The Dragon's Match

XV

XV

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

For a mere second, Lillian stood transfixed before the door that had closed abruptly in her face, dumbfounded and trembling.

But now it was not just her fingers that harboured the involuntary tremors, but her entire body seemed to vibrate- to shake with the anger and indignation coursing through her veins like hot liquid flames. And then... then there was something else entirely, something that made her breath hitch and catch in her lungs when he had stood too close, something that had sent her pulse ricocheting as she had verbally sparred with him.

If Lillian wasn't aware of it before, she certainly was now. Aëghan was no mild-mannered gentleman loitering in ballrooms and luncheons. He was volatile, ignitable, and wholly consuming. And if she stood in his path long enough, she would be torn asunder by all that he was.

Her breaths were heaving from her aching lungs, and she blinked back the pinpricks of tears burning her eyes. It was good that he left her and put an end to their heated conversation- it was for the best. Her presence here was a matter of her own convenience, nothing more. She didn't need to befriend tempestuous and befuddling dragons who titillated her with every encounter, didn't need to indulge in conversations with the man that would no doubt only result in a fiery debate because her own inherent stubbornness wouldn't allow her to bend or quit.

Even as she was provoked to unfounded heights of anger by the male and his words, she couldn't help but feel... so very alive. Every part of her had responded- to his jibes, his words, his nearness, the way his coat and shirt hung haphazardly over his limbs in much the same way as his hair. Aëghan was a man of apparently impeccable taste and bespoke finery, even when it came to selecting his attire, yet he seemed to toss it over his form with nary a care if it wrinkled or was indeed buttoned to its entirety. And for whatever sordid reason, Lillian found that incredibly endearing. Perhaps it was because she had been so subjected to gentlemen that were always so flawlessly put together in their attire, yet more often than not she had found herself averse to their attentions regardless- put off by their mannerisms, their persistence and personalities. 

Aëghan was everything but a gentleman. 

For so very long she had quelled any wild emotion that would lead her into trouble, especially in the Otherworld. Now, upon her return, she wasn't sure she was capable of feeling anything in its entirety- not anger, not happiness or elation- so consumed was she by the lingering effects of her panic and survival-based instincts. It was wholly disconcerting and, at the same time, voraciously appealing to feel such undiluted torrents running through her once more. Things that weren't fear.

But that left her exposed and vulnerable, her decisions uncoordinated and uncontrolled, and Lillian wasn't ready to relinquish her control.

No, it was best that Aëghan keep to himself for the duration of her stay as his guest, and she would do the same.

So why her hands were reaching for the brass handles of the doors that had but moments before been thudded shut before her nose left Lillian in a numbed state of confounded need- the need to see him and be near him, to continue where he wouldn't.

Before the tips of her fingers were able to brush against the cool metal, the doors were thrust open, a blast of air whipping through the strands of hair that curled over her cheeks.

And Aëghan stood before her, his arms thrown wide as he braced them on either door that framed him, his chest heaving with deep, silent breaths.

"Say my name again," he rasped.