Caged By the Lich

17. Astrid

17

ASTRID

I slip into the spare office, my eyes going right to the desk. There's supposed to be papers somewhere…

"There!" I pick them up, turning to head back out when suddenly, the light catches something on the ground. As I move around the desk, I bend down to inspect what was glinting. My heart skips a beat as I bend down to pick up a small, familiar object.

"Thena," I whisper, rolling the delicate earring between my fingers. It's unmistakably hers - a gift from our father on her sixteenth birthday. My mind races. How did this get here? When was Athena here?

Clutching the earring, I storm out of the office, my feet carrying me swiftly to Olvaar's study. Without knocking, I burst through the door.

He looks up from his desk, his brow furrowing as he takes in my expression. "Did you find the-"

I march up to his desk and slam the earring down. "Explain this."

His eyes flicker to the jewelry, then back to me. "It appears to be an earring."

"Don't play dumb," I snarl. "It's Athena's. She was here, wasn't she? And you didn't tell me."

Olvaar leans back in his chair, regarding me with those unnerving, color-shifting eyes. I swear I see all the colors there at once. "Your sister made quite the impressive attempt to infiltrate my home."

My breath catches. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing," he says simply.

I blink, thrown off balance. "Nothing? You just... let her go?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," I snap. "Why would you do that? And why didn't you let me see her?"

Olvaar stands, circling around the desk. I force myself to hold my ground as he approaches. "She was an intruder. She didn't deserve to get what she came for."

"What about me?" I demand, my voice rising. "She's my sister! I had a right to see her!"

"You have no rights here," Olvaar growls, but there's something off about his tone. It lacks its usual bite.

"Don't start with that shit, V." His eyes narrow. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Since when do you call me V?"

"Since you're being the arrogant ass that name portrays." His teeth grind together. "Answer me."

"Because you would get upset that I sent her away." His voice is remarkably measured, but his words still make me angrier.

I step closer, glaring up at him. "And why did you let her go? It doesn't make sense. You're not exactly known for your mercy."

Olvaar's eyes flash, swirls of blue crackling through the gray. "Perhaps I'm not as predictable as you think."

"That's not an answer," I press. "Why?"

He turns away, his shoulders tense. "Does it matter? Your sister is safe. Isn't that enough?"

"No," I say firmly. "I want to know why."

Olvaar whirls back to face me. "Because it would have hurt you," he says quietly, his words hitting me like a physical blow.

I stare at him, speechless. My mind struggles to process this admission, to reconcile it with everything I know about the ruthless demon lord before me.

"I don't understand," I finally manage to say.

Olvaar's laugh is bitter. "Neither do I, little rebel. Neither do I."

I stare at Olvaar, my mind reeling from his admission. "I don't believe you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why would you care about hurting me?"

His eyes flash, a mix of blue and purple swirling in the gray. "Because you're the reason I do anything anymore, Astrid," he snaps, his voice raw with frustration. "I didn't hurt Athena because I knew it would devastate you. I didn't let you meet because I didn't want to remind you how much you hate me."

His words hit me like a physical blow. I stumble back, gripping the edge of his desk for support. He was worried that I would feel that way? He cared?

My mind is reeling, unable to process the emotions springing up in me. I don't get it. Since when did this demon want to make me happy, want me not to hate him?

So I latch onto something I can at least understand. Even if the anger no longer feels right.

"That's... that's not your decision to make," I manage to say, my voice shaking. "She's my sister. I had a right to see her."

"And what would that have accomplished?" Olvaar demands, stepping closer. "You would have been reminded of everything you've lost, of how much you despise being here. With me."

I want to argue, to tell him he's wrong, but the words stick in my throat. Because part of me understands his twisted logic, and that terrifies me.

"You can't make choices for me," I say instead, my anger rising to mask my confusion. "I'm not some fragile thing you need to protect."

"I know that," Olvaar growls. "But I couldn't... I couldn't bear to see the hatred in your eyes when you looked at me after seeing her."

He might say so angrily it sounds like a threat, but the words stun me into silence. I search his face, looking for any sign of deception, but all I see is raw, uncomfortable honesty.

And suddenly, I'm not sure what I want anymore. The realization hits me like a bolt of lightning - I'm no longer certain if I want to be rescued. The thought of leaving this place, of leaving Olvaar, fills me with a confusing mix of emotions I can't begin to untangle.

"I..." I start, then stop, unsure of what to say. My heart races, my mind a chaotic whirlwind of conflicting desires. I should want to escape, to return to my family.

