STELLA
I’m so exhausted. We’re back at his mansion, and I can hear the noise. Isaac told me to go to sleep, but I can’t. I can hear the chaos outside. I can hear my father’s voice.
He’s calling for me. He’s cursing Isaac, who is sitting beside me, smiling like an idiot. Yes, here I am in his room. He’s lying on the bed, propped up on his arms, while I’m sitting on the edge of the bed. I’m wearing one of his oversized T-shirts and pajama pants he must have taken from somewhere, and I honestly don’t care where he got them from. I am beyond exhausted.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "If you don’t like my father because you think he favors his opinions over everything—even though he’s just a man—then go ahead and start a war with him. Just him." I placed my hand to my forehead. "Can I just be selfish for once? Can you please leave me out of this?"
He didn’t respond, so I turned to him. He was staring at me intently. When our eyes met, he rolled them upwards. "Good Lord, I’m just getting started, Stella. You’re so boring."
I furrowed my brows. "You literally ruined my life, Isaac," I snapped. "You think this is funny?"
He nodded. "It is—actually funny. For me, at least. My sense of humor is hard to understand, I know."
Oh, God.
I irritably scratched my neck. "Talking to you is exhausting!" I slammed my knee into his leg. He immediately shifted away, raising his eyebrows at me.
"Hey, what are you doing? You’re ruining my skin!"
I grabbed him again, slamming my hand into his knee once more, but this time, he didn’t move. "You killed people—my friends. Yet you act like you didn’t do anything!" I yelled. I didn’t know if I was even scared of him anymore, but all the anger building inside me felt like it was going to burst out right then and there.
I am—yes, angry.
"You ruined me! The way people look at me—it feels like—fuck, I’m not your ally! But everyone else thinks otherwise!" I buried my face in my hands. I stayed silent, listening to the chaos of my father outside.
Inaudible, but unmistakably his voice.
Suddenly, I felt something pressing against my right arm. I glanced over to find the man lying on the bed lightly tapping me with his foot.
"Tsk, what now?"
"FYI, it’s not my fault your people have such narrow minds," he said. "You’re better off without them. Even your father doesn’t trust you, does he?" He sat up slightly, tilting his head to inspect my face. "You know that yourself, Stella. Those people you’re trying to protect are—"
"I know," I cut him off, looking away. "But don’t generalize. Not everyone is like that."
"But your father is hysterical outside," he said, laughing obnoxiously. "God, this is hilarious."
"There’s nothing funny about it," I snapped, glaring at him. Based on his expression now, he looked thoroughly entertained. I was genuinely pissed. I stood up and started hitting him.
"Hey! You’re punching me!" he complained, catching my wrist.
I bared my teeth at him. "I’m not punching you—I’m hitting you!" I mimicked Amber Heard’s famous line.
He smirked and grabbed both my wrists, pulling them. I gasped, my eyes widening as I was seated on his thighs.
"Hey—wait," I protested immediately. "Let me go—"
"We can redo the wedding. I fucking hated it," he said suddenly. His attention wasn’t on my position anymore, instead, he freed my hair from its pin, letting it fall over my shoulders. "You were wearing that stupid military uniform—it didn’t suit you. So boring."
"Hey—"
"I never saw your hair like this," he continued. His gaze shifted from my hair to my eyes. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "See? You look like a woman now."
I rolled my eyes. I tried hard not to show how uncomfortable I was as I sat on his thighs. Well, it probably meant nothing to him. Who am I to him, right?
"I am a woman, Nullus."
"Call me Isa—"
"I know, I know."
Tsk. I pulled my wrists from his grasp, but he tightened his hold again, causing my brows to furrow once more. "What now?"
He lazily grinned at me. "Stella, you should be thankful, I’m tempted to kiss you right now."
I forcefully pulled my wrists away again, kicking him in the side. "Stop it, or I’ll stab you while you sleep."
He lay back on the bed as if unaffected by my kick. I stood up and peered out the window.
My father is still there, along with the other soldiers.
"You’re so dramatic," Isaac said. "Come on, I slept for hundreds of years, and when I woke up, I suddenly forgot which is better: kisses or magic?"
I turned sharply to face him, exasperated. He had settled back into his seat, and I felt utterly drained from his antics.
"You can ask the internet, you know. Why ask me this?"
He scoffed. "I just want a kiss, what’s so wrong with that?"
"You killed people."
"What does that have to do with a kiss?" He stared at me like I was the dumbest woman he’d ever met. "Yes, I did kill people. And I’m not apologizing for that. So, can I have a kiss now?"
Seriously?
"Ask Diana."
"Ew, no." He stood and approached me again. I rolled my eyes, and yes, he was wearing nothing but a robe. He was so restless, constantly moving, and his chest was almost visible now as he fidgeted around.
"Just one kiss, I promise," he said again. "I just want to know which one is better."
Is he serious?
I’m tired of his nonsense. He acts like a child. So, I grabbed his nape and pulled him toward me. I was surprised when he followed without protest. I rose slightly because I couldn’t reach him otherwise. It was quick. Barely noticeable. I pressed my lips to his, and I swear, it felt like an electric shock.
This wasn’t my first kiss, but it was my first kiss with a non-human being.
As I said, I barely touched him. Just a soft press—hardly felt his lips—only their softness.
I quickly pulled away, but my back hit the wall because he pushed me lightly. He was towering over me now, and when I saw his expression, I think I completely lost it.
He looked like a madman—a deranged child discovering murder for the first time—his eyes sparkling unnaturally… just… what the fuck.
"I knew it," he whispered, his voice lower than usual, almost a purr. "Kisses are better than magic."
H-Ha?
"Hey!" I snapped. I grabbed his exposed chest in frustration. "This is harassment!"
He pulled away, but I noticed I had been holding my breath the whole time. His arrogance was infuriating, and I hated it. He stared at me like Amber Heard did to Johnny Depp—so narcissistic, so sure of his desires. And the worst part? He knew exactly how to get what he wanted.
"Harassment?" he asked.
"Yes!"
"It is now?" he smirked. "You kissed me, I was just joking before."
What?!
He grinned wider. "But you started it. I am now your responsibility."
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