Blood For Blood

Chapter Seven - August 19th, 64 A.D

Demitrius didn't release my arm until we were halfway down the dimly lit hallway from the council room, his grip firm and unyielding. My pulse hammered with anger as I yanked my arm free, planting my feet and wheeling around to face him. The clack of my boots echoed sharply against the stone walls, punctuating the heated silence between us.

"Don't you ever interrupt me or grab me like that again," I snarled, my voice low but laced with venom.

Demitrius simply arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He crossed his arms as if I'd just amused him rather than threatened him.

"You were getting in way over your head back there," he tilted his head, studying me with a lazy confidence that made my blood boil, "Maybe you should be thanking me."

My jaw clenched, and I took a step closer, refusing to let his smug demeanor intimidate me.

"Thank you?" I scoffed, my voice dripping with disbelief, "You think I needed your help in there?"

I stabbed a finger into his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath, but I didn't back down, "I don't need you deciding when I can or can't speak, Demitrius. You don't get to play the hero just because you felt uncomfortable."

I held his gaze, fire sparking in my eyes, "Next time, keep your hands to yourself, or I'll make sure you regret it."

Demitrius chuckled, a low, infuriating sound that sent a fresh wave of irritation through me.

"Regret it?" he echoed, his smirk widening as he reached out, his gloved hand sliding beneath my chin before I could pull away. His fingers, firm yet teasing, tilted my face up toward his.

"Bold words, Tara," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with that infuriating mix of amusement and challenge, "But let's be honest—if I didn't step in, that council would have eaten you alive. Your father would have done more than locked you away for a few hours. Maybe you don't want to admit it, but deep down, you know you needed me back there."

His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before returning to meet my glare, his smirk never faltering, "Go on. Thank me."

My blood boiled as his hand held my chin, that smug look never leaving his face.

"You arrogant, self-centered—" I spat, my voice rising with each word, fury surging through me, "You think you can just—"

Before I could finish, Demitrius surged forward, slamming me against the wall. My breath caught in my throat as he pressed his body against mine, pinning my wrist above my head with one hand. His other hand swiftly covered my mouth, silencing me as his piercing gaze locked onto mine.

"Listen closely," he whispered, his voice low and intense, inches from my face, "You're in over your head, and as of right now, you don't need another enemy."

His grip was firm, but his eyes held a dangerous spark, "So how about you stop fighting me and start thinking?"

His breath brushed my cheek, and I could feel the heat radiating from him, a mix of tension and something else—something I couldn't quite place.

With a playful glint in his eye, he tilted his head, a teasing smile dancing on his lips, "So tell me, are you going to be good if I move my hand?"

He held my gaze, the challenge in his expression both infuriating and strangely exhilarating, "Or should I keep it here a little longer to ensure you behave?"

In a burst of defiance, I bit down on his gloved hand, my anger fueling the action. He hissed, momentarily surprised, but the smirk didn't fade.

"Feisty, aren't you?" he chuckled, eyes sparkling with mischief.