Taking Light {Sequel: "For Love of Evil"}

-18-

When Roman arrived home, his level of anger raised when seeing that Peter's truck was no longer in the driveway. He stormed inside, taking long strides toward the kitchen.

He stopped; seeing Lyra standing in front of the fridge, looking over her shoulder at him. She smiled wide—the smile quickly faded when seeing the darkness brewing in his eyes.

Lyra closed the fridge, walking over to the island. She braced herself against the surface, watching as Roman stomped over to where she stood.

"Where the fuck's Peter?" Roman tossed his keys onto the sofa, bracing his palms on the island as he leaned  forward, staring daggers at Lyra.

"I sent him home... I don't need a sitter, Roman." Lyra spoke flatly. Roman threw his hands up in anger, rolling his eyes with a clenched jaw.

"You lied to me. You said you were gonna be fine, that nothing was gonna happen to you." Roman spat, pointing his finger at Lyra accusingly.

"I didn't lie, I am gonna be fine, nothing is going to happen to me." Lyra's brows furrowed, her eyes narrowing into angry slits at Roman's accusations.

Roman pursed his lips, trailing toward the divider. He smacked his palm on the surface, causing the abstract painting to fall to the floor.

"Sixty percent... you have a sixty percent chance of surviving this. That's not enough!" Roman screeched.

"I am going to be fine. You are overreacting. I'm sick of you underestimating me. What do you think, Roman, do you think I'm not capable of handling myself? Do you see me as some weak damsel who needs you to rescue her at every fucking turn?" Lyra was yelling now, exaggerating her last three words. She stepped around the island, walking to Roman in a graceful fluid motion. "I'm stronger than you think, I'm-"

"That thing is gonna kill you!" Roman stood his ground, towering over Lyra in defiance—she was trying to make a point, one Roman wasn't willing to accept. "I can't- I can't lose you again. I won't lose you again-"

"Do you have any idea why you feel that way?... It's because of him; because of Ares." Lyra admitted, watching Roman's eyes dance along her face in confusion. A flicker of doubt flashed in Roman's large eyes; his his deep red lips appearing fuller as his mouth parted. It took a moment for Roman to fully understand what Lyra was trying to say.

"No. You're trying to fuck with me."

"We're programmed to feel this way. You feel like you need me, but you don't. Ares... he did this to us. You don't need me, Roman... and I don't need you-"

"No, no," Roman shook his head, all the while blinking rapidly.

"It's true. I should've told you-"

"No." Roman growled, grabbing Lyra's throat. His massive hand wrapped easily around Lyra thin neck, his fingers lightly pressing into her pale flesh. Roman realized what he was doing; the action assertive and dominating.

He released his grip, taking her face in his hands. He was trembling—his unsteady hands causing Lyra's head to shake subtly in his clutch.

"Destiny said she can reverse it." Lyra whispered, her voice shaky; her tone uneasy. "But she needs your consent." Lyra's eyes began to water, her lower lids brimming with tears as she stared up into Roman's pale round eyes.

Roman kept his eyes on Lyra's face; his eyes moving from her eyes to her lips as he took in her appearance. He was beginning to scare Lyra; Roman's vacant gaze holding too many thoughts. She placed her hands on his, frightened by Roman's capability of snapping at any moment.