Page 104 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander

His jaw tightened.

Fight this, lass. Come on now. I need ye to fight it on yer own.

“Imatter,” she spat out again, regaining her core strength, blood rushing back into her limbs with a flush of color.

Damon looked her over, assessing her balance before leaning back against the arm of the chair.

“Lilith—”

She stepped closer. “If ye are done with me, if this wasonlya game to ye, then tell me to me face. Tell me that it meant nothin’.”

What? Where is this comin’ from?

Damon inhaled sharply, careful not to let his eyes give away his confusion because clearly, he pushed her away. But he hadn’t intended to push herthisfar away.

Did I?

Lilith held his gaze, her eyes watering through the burn of rejection that he hadn’t meant for her to feel.

I cannae risk crossin’ that line again. It’s for the best.

He chose not to say a word.

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t confirm it. Just silently turned away from her and walked out of the study.

25

She followed him to his chambers.

Damon barely made it inside before she pushed the door open and stormed in after him.

The air in his chambers was thick—stifling. Lilith stood in the center of the room, her arms wrapped tight around her middle as though she were holding herself together.

Damon paced near the hearth, tension radiating from him in waves. His jaw was clenched, his hands flexing at his sides as though itching for a weapon—itching to cut something down, to end, to control.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Lilith?—”

“Look me in the eye,” she demanded.

He did. And it nearly undid her.

Because she saw the exhaustion, the battle lingering in his gaze. But she also saw the walls. The walls that weren’t there one week ago. The decision to push her away.

She hated him for it.

But she wasn’t done with him yet.

“I want me seventh night,” she said in a softer voice this time, less defiant but no less certain.

Damon scoffed, shaking his head. “Looks like I’ve already convinced ye, does it nae? I mean, look at ye—” His injured arm swept up and down to emphasize his point.

Her throat constricted at his words, but she forced herself not to react. Not to let him see that each careless remark cut her deeper than any blade could have.

“Is this how ye wish to spend it? In a quarrel?” he continued.

She took a step closer. “It doesnae have to be a quarrel. I wish to talk about Ariah.”

His expression darkened instantly, his whole body stilling with deadly, predatory instinct. “We arenaetalkin’ about Ariah.”