The Devil's Favourite Obsession

’Taking advantage of his protection.’

Even in the midst of pain and chaos, those were the words he chose to utter when every inch of her seemed to throb with its own misery.

Her throat burned where those brutal fingers had closed around it. Her shoulder ached. And a heaviness had settled over her limbs, as if her body had been crushed beneath some invisible weight, and yet this man—this impossible, merciless man—had fixed upon that.

A doctor, her dazed mind thought. A hospital. He was supposed to summon them, and here he was complaining about being taken advantage of...

Then another reason hit her... he could not take her to the hospital as he was the official missing person. However, he could call an ambulance or ask his loyal men to make the call.

And how strange, she thought dimly, that even now, with pain coursing through her and breath coming only in shallow draughts, the stubborn, indignant corner of her mind still found room to resent the injustice of his words.

The absurdity of it might almost have amused her, had she possessed the strength.

She parted her lips to answer him. Nothing came.

The attempt alone sent a sharp pain through her bruised throat, and she drew back with the faintest wince. So she shook her head instead in denial, hoping he might understand what speech could not carry.

No, that had not been her purpose. No, she had not gone downstairs because she felt secure, because he gave her his word. And yes, she did think of herself as invincible.

’Bite Me!’

She had heard gunshots and imagined danger. And like some witless creature with more impulse than sense, she had run towards it, thinking of saving someone’s life to make herself feel less guilty.

How foolish!

How thoroughly, humiliatingly foolish!

Cassian’s hand came to her forehead then, his palm warm against her skin. The contrast was so unexpected that she almost flinched.

”Was this folly bred in you from birth,” he asked with dreadful calm, ”or did you cultivate it?”

Her eyes flashed up to his at once. The glare she gave him would have carried a hundred words had her voice not abandoned her.

’If you mean to help me, then help me. If not, then spare me your insults. Get