Chapter 10

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Wriothesley noticed your shaking hands as you bounced your leg up and down. He could barely look you in the eye as you continued to smile at him.

She's a damn sociopath.

Sighing, he pushed himself back into his chair with a slight creak. "Calm down."

"Sure."

"I mean it."

"Okay."

"Seriously."

"Gotcha."

The smile never left your lips as your shaking grew more violently. Wriothesley stood up, walking over to the coffee table.

He grabbed a clean teacup and teapot, walking over to a small station meant for boiling water. After a moment of silence passed and the bubbles were heard, he poured the liquid into the cup and set a bag into it, watching the color change from clear to brown.

He walked over to you and handed you the cup of tea.

"Here."

You hesitated as you took it from him, your hands shaking as some of the hot tea spilled onto your skin. The pain from it caused you to get distracted, and you eagerly sipped down the hot fluid.

The burning sensation in your throat eased your shaking hands down as you focused on the feeling.

Wriothesley walked back to his chair, sitting down and slowly sipping on the tea himself. He looked at you as your smile faded, watching you drink away from the cup.

"Better?" He asked.

"...Yeah." You replied softly.

"Good." He cleared his throat, placing his cup down. "I never took you for the type to have anger issues."

Your leg bounced up and down again. "Why is that?"

Wriothesley bit his lip, causing whatever sentence he was going to speak from falling out his mouth. "Nothing. I know how to deal with it, is all."

"With tea?" You asked.

"You drank it while the water was basically still boiling. You must like the distraction of the burning in your throat, right?" Wriothesley removed his coat from his shoulders, allowing it to rest on the arms of his chair.

You used silence as your response.

"Do you know Chronie?" He asked after you didn't respond.

"Who?"

"The woman who you fought with."

"Yes and no." You replied.

Wriothesley folded his arms across his chest. "Explain."

You exhaled. "We just traded outfits. I didn't know it was her who bought me this one."

"Details." Wriothesley pressed.

Groaning, you continued. "I walked in my room one night and saw a box on my bed that had this outfit. There was a note that asked me to give up my old one for this one. I agreed, since those clothes were old anyways."

Wriothesley hummed, a low tone coming out his mouth. "Is it actually made from an animal?"

You laughed. "Of course not."

"Hm. That's too bad." He said. "That would've been something we have in common."

Pulling up his coat, he caressed the fur along the seams.

"I thought we shared the tea thing in common." You said, watching his hands move back and forth along the fur.

"That's not something I would like to share." He responded.

"Then what about fighting?" You inquired.

"...I only do that to blow off steam."

"Ah. So your fight with me was nothing but a game with a punching bag, then."

Wriothesley chuckled to your surprise. Lowering his tone even further, he spoke. "How's life in the Fortress treating you?"

You raised your brow. "Like hell."

"It's a prison, after all." He stated. "You'll get used to it."

Your nostrils flared. "I'd rather not get used to the constant accusations that I've been passed around like a used rag."

Wriothesley's smile faded. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

You sighed. "I only expose myself like this because I'm used to the scorching sun and heat in the desert. Now that I'm here, people just think my body is some kind of free sample to take a bite out of." Rolling your eyes, you continued. "I haven't been able to make one single female friend because of how I dress. They all look at me like I'm some sort of..." Your words trailed off, realizing that you didn't want to address yourself as the word you were thinking.

Wriothesley looked at you. Studying your expression, he pulled his coat from his chair and tossed it at you.

"Then cover up. It's cold down here."

You were surprised by his actions, the soft yet rough fur brushing on your arm.

Thinking to yourself, you smacked your lips. "Fight me again."

Wriothesley's muscles tensed at your demand. "Why?"

"Because you're strong." You said. "I like strong opponents."

Wriothesley thought about your statement. He was already losing his title as the Duke, and if he was to lose another fight, his reputation would for sure be thrown out the window.

He couldn't accept your request at all. He didn't want to put his job at risk.

But he found himself thinking about fighting you. The passion you had shown, your body lunging towards his, and his peculiar excitement growing when the gap between the two of you closed when attacks were made.

He shook his head. No, I'm not going to risk it.

But his heart was hungry for that sensation in the ring again.

It was hungry...

For you.

...

"...Alright."

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