Heated

29

Is it possible for a single word to make you feel like nothing and everything all at once?

I can't be dwindled down into a mere possession, only having value if I am his. However the power he holds in the Galaxy, and he wants me.

"Get off me," I shove his shoulders, creating enough space to walk around him. He smirks at me in response and brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, even closing his eyes making a show out of his dirty actions.

No matter how much my stomach flexes in desire, I roll my eyes.

"That's manipulation."

"I didn't do anything you didn't want." He holds his hands up defensively, only making me angrier.

"No-not that," I scoff, "Using that," I motion my hands in the air, "as a way to distract me from the real problem."

"Yeah? And what's this problem again?"

With furious brows, I raise my hands showcasing my bloodied palms caused by his temperament.

"Maybe you shouldn't have tried to play hero."

Is he really accusing me of this being my fault? Because I Wanted to help him? If he could control his emotions a little better, people wouldn't be harmed.

"You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you are a coward."

Vader clenches his jaw and looks at me with anger, yet he doesn't respond.

"You act like you don't feel things, you put up a wall, but you actually feel everything, and it scares you. I think you are scared." I yell, feeling fired up.

"You know nothing about me."

"I know enough." I finish.

His stare is venomous, ilicting goosebumps across my skin. With a tight jaw, he grits, "It's time to go."

Without responding I turn around and walk towards the door, ready to leave this place finally and escape Vader.

I barely make it three feet when his hand grips my arm. His touch feels like fire and I attempt to rip it away but his grip is firm and unrelenting. Hostility lingers in the air as we face each other.

Breaking my silence, I snap, "Let go of me."

Listening he lets go and his hands go to the lapels of his robe and he tugs it off, "Put this on."

I glare at him, hesitating. Why would I want to listen to his demands anymore?

"Please?"

Fuck. Okay.

Releasing a dramatic huff, I grab his robe and throw the heavy material over my body. His scent lingers on the robe. The smell is overpowering, just enough I want to forget our fight and let it engulf me.

A small smile tugs at his mouth, but doesn't let it resonate. Without another word he leaves to his closet and comes back clad with another black robe. I'd laugh at his humorous wardrobe situation if I wasn't so irritated.

"Well I don't suppose you have shoes my size? Or would you like me to wear my heels with this fabulous outfit?"

He throws his hand back and drags his hand down his face frustratedly. He mutters, "For fucks sake." He enters his closet once more, walking out with a pair of socks and throws them at my head, "There, those are your shoes," then storms off to the living area, "and I'm burning that dress." he yells down the hallway.

I want to chuckle, but the fight we had is still very fresh in my mind, I feel livid from his harsh words. Any time I think his wall is coming down a little bit, he puts it back up, taller and stronger.