Dark Promises

Chapter 75: Elena

Come here," Adrian says, his voice low but firm, snapping me from my thoughts. He's already standing by a sleek case that holds a variety of guns, each one polished and deadly.

I approach him, my stomach doing flips, and he hands me a pistol, his fingers brushing mine for just a second. Even that light touch sends a shiver down my spine.

"Grip it like this," he instructs, stepping behind me, his chest pressing lightly against my back as his hands come up to adjust my hold. His fingers curl around mine, positioning them expertly over the gun, his body heat seeping into me with every inch of contact.

I swallow hard, trying to focus on his words, but the feel of him so close, the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck, makes it nearly impossible. His presence is overwhelming, and every fiber of my being is suddenly aware of just how close he is.

"Relax your grip, but not too much," he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble in my ear. His hands stay on mine a beat too long, guiding me with slow, deliberate movements. I feel his chest rise and fall behind me, the solid heat of him grounding me in the moment, though my mind is anything but calm.

"Good," he says, his voice a little rougher this time. "You're holding it right."

I nod, my breath hitching slightly as his hands slowly move away from mine, lingering just long enough to send a trail of heat down my spine. I can feel his gaze on me as I try to steady the gun in my hands, but my heart is racing, each beat echoing loudly in my ears.

"Feet shoulder-width apart," he commands, and without thinking, I adjust my stance. I feel his eyes flick down, studying the way my body moves, and there's something in the air between us that crackles with tension.

I glance at the target in front of me, trying to focus, but all I can feel is Adrian's gaze on my back, the way the room feels suddenly too warm, too small. He steps up behind me again, his body close enough that I can feel the heat of him radiating against my skin.

His hand ghosts over my hip, just a light touch, but it sends a spark through me. My breathing quickens involuntarily.

I can feel every movement he makes, the solid strength of him just behind me, and it's making it nearly impossible to focus.

"Now, squeeze the trigger," he instructs, his voice so close it sends a shiver through me.

I do as he says, my finger pressing down slowly, and the shot rings out, reverberating through the gym. The recoil surprises me, jolting my body slightly, and before I can fully process it, Adrian's hands are back on me, steadying me, his fingers firm against my skin.

His hands linger on my waist for a moment, and then he steps away. "Again."

I adjust my stance, the cool metal of the gun still unfamiliar in my hands, but it's not the weapon that's making me uneasy. It's him.

I grip the gun a little tighter this time, determined to focus, to get it right. But as I raise the weapon, aiming at the target ahead, I feel him step closer again, close enough that the heat of his body presses against my back.

"Relax your shoulders," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. His hands find their way to my arms, gently guiding me, his touch deliberate yet almost tender. I can feel the tension rolling off him, though his touch remains steady, controlled. His fingers trace the length of my arms as he adjusts my stance again, sending a flood of warmth coursing through me.

"Better," he says, his mouth so close to my ear that I can feel his breath, warm and intoxicating.

inhale deeply, steadying my hands as I aim again. I focus on the target, the cold steel of the gun against my palms, and try to ignore the way my heart hammers against my chest. But just as I'm about to squeeze the trigger, Adrian's hands slide down my arms, settling once more on my waist, his touch firm but sending sparks of heat across my skin.

I turn sharply, glaring at him. "How do you think having your hands all over me is helping?" I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. The heat of frustration mixes with something else—something I'm not entirely sure I want to name.

Adrian's lips curve into a slight smirk, his eyes narrowing. He doesn't move, his hands still resting on my waist, his thumbs brushing idly against my sides as if he has no intention of pulling back. "Is it distracting you?"

"You know it does."

"Good." His voice drops, a low rumble that vibrates through me. His grip tightens on my waist just slightly, enough to remind me of the heat between us. "You need to learn to do it right even when you're distracted."

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "I thought this was a shooting lesson, not some twisted form of psychological warfare."

You'll need to be focused no matter what's happening around you, Elena. Control the chaos, or it'll control you."

I glare at him, but his words hit deeper than I want to admit. "And what if the distraction is you?" I ask, my voice quieter now.

Adrian's gaze sharpens, dark and intense as he leans in slightly, his breath warm against my neck. "Then you'll have to try even harder to stay in control," he murmurs, his words laced with challenge. "Do you think you can do that, hm?" His fingers tighten on my waist for just a moment, a deliberate reminder of the distraction he's causing, before slowly releasing me.

He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine, and nods toward the target. "Again."

My heart pounds in my chest, and I struggle to pull my focus back to the task at hand. I lift the gun, aiming it carefully, but all I can think about is the feel of his hands on me, his voice low and commanding in my ear.

I try to push the thoughts away, to focus on the target in front of me, but the tension between us keeps pulling me back in. I squeeze the trigger, and the shot rings out, but I can feel the difference. The control isn't there.

"Focus," Adrian says, his voice calm but firm. "If you let yourself get lost in the distraction, you'll miss your shot. And in the real world, that could cost you everything."

I swallow hard, his words grounding me.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and lift the gun again. This time, I push everything else out of my mind—his closeness, the way he makes my skin hum with awareness—and focus on the target. My finger squeezes the trigger, and the shot is cleaner, more precise.

I can feel Adrian's eyes on me, watching closely. His approval is unspoken, but it's there in the silence that follows, heavy with tension. "Better," he says, his voice low, but the edge of challenge is still there.

I glance at him, and the heat in his gaze sends a fresh wave of awareness through me. "I'm starting to think you enjoy distracting me," I say, my voice a little breathless.

Adrian smirks, his eyes gleaming. "Maybe I do. But you're still going to have to learn how to perform under pressure."

He steps closer again, his hand brushing lightly against my arm, just enough to send a shiver down my spine. "Again."