou went to move back, when he paused. He was so close behind her that she felt him freeze, as if in realisation of the situation they were in. There was a moment of tense silence where neither of them moved, before he shifted behind her. He leaned so his mouth was beside her ear and she stiffened as she felt the feather light touch of his breath on its shell. "Did you not hear me?" There was no blandness to his tone now, and she almost shuddered at the dark edge it carried. "I said sit down."

"You need to move first," Marisol quipped, and moved back. It was a mistake that brought her back flush with the solidness of his chest. She concealed the hitch of her breath quickly with her next words. "I can't move with you blocking me in."

"Is that right?" He said in a deep, hushed tone and Marisol could have sworn he was smiling.

"You're insufferable."

"Been called worse."

"Move."

"Certainly."

But he didn't move back, and Marisol didn't either. She could push him back, elbow him or even bring her knee up. She certainly had the strength to, but she didn't. She felt conflicted, the thought of so many people she didn't know wishing her dead mingling with a new feeling that flooded her at this closeness. She honed into the feeling of his warm chest touching her lightly, towering over her. She had never been this close to a man before, not in this way, and her face heated at this scandalous kind of intimacy she wasn't used to. She remained purely out of curiosity. Or so she told herself.

"You still haven't moved," She replied just as hushed, but neither had she. It seemed both of them were testing the boundaries, curiosity rich in the air. He was playing games again, except this time he was testing her--- daring her to back down. Marisol cocked an eyebrow at the challenge, an almost mischievous smile twisting her lips.
In an adrenaline fuelled moment, Marisol pushed back ever so slightly, and now there was no space between them. She could feel every dent of his solid stomach against her upper back through the thin material of their shirts.