Subdue-X

Peace Interrupted

The cool breeze from the open sundeck screen tugged at the sheer curtains, carrying the scent of saltwater and brushing against my bare arms. I shivered and rubbed at my skin, trying to ground myself. The low murmur of waves crashing against the shore reached me, distant but comforting. Palm trees stood like shadows in the moonlight, swaying gently in the night.

I slid out of bed, the mattress barely creaking under my weight. The moment my feet hit the cold floor, I winced, the tiles like ice against my bare soles. Christian was in the bathroom, the sound of running water tapering off. I moved quietly toward the doorway, the soft glow of the nightlight spilling into the room.

He didn’t hear me approach, and I startled him when I stepped into the doorway. He almost slipped, his hand catching the wall, eyes wide as he swore under his breath.

“Jesus, Ana, you can’t do that—” he exhaled, a chuckle breaking through his disbelief. His eyes met mine, the tension between us thick and familiar.

He stepped out of the shower, a towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water clinging to his skin. His hand slid beneath my shirt, gripping my waist firmly. His fingers dug into my skin just enough to steady himself—his touch grounding, but not gentle.

"Why do you always creep around like that?" His voice was low, a rasp of frustration mixed with something else. Something deeper.

I didn’t answer, just let him guide me out of the bathroom, his touch never leaving my waist. His grip tightened, possessive, as if he needed to feel that I was real. The dim light cast shadows across the room as we moved back toward the bed, the king-sized mattress on the floor like a shared secret between us.

“Have you even slept?” he asked, collapsing onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress. His hand found the inside of my calf, fingertips brushing over my skin before latching around my leg. The strength in his grip pulled me toward him, anchoring me there. I stood beside the bed, my breath catching as I felt his fingers tighten, pulling me closer until I was sitting on top of him, just in my underwear.

The breeze combed through my hair, and I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. He yanked on the collar of my shirt, dragging me down until our faces were inches apart.

"I don’t even remember arriving," I murmured, staring into his eyes, the tension between us thick as ever.

“You were exhausted,” he whispered, his voice dark and steady, like he was stating a fact I had no choice but to accept. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch a contrast to the hard edge in his words. “I put you to bed.”

I narrowed my eyes, doubtful. "I would've have woken up."

He cocked his head tired himself, "I gave you some assistance."

I could feel his hand tracing my skin, light and deliberate, like he was mapping out every inch of me, remembering every flaw. His gaze flickered to the bruises on my wrist, the way my lips trembled even when I tried to keep them steady.

“You’re always so stubborn,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing along my throat. “Like you have to fight me every step of the way. You make everything harder than it has to be.”

I tilted my head, the weight of his hand on my skin grounding me. "And you think you can just control everything, like if you hold on tight enough, you can keep me from breaking."

His grip tightened on my waist, and I could see the flash of something dark in his eyes. "You’re already breaking. I’m the only thing keeping you from shattering."

I didn’t argue. There was no point. We both knew it was true. His hand moved from my waist to the curve of my back, his fingers tracing the path of my spine. I leaned into his touch, my body responding even though my mind was screaming at me to resist.