WHAT WE NEVER SAID |18+

I Hate You

Zara's POV

He didn't respond. He simply stared at me, his eyes dark with something more dangerous than anger. "I never said I wanted to win," he said quietly. "I just want to make sure you never forget who I am."

I stepped back instinctively, the weight of his words settling over me like a stormcloud. But Zayden followed, closing the space between us with a deliberate slowness that felt more like a threat than comfort. His eyes never left mine, dark and unreadable, and I could feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

“You act tough, Zara," he said, his voice dipping lower, more dangerous. "But every time I get close, you falter. Why is that?”

I clenched my fists, willing myself to hold my ground. “I don’t falter,” I hissed, the defiance in my voice masking the trembling in my chest. “You’re not as irresistible as you think, Zayden.”

He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. It was a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I think I am. And you know it. That’s why you keep running. Not from me, Zara...from yourself.”

My breath hitched, but I refused to let him see how his words hit home. I raised my chin, forcing myself to glare at him. “You think you know me so well?” I asked, my voice sharp but uneven. “You’re nothing but a spoiled playboy with a God complex. Don’t mistake that for being special.”

Zayden’s smirk widened, but his eyes burned with something far more primal. “A spoiled playboy, huh? Is that why you’re shaking right now?”

“I’m not shaking,” I snapped, though I knew he was right.

He stepped closer, so close that his breath brushed against my cheek. “Liar,” he whispered, and his tone was so soft, so intimate, it made my pulse race. “If you hate me so much, why are you still here?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. His gaze dropped to my lips, and my traitorous body leaned just slightly toward him. His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, lingering just long enough to send a jolt through me.

“You can fight me all you want,” he murmured, his voice dripping with confidence. “But this—” his other hand rested lightly on my waist, making my skin burn where his fingers touched, “—this says otherwise.”

I swallowed hard, torn between slapping him and pulling him closer. The fire in his eyes made it impossible to look away.

"You’re playing with fire,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, hating the way it wavered.

Zayden tilted his head, his lips just a breath away from mine. “Then burn with me,” he challenged, his words igniting something deep inside me.

Before I could respond, his lips crashed against mine, and this time, there was no hesitation, no pretense of control. It was raw, electric, and utterly overwhelming. My fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer despite every voice in my head screaming to push him away.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathless, our foreheads pressed together. “Still think you don’t want me?” he asked, his smirk returning, but this time, it was softer, more victorious.

I stared at him, my resolve slipping away like water through my fingers. “I hate you,” I whispered, but even I didn’t believe it anymore.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Zayden said, his voice low and dangerous. “But we both know the truth, Zara. You don’t hate me—you hate that you can’t resist me.”

Zayden's words hung heavy in the air, an unspoken truth laced with challenge. My chest heaved as I struggled to steady my breathing, to regain some semblance of control. But his proximity, the heat radiating from his body, made it impossible.