Crown of Claws

She couldn't breathe.

She tried another handle, locked.

She had to get inside. Outside. Somewhere else. Anywhere else.

The third handle, and a sigh of relief when the knob turned.

Elara closed her eyes as she pressed the cool wooden door behind her closed with a soft click. With an exasperated sigh, she had bought herself time. She leaned back against the door, staring up at the beautifully carved ceiling, shrouded in the respite.

"Door's open," a husky voice chuckled from the darkness.

At first, Elara just went rigid, but when the chuckle turned into the sounds of the shifting leather chair, she snapped her head back down and locked eyes straight ahead.

With his.

Dark. Commanding. Unwavering.

She didn't blink, didn't move an inch, but kept her palms grounded against the smooth mahogany as she watched him rise like smoke from his chair. His built frame hinted through his well-fitted dress shirt, dimly lit by the glow of a singular desk lamp. His size didn't alter his composure, nor the grace of his movements.

The man rounded the table, pushing the sleeves of his rolled button up over his elaborately tattooed forearms. He studied her, circled her, like the prey she was. Until he came a few paces before her, crossed his arms, and cocked a smirk.

"Lost?"

__________

A Cinderella retelling. The official re-write of Captive.