𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜

Isolde was unable to tear her eyes off of Xaden as he moved flawlessly along the gauntlet, as if he had years more of experience compared to the rest of them. He only faltered once or twice on a couple of sections, but he never let it hold him back for too long before trying once again and completing the task he was on.

Her jaw laxed as she watched over him, before she knew it, he was leaping up to the ledge and making his way over to her with barely a drop of sweat glistening on his brow. Never mind. Attraction and admiration were quickly replaced by annoyance that whilst she was red in the face and looked like she had been dragged through a bush backwards, he looked as holy as always.

He stood up off of the ground, and started to walk towards her, but if he was expecting a display of congratulations from her, he was sorely mistaken. He stood firmly by her side and watched her fold her arms and huff as if she was somehow annoyed that he hadn't fallen and died.

"What's gotten you all agitated." He probed, knowing it would just irritate her further. For some reason, he enjoyed it massively. The way her lips pursed, her eyebrows furrowed, and the fact that when she was truly furious her eyes never left his. That was secretly his favourite part, though he'd never admit it.

"How come we all look like we've been dragged to hell and back and here you are with no need to catch your breath looking like Amari hand crafted you herself?" His cheeks rose as his expression turned into a large grin.

"Why Aritia, are you jealous?" The ghost of his palm caressed her shoulder. "No, you're just really pissing me off." She moved out of his personal space. "I can't say that I'm going to apologise for not falling to my death but I'm sorry that I look so beautiful." Isolde rolled her eyes.

"I never called you beautiful you egotistical fuck." Half-truth. "My apologies but being told that I look like 'Amari hand crafted me herself', your words not mine- it's hard for my ego to not grow. This is your own fault." Just one punch. One punch to his gorgeous face was all she needed. Unfortunately, some part of her with common sense told her that it wasn't the best idea.

"No reply?" He tilted his head, forcing her to look into his eyes once more. "Why don't you go and stand a bit closer to the edge, I'll come with you." Her expression was one of a deadpanned nature. "Maybe we'll see if my hand will slip in your direction, and we can all bask in the sounds of your screams as you plummet to your death." She clasped her hands in front of her chest and smiled.

Xaden matched her expression sarcastically before letting it fall. "We could really get along if you didn't keep threatening to kill me during every conversation that we had." He made a good point, but Isolde was not in a reasonable mood. "Where's all the fun in that? Imagining your screams is my favourite way to fall asleep." His lips quirked up. "I can think of far more interesting things for you to think about as you fall asleep." Her lungs stopped working. "Perhaps with my lips-"