Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 43: Throne Of Knots.

Dr Martini rose to her feet, a tremor lingering in her hand as she brushed it against her skirt. "I think I've overstayed," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lord Maximus cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the quiet that had settled after the gunshot. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before patting the empty chair beside him. "My little doctor," he began, his voice low and measured, "there's a place here for you."

Her eyes moved from his hand on the chair to his face, searching for any shift that might betray his intentions. A knot of apprehension tightened in her stomach, yet her feet seemed to move of their own accord, carrying her closer.

She settled into the chair slowly, her posture rigid, one leg crossing over the other in a defensive gesture.

"Nothing can harm you as long as you're with me," he said, his voice a steady murmur that seemed to vibrate through the room, washed over her.

A jolt shot through her as she flinched, her gaze snapping away from the molten heat that had suddenly ignited in his eyes. Her voice, a mere whisper compared to her earlier nonchalance, managed, "You don't offer comfort often, do you? Especially not physical comfort."

A muscle ticked in Lord Maximus's jaw. He reached out, a single finger brushing the underside of her chin, tilting her face up to meet his. The touch sent a jolt through her, gazing at the steely blaze in his eyes.

"Look at me, Martini," he commanded. "The Lord of the Shaque doesn't cower. Fear is a tool I wield, not a weakness I succumb to. It's in the eyes of others, a reflection of their potential demise." His voice a low rumble that corded her cheekbones.

A humorless chuckle, frigid and void of warmth, escaped his lips. His breath, laced with the faint scent of cannabis, hovered over her forehead as his hand slowly released her chin.

Her composure faltered for a moment, threatening to lock her legs in place. The icy air stole her breath, yet she met his gaze with a forced, flinty stare. The muscles in her face clenched taut, holding her breath, a statue poised for his next move.

"But imagine," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a shiver wracking down her spine. "Doctor, me as your only solace."

He paused, the corner of his lip twitching in a way that sent a tingle down her core. " Too dramatic, wouldn't you say, Doctor?"  He straightened, a wry smile playing on his lips, but it never reached his eyes.

"Consider this a glimpse, Martini, not a promise."

His voice regained its usual authoritative tone. "Now, tell me, Doctor, did you encounter anyone out of the ordinary on your way here?"

Dr. Martini's head snapped up, her gaze boring into Lord Maximus's face. A furrow creased her brow as she processed his words. "No..." she muttered under her breath, the sound swallowed whole by the oppressive silence of the room. Her fingers, twisting into knots at her sides, scanning his expression, a telltale sign that might expose his true feelings.

A thick tension settled between them. Then, a surprising gentleness broke through as Lord Maximus caressed her face. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the fleeting touch erupting a crimson tide on her face.  "Are you hurt?" he rumbled, his voice a low vibration that resonated deep within her chest.

She met his gaze, a storm brewing in the depths of her eyes. "No, I'll be fine," she forced out, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. A tremor ran through her as she rose to her feet, her eyes darted away for a moment before returning to his. "Just a bit shaken," she admitted in a bare whisper.

"Sit down, Martini," Lord Maximus commanded, his voice a steely whip that cracked across the silence. "We're far from finished here."