But the thought of never seeing Olvaar again, never engaging in our verbal sparring matches or working together on his strategies... it leaves an ache in my chest I can't explain.

"Astrid?" Olvaar's voice is uncharacteristically gentle, laced with concern.

I look up at him, really look at him, and for the first time, I see beyond the fearsome demon lord. I see the man who's challenged me, respected me, protected me. And I realize, with a jolt of fear and excitement, that my feelings for him have shifted into something I'm not ready to name.

"I don't think I want to leave," I breathe out, daring to take that first step as I start to move toward him.

His eyes watch me as I tentatively take step after step toward him, and it feels like I'm simultaneously being yanked forward by something…else. Like we aren't meant to have this distance between us. I barely leave any room between us at all as I come to a stop before him, and the anger melts into something more, something dangerous.

"No?" His words lack their normal bite. He's almost as breathless as me, and I shake my head. "I thought you hated me."

I scoff, a broken laugh coming out. "I thought you hated me. That's why you took me."

"Oh, Astrid," he says so softly, I swear I feel my heart try to leave my chest. Try to go to him. He reaches up, cupping my face. "I could never hate you. Don't you see that?"

"No?" I breathe. He shakes his head, and my pulse stumbles as I lean into his touch. "Prove it."

His eyes, swirling with a mesmerizing mix of gray and purple and gold, lock onto mine. "Astrid," he says, his voice low and husky. "We shouldn't..."

But he doesn't move away. Instead, he takes a step closer, his tall frame looming over me. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the intoxicating scent that's uniquely him.

"Why not?" I challenge, tilting my chin up defiantly. "Afraid you can't handle me, V?"

His eyes flash at the nickname, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, little rebel, I can handle you just fine."

He reaches out, his fingers ghosting along my jawline. I shiver at the contact, my breath catching in my throat.

"Then prove it," I whisper, leaning into his touch.

Olvaar's other hand comes to rest on my waist, pulling me closer. Our bodies are nearly flush against each other now, and I can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"You don't know what you're asking for," he murmurs, his face mere inches from mine.

"I think I do," I retort, my hands coming up to rest on his chest. I can feel his heart racing beneath my palm.

We're so close now, our noses almost touching. I can see every fleck of color in his eyes, every line of his face. My gaze drops to his lips, and I unconsciously lick my own.

Olvaar's grip on my waist tightens, and for a moment, I think he's going to close the distance between us. My eyes flutter closed in anticipation.

But then, suddenly, he's pulling away. The loss of his warmth is immediate and jarring.

"No," he says, his voice rough. "Not like this."

I blink, confusion and hurt washing over me. "What?"

Olvaar takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Go to bed, Astrid. It's late."

"But-"

"I said go," he cuts me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I don't... I don't want you like this. Not when you were just mad at me."

The rejection burns, and I leave without another word. I return to my room, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. As I slip into bed, I can't shake the memory of what just happened, the rejection doing nothing to cool my desire.

Mostly because I don't think he meant it.

My skin tingles as I recall our almost kiss, our sparring session, every time he's touched me. The way his hands guided my movements, firm yet surprisingly gentle. The heat of his body so close to mine. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to banish these thoughts, but they persist.

Almost unconsciously, my hand slides down my body. I bite my lip, ashamed of my body's reaction, but unable to stop. My fingers trace patterns on my skin, mimicking Olvaar's touch from our training.

"This is wrong," I whisper to myself, even as my hand moves lower. I think of Olvaar's piercing gaze, the way his eyes shift color with his emotions. The raw power I felt radiating from him as we fought.

A soft moan escapes my lips as I give in to the sensations. My mind conjures images of Olvaar - his strong hands, his intense focus, the rare moments when his mask slips and I glimpse something softer beneath.

As pleasure builds, I'm struck by a sudden, terrifying realization. I'm becoming attached to him. To this demon I'm supposed to hate. The enemy who took me from my family.

But he's also the man who challenges me, respects me, protects me. The one who let my sister go to spare me pain.

My back arches as I reach my peak, Olvaar's name on my lips. In the aftermath, I lie there, breathing heavily, shame and confusion warring within me.

What am I doing? How did I end up here, fantasizing about the very demon who's holding me captive?

But even as I ask myself these questions, I know the answer. Somewhere along the line, Olvaar stopped being just my captor. He became... something else. Something I'm not ready to name.

I roll onto my side, hugging my pillow close. Sleep eludes me as I grapple with this new reality. I'm falling for Olvaar, and I have no idea what to do about it.