Devil's Plaything

Before

"You think you can trap me in here?" Mira demanded, propping herself up on her arms.

He shrugged with obnoxious casualness. "You're free to leave the house if you want to. But I'm not letting you snoop around."

"Because you have something to hide," she confirmed. His expression revealed nothing. "And what about Marci and Charlie?"

He sighed loudly and crossed his arms over his chest. "The only door that they can open in the room they're in is an exit." He spoke with restraint, like he was tired of hearing about her concern for her friends. It infuriated her. "I wouldn't lock them up, Mira."

"I wouldn't put it past you." Her voice rivaled his in its impatience.

His lips turned up in a slow, handsome grin. "If I remember correctly, you're the one who tried to lock me up."

She returned the sardonic smile. His eyes flickered to her lips, his aggravation waning momentarily before doubling after he became aware of his distraction. "Well, if I remember correctly," she returned, mimicking his tone. "You were going to kill my friend."

He rolled his eyes like she was being absolutely ridiculous, and he could no longer stomach it. "You and I both know that I wouldn't actually have harmed any one of you." She was prepared to snap back, but he didn't give her time to interrupt. "And that was for you, by the way. I tolerate them because I care about you—even though they have literally tried to kill me."

"You are just so generous, Noah," she mocked. Her heart was thrumming so loudly that she could feel her pulse in her ears. "And was taking my soul an act of kindness, too?" It was a low blow. But they were far past pleasantries and decency at this point.

He stilled, his aggravated expression freezing unnaturally on his face. She could see the drastic change in his mood he was trying to conceal, and she resented it. His guilt had a way of making her regret her words instantly, no matter how true they were.

"If you think I don't hate myself for that night every second, then you don't understand anything about me." His expression revealed nothing, but his voice was unusually soft.

Mira shook her head. "Well, I don't understand you. You have never once explained yourself to me, so how can you expect me to know how you feel?" She leaned forward, bracing her arms against her legs. She was still tipsy, but she was sobering quickly. Sobriety was not going to help fuel her anger, and she regretted not having drank more.

She wanted to fight with him. As much as she wanted to avoid acknowledging it, being angry with him allowed her to express the passion he provoked in her without putting her feelings at risk.

Any emotion he had been in danger of expressing was repressed, and he had returned to his poker face. He was being extra careful around her, she realized. And considering that he was typically very expressive during their conversations, he had to be acting intentionally neutral. "You understand me more than you would like to admit," he told her.

She grew serious, trying to imitate his calm composure. "I don't know what that means." Noah hated it when she pretended to be unaware of their connection, and she wanted him to be the angrier one for once. She wanted to know he felt passionately about her, too.

His neutrality returned to annoyance instantly, and she may have actually grinned in satisfaction. "You're trying to get me to lose my patience," he said knowingly.

There was no point in hiding it; secrecy on her end would only give him more leverage to use against her. After all, he loved exposing her hidden motives. "I am."