Because she realized, she wasn’t the only one reckless between them.
Things, while the same, had changed. Inadvertently, tonight, they’d both decided.
She was bleeding.
A drop of blood slid down her arm.
Morana turned her head and watched in slight fascination, as the drop rolled over the curve of her elbow, leaving a fresh streak of red over her skin. Her eyes followed the lone drop as it traveled down smoothly, down the back of her hand, down her empty ring finger, right to the tip. It hung on the precarious edge, teetering, trembling in the slightly cool conditioned air, fighting gravity with all its little might to keep clinging to her skin.
It lost.
The drop lost the battle with a force that was much stronger than itself – a force it did not even understand – and fell to the clean floor of the elevator, splattering in defeat, marring the clean white lines with its crimson.
Another drop took its place and joined its brother on the ground.
And another.
Morana stared at the drop of blood for a moment, her arm throbbing where the gash from the graze was open, the entire evening and the consequence of it finally sinking into her mind slowly.
That she had made it out of the casino alive was a miracle in itself. That she had made it out alive with nothing but a graze was a bigger miracle.
But now, in the privacy of her own mind, when the adrenaline had left her body cold and logic had rooted itself, Morana swallowed. Because there, on that seat in the dim casino, she’d made a choice, a choice that she’d had no idea she would make until that very moment. And her choice had incited a decision in the man who’d become the bane of her existence. Had it been a private choice, known only to herself, she wouldn’t have fretted so much. It would’ve been disconcerting for sure, but knowing that the knowledge of her choice lay solely within her would’ve been much better.
But it wasn’t so. Not only had her choice been obvious to him, his had been obvious to her as well, and she couldn’t imagine he liked it any better than she did at the moment. Frankly, she had no idea what the hell that could even mean.
The elevator doors opened, jolting her from her thoughts, and Morana took a deep breath, stepping out into the living room, the skyline of the city glittering like colorful diamonds outside the huge windows. Keeping her hand elevated to staunch the flow of blood, she walked straight to the kitchen, dumping her bag and phone on the counter, and pulled out the clean dish towel from the rack. Turning the faucet on, she wet the towel, and slowly cleaned the area, hissing at the slight pain the pressure caused, before pressing the towel hard down on the arm.
Pain shot up her shoulder, down to her fingers, and she grit her teeth, breathing evenly as the pain subsided into a low throb, the flow of blood already lessening.
Keeping the towel pressed on her arm, looking out the windows, Morana let her mind drift to that moment in the casino, that moment after he’d shot her. That moment when the man who’d brought her in had protested that she hadn’t taken a bullet, much to the agreement of the other men present.
Morana remembered the way Tristan Caine had smoothly looked at the man and just raised an eyebrow, leaning back into his chair. She remembered the way the quiet in the room had become tensed, how she’d held her breath, not knowing whether these people would let her go.
And then Tristan Caine had spoken, without removing his eyes from the man behind her.
“Leave.”
It’d taken her a moment to realize he’d been speaking to her. But for once, she hadn’t wanted to sit around and argue with him. Picking up her keys, Morana had moved her chair back, watching the entire time, not the people in the room but The Predator, as he’d watched the others, his quiet gaze daring anyone to make a move to stop her.
Not one man had moved.
Heart in her throat, she’d walked out quickly and sprinted to her car, not allowing herself a single moment to even think about what had happened. The drive to the apartment had been short and now, standing inside the safety of these walls, Morana didn’t have a clue as to what was going to happen.
What had happened in the casino after she left, she couldn’t imagine. A part of her wondered if the six men had confronted Tristan Caine. Another part of her was in awe of the power he actually held in the mob.
Hearing something and seeing something were two completely different things. And having seen the genuine fear in the eyes of men much older and more experienced than her father, for the first time, it dawned on Morana, truly dawned, who she was dealing with.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Those men back at the casino had dealt with blood and grit all their lives and they feared Tristan Caine. Morana couldn’t even fathom the kinds of things he must’ve done to perpetuate that fear at such a young age.
In hindsight, she could see how incredibly foolish she’d been, sneaking up on him to kill him. After her stunt today, she didn’t know if he was going to come back and finally kill her, or get rid of her, or send her back to her father with a neat little bow.
God, she was so completely out of her element.
And it scared the shit out of her.
The sudden sound of the elevator's opening made her start.
Her heart picked up the pace.
He was here.
It took an effort not to bolt to the guest bedroom and lock the door. For the first time, she was so utterly confused she wanted to run. Instead, spinning on the spot, she turned to face the elevator doors head-on.
And felt her breath caught in her throat mid inhale.
Tristan Caine stood there in the semi-darkness, his jacket missing and sleeves rolled up, his legs braced apart as the shadows playing over his hard face in the light from outside.
But it wasn’t that which made her breath catch. No.
It was his eyes.
Blue, magnificent eyes.
Blazing eyes.
A frisson of something slithered down her spine, making goosebumps erupt all over her arms, her heart exploding in her chest as the hand holding the towel to her arm dropped down. The towel fell from her slack grip to the floor, and Morana couldn’t remove her eyes to even look down to see if her wound was still bleeding.
She stayed still, eyes on him.
He stayed still, watching her.
Silence.
And then he took a step forward.
Her feet moved back.
His eyes flared at her involuntary action, his next step slower, more deliberate.
Heart pounding, for the first time since meeting him, Morana couldn’t stand her ground.
Her legs moved back on their own, something deep, deep inside her bringing forth all her survival instincts as he approached, some deep-rooted sense of self-preservation made her feet move before she could even process the action.
Eyes pinning her own, his next steps somehow seemed more aggressive, his lithe body fluid in his movement, the clothes of civility doing nothing to mask the animal in him, emphasizing it even more.
Everything inside her rebelled at the thought of being preyed upon, yet she couldn’t stop her feet from going back, her chest heaving slightly, her hands shaking, whether in fear or thrill or something else she didn’t know. Her emotions were an indistinguishable mass of something and everything in the moment.
Morana took a last step back, feeling the counter separating the kitchen and the dining area at her back, the cool granite top pressing against the base of her spine, sending small shivers coursing through her body. She clenched her jaw, her pulse beating with vengeance in her body, throbbing everywhere as she kept her eyes on him.