Submitting To The Devil - The Devil's Snare - Book 2

Chapter Seventy

Bianca

Benji kept his promise, albeit briefly, when he returned with two steaming plates of food, plush pillows, and a soft duvet; I nearly lost my temper. My heart raced as I paced the small, unfamiliar room, wondering what one does when confined in a space that, while foreign, felt oddly intimate.

At first, I resolved to give him the cold shoulder, halting my restless movement in front of the antique chest of drawers that stood against the wall. Its surface was cluttered with knickknacks and photo frames, and they were still crying for pictures to fill them. The door swung shut behind him with a dull thud, echoing my frustration. I found myself unable to look away from him as he carefully set the plates down beside me, the rich aroma of the food mixing with the faint scent of lavender from the duvet.

"I said leave! I never consented to your return," I spat, frustration lacing my words as I propelled my fist toward his face with a fierce movement. His eyes widened in surprise, and in a split second, he turned away, dodging the blow just in time. My fist whistled through the air, mere inches from connecting with his cheek, as his quick reflexes saved him from the impact. The tension between us crackled, electric and unresolved, heightening the weight of my anger.

"Don't do that again," he warned, a sharp note of authority lacing his voice. Naturally, I found myself defying him again, pushing the limits recklessly. I continued this reckless dance, repeating my actions, relishing the thrill of his frustration. Soon, we were all out engaged in a spirited sparring session in the expansive room, the air thick with concentration and the faint scent of sweat. As he deftly manoeuvred backwards to create distance, I eagerly seized the opportunity to occupy the space he had vacated. With each calculated move, I took control of the encounter, efficiently forcing him to navigate around the room as I steadily worked up a sweat, adrenaline surging through my veins. It was an exhilarating game of cat and mouse, a dance between challenge and defiance.

Until I swung out of turn, my anger fueling the misguided attempt to actually hurt him, I lost my balance and crashed into his chest. The sudden impact sent both of us sprawling to the floor, and in the chaos, he instinctively wrapped his arms around me, ensuring my head didn't collide with the unforgiving bedframe while absorbing the blow himself. With a swift motion, he rolled me onto my back, lifting his weight enough to avoid crushing me as he instinctively tried to escape the awkwardness of the predicament I had created.

My heart raced in my chest, pounding insistently as a mix of emotions surged through me. Despite my fury, I struggled to reconcile it with the overwhelming urge to lash out; he had put himself in danger to protect me rather than save himself.

He pushed himself up and settled beside my feet, his breaths coming in uneven gasps and his eyes darting with a calculated intensity that both unnerved and captivated me.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, the admission spilling out before I could rein in my pride. I realised almost instantly that I was in the wrong.

This was a singular individual, the only person here genuinely attempting to improve my situation despite the circumstances. Goodness, he had even brought me food—something I could hardly overlook.

"You have a temper," he noted, standing up with a determined resolve to return the plates of food to their rightful place. After a moment, he rejoined me on the floor.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I chose a little of everything," he shrugged, barely able to hide his anxiety as he took a seat next to me again, watching as I reluctantly took the plate with a frown that hinted at my internal struggle and stifled emotions.

"Thank you," I mouthed quietly, the words almost lost in the air between us.

"He's going to enjoy that," he said between bites, a reassuring sadness tugging at his lips. "You need to keep that side away from him."