6. Chapter 6

6

Chapter 6

Mia

G et along just fine? I hate him already. How could I not?

But my eyes lock onto the figure entering the room, and I'm caught off guard by the sheer presence he exudes. Power crackles from him.

Tall, imposing, with chiseled features that could've been carved from marble – he's undeniably striking.

My traitorous heart starts racing, and I feel a flush creeping up my neck. Damn it. Why does he have to be so…beautiful?

No. Don't go there, Mia. This is your captor, not some romantic hero.

I force myself to breathe evenly, trying to ignore the way my skin prickles with awareness. His midnight-blue eyes sweep over me, devoid of any warmth or emotion. It's jarring how such a perfect face can look so utterly cold and detached.

"Don't call me witch. I am Mia Blackwood," I snap at him. "You will address me with respect."

There should be some sort of reaction in his expression, but there is none. He remains stone-faced. "Of course…Miss Blackwood," he says, his voice deep and smooth. "I trust you're finding your accommodations…adequate."

The sarcasm in his tone snaps me back to reality. I lift my chin defiantly, meeting his gaze with as much steel as I can muster. "Oh, just peachy," I retort. "Though I have to say, your welcome wagon could use some work."

A hint of something – amusement? irritation? – passes across his face so quickly I almost miss it. Then, that mask of indifference slides back into place. "This isn't a vacation resort."

I glare at him, my anger bubbling up. "Well, aren't you just a barrel of laughs? I bet you're the life of all the vampire parties."

His lips twitch almost imperceptibly. "I assure you, our gatherings are quite…lively."

"Oh, I'm sure," I snap back. "Nothing says ‘fun' like kidnapping innocent witches, right?"

His eyes narrow slightly. "I wouldn't exactly call you innocent, Miss Blackwood."

That catches me off guard. What does he mean by that? I push the thought aside, focusing on what matters.

"Enough of this," I say, my voice hard. "What do you want from me? Why am I here?"

He regards me coolly, his expression giving nothing away. "You're here because we require your…assistance."

"Assistance?" I scoff. "And what makes you think I'd help you with anything?"

"I'm afraid you don't have much choice in the matter," he replies, his tone maddeningly calm.

I feel my frustration mounting. "Don't give me that cryptic bullshit. I deserve answers. Why me? What could you possibly want that—"

He cuts me off with a raised hand. "All will be revealed in due time, Miss Blackwood. For now, I suggest you make yourself comfortable. You'll be our guest for a while."

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to lash out. "Guest? Is that what you call prisoners these days?"

He doesn't rise to the bait, simply regarding me with that infuriatingly impassive stare. "Your comfort and safety are assured as long as you cooperate."

"And if I don't?" I challenge.

Something flickers in his eyes. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

I feel my blood boiling at his smug demeanor. How dare he stand there, so calm and collected, while I'm trapped in this magical prison? I can't let him see how rattled I am. I need to regain some control.

"You have no idea what you've done," I snarl, taking a step closer to him. Close enough to pick up his scent, which is oddly warm and woodsy. "When my family finds out—"

To my utter frustration, his lips curl into the faintest hint of a smirk. "I assure you, we're quite prepared for any…retaliation."

His amusement sends a surge of rage through me. Does he think this is funny? That my family's power is some kind of joke?

"You arrogant bastard," I hiss. "You have no clue who you're dealing with. The Blackwoods aren't just any coven. We're—"

"Your lineage is none of my concern, Miss Blackwood," he interrupts smoothly. "We're quite prepared for any kind of assault."

That throws me for a loop, but I push past my confusion. I won't let him see me falter.

"Well, you should know better than to cross us," I warn, my voice low and dangerous. "When they come for me – and they will come – you'll wish you'd never heard the name Blackwood."

He raises an eyebrow, looking utterly unimpressed. "Is that so?"

I glare at him, my anger simmering just beneath the surface. "I suppose kidnapping witches is just another day for you bloodsuckers."

His expression doesn't change, but there's a hint of…something in his eyes. Amusement? "You'd be surprised how infrequently it occurs on my schedule."

"Oh, I'm sure," I snap back. "What, do you pencil it in between ‘draining innocents' and ‘brooding in dark corners'?"

"Your assumptions about vampires are rather…quaint."

I scoff. "Quaint? That's rich coming from someone who probably still thinks corsets are the height of fashion."

"I assure you, my wardrobe is quite up to date."

Without thinking, I run an eye over him. His tailored black suit fits like it was made for him. Probably was.

Asshole.

"Congratulations," I retort dryly. "Now, are you going to tell me who you are, or should I just keep calling you ‘Tall, Dark, and Bloodthirsty' in my head?"

To my surprise, he inclines his head slightly. "My apologies for the oversight. I am Soren Daire."

The name means nothing to me, but I file it away for future reference. "Well, Soren Daire," I say, injecting as much venom into his name as possible, "I hope you're proud of yourself. Kidnapping a witch, holding her against her will – that's some real heroic behavior right there."

I glare at him, anger warring with an unwelcome surge of attraction. Damn him and his vampire allure. My body betrays me, responding to his presence in ways I can't control.

