Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 30: Chain of Seven.

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the world. They spilled over, tracing a hot path down my cheeks, landing on his clenched fists. He flinched, his gaze dropping to the glistening drops. With a gentleness that surprised me, he brushed them away, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

"You're more beautiful than sin, Martini," he muttered, his voice thick with a pain that seemed to transcend this moment. "But I'm a storm you can't weather. This heart of mine..." He paused, his eyes hardening for a split second, revealing a dusk hidden within. "It's a wasteland, scorched by a past I can't escape. You deserve sunshine, not the shadows I carry."

A strangled plea escaped my lips as Lord Maximus rose from the bed. "Stay," I choked out, tears blurring my vision.

His face an unreadable mask, turned away. "Am I so tempting you'd have me defy my own laws?" A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

"Defy them then," I pleaded with trembling voice, my grip tightening on his hand. The intricate tattoo on his wrist seemed to pulse with a hidden power. "Rule 7 is a chain, Lord Maximus. You are the Lord of the Shaque. Break it."

His jaw clenched. "There's more to this than desire, Martini." He squeezed my hand, I could feel the warmth and it's rough skin. "Love," he scoffed. "A concept absent from my world. I won't use you like the others, a mere plaything for solstice celebrations." his tone made my heart race.

The floorboards groaned a mournful protest as he rose, his broad silhouette standing in sharp relief against the faint light filtering through the window.

A cold dread snaked its way through me, coiling tightly in my gut. My breath hitched, the unvoiced fear a bitter truth on my tongue. "Not happening," I murmured, the words barely audible against the pounding of my heart.

"Scared?" His voice, silken yet laced with steel, sent a tremor down my core.

My throat went dry. "Not a bit," I lied, my voice barely a whisper. My face might have been a mask of resistance, but my insides were churning like a storm-tossed sea.

He turned, sunlight glinting off a hard edge in his eyes. "Then why the fight when I suggested this little trip?"

My tongue felt like lead. Words wouldn't form. All I could manage was a pathetic squeak.

He prowled the room like a caged panther, finally settling by the window, bathed in the harsh morning light. "Get dressed," he commanded, his voice dropping to a deadly hush. "And then, get out."

Tears welled up again, a relentless tide threatening to overflow. Through blurry vision, I saw his imposing silhouette bathed in a single, blaming ray of sunlight that sliced through the dust motes dancing in a chaotic flurry.

My cheeks burned, spreading up my neck. Had I been too quick? My fingers instinctively curling into fists, the love that had blinded me now a dull ache in my chest.

Trembling, I rose from the bed and approached the table, my fingers fumbling for my undergarments adorned by the bottle of whiskey. Each tortured, deliberate motion betrayed the fear coursing through me. The dress on the floor mocked me.

Slipping into it, I straightened my hair, a whirlwind of doubt swirling in my head. Maybe I hadn't been cautious enough.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to face him, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes, my Lord?"

A curt nod. "Work begins. Be ready by seven. We have a destination." He declared.

"But I don't have any suitable dresses here," I stammered, confusion etching lines on my face.

He cut me off, his voice surprisingly calming. "Hardin will deliver a package. Everything you need. Don't worry."

"Paris?" I questioned, curiosity battling apprehension.  "Why did you bring me here?"

A sly grin stretched across his face. "You're my doctor, and for my safety, of course."

I dipped my head in a silent bow, a jolt shot up my spine.  Turning to leave, I couldn't help but be aware of his gaze lingering on my body. 

"Confessions are more rewarding than forced expressions," he called after me.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my face devoid of any emotion.  Slowly, I turned back, met his gaze for a fleeting moment, then exited the room, leaving Lord Maximus alone with his enigmatic smile.

He sighed, collapsing onto the bed. "No rules broken," he muttered, the dissent in his voice unconvincing even to himself.

The urge for escape nibbled at him. He grabbed a cigarette, the lighter glinting accusingly beside the abandoned bottle of Jack Daniels.  He retreated to the balcony, the Parisian air juxtaposed the heat simmering within him. The city lights twinkled below, but offered no solace.

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