"Heroism is not part of my job." Soren's intense gaze locks with mine and I feel a jolt of electricity run through me. I want to look away, to maintain my composure, but I'm caught in his magnetic pull.

Dammit, Mia. He's the enemy, no matter how unfairly gorgeous he is.

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. The pain helps ground me, reminds me of the reality of my situation. This man – this vampire – is my captor. It doesn't matter how striking his midnight-blue eyes are, or how his voice lifts the tiny hairs on my skin. He's dangerous, and I can't let myself forget that for a second.

But my traitorous body doesn't seem to care about the danger. There's an undeniable pull. When he moves closer, I have to fight the urge to lean in, to breathe in more of his intoxicating scent.

I hate this. I hate him. And I hate myself for feeling even a shred of attraction.

"Is there a problem, Miss Blackwood?" Soren asks.

I realize I've been staring, lost in my internal struggle. Mortified, I snap my gaze away, willing the heat in my cheeks to subside. "The only problem here is you," I spit out.

But even as the words leave my mouth, I can feel the war raging inside me – hatred and attraction battling for dominance. It's maddening, and it only fuels my anger further. How dare he make me feel this way? How dare my own body betray me like this?

"I think you'll find that I am the least of your problems. Especially if you choose not to cooperate," he says.

Cooperate? I still don't know what that even means. He hasn't told me what he wants yet.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. Maybe there's another way to approach this. I search Soren's face, looking for any hint of compassion behind that icy facade.

"Look," I say, softening my tone, "I know you're just following orders. But surely you can see this isn't right. I'm a person, not some object to be used and discarded. Don't you have family? Friends? People you care about?"

For a split second, I see something in his eyes. A flash of…regret? It's gone so quickly that I almost think I imagined it.

"Please," I press on, encouraged by that tiny crack in his armor. "You don't have to do this. There must be another way."

Soren's jaw tightens, and for a breathless moment, I think I might have gotten through to him. But then his expression hardens, becoming even colder than before.

"Your attempts at manipulation are futile, Miss Blackwood," he says, his voice devoid of emotion. "I suggest you save your energy for more productive endeavors."

The dismissal in his tone stings. I'd allowed myself a glimmer of hope, only to have it ruthlessly crushed.

Fine. If that's how he wants to play it, so be it. I straighten my spine, meeting his gaze with renewed determination.

"You're right about one thing," I say, my voice low and steely. "I won't waste any more energy trying to appeal to your non-existent humanity. But make no mistake, Soren Daire. I will fight you every step of the way. Whatever you're planning, whatever sick game this is – I won't make it easy for you."

"That would be regrettable…for you." He shrugs with a nonchalance that makes me want to slap him. "Now, since we've gotten the formalities over, I'll leave you to settle in.

Settle in? He's got to be kidding!

I watch Soren turn to leave, his broad shoulders tense under his perfectly tailored jacket. My heart races, a mix of anger and unwanted attraction coursing through my veins. But I push those traitorous feelings aside, focusing on what really matters.

I won't let him win. I won't let any of them win.

I take a deep breath, centering myself. My magic might be suppressed, but my mind is still sharp. I'll find a way out of this. I have to.

As Soren reaches for the door, I make one last attempt. "Wait," I call out, forcing my voice to remain steady. "You still haven't told me why I'm here. What do you want from me?"

He pauses, his hand on the doorknob. For a moment, I think he might ignore me completely. Then he turns, those midnight eyes boring into mine.

"You'll learn soon enough, Miss Blackwood," he says. "For now, I suggest you rest. You'll need your strength in the days to come."

I open my mouth to demand more, but he cuts me off with a raised hand. "Patience," he says. "All will be revealed in due time."

With that cryptic statement hanging in the air, he strides from the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a growing sense of unease.

I slump onto the hard bunk as the door clicks shut behind Soren, my mind reeling. Anger courses through me, hot and fierce. How dare they do this to me? How dare he stand there, so smug and self-assured, while I'm trapped like an animal?

But beneath the anger, there's a current of confusion that I can't shake. Why me? What could they possibly want that requires kidnapping a witch? And why won't Soren give me a straight answer?

I run a hand through my hair, frustrated by the lack of information. My fingers catch on a tangle, and I wince. It's such a small, normal thing, but it reminds me of how far from normal this situation is.

And then there's…that other feeling. The one I don't want to acknowledge. The way my breath caught when Soren first walked in. The electricity that sparked between us when our eyes met. The inexplicable pull I felt toward him, even as I wanted to claw his eyes out.

"Cut it out, Mia," I mutter to myself, disgusted by my own weakness. "He's an animal. Never forget that. It doesn't matter how attractive he is."

I stand up abruptly, needing to move, to do something. I pace the small room, my mind racing. This mix of emotions – the anger, the confusion, the unwanted attraction – it's all too much. But I can't let it overwhelm me. I need to channel it into something productive.

With each step, I feel my resolve hardening. They may have taken my magic, but they haven't taken my will. I turn and stare up at the camera, injecting every ounce of defiance into my expression that I can muster. Whoever is up there watching me…let them see my anger. Let them see that I won't be broken.

I don't care how long it takes; I will find a way out. And when I do, they'll all pay for this.

I will not go down without a fight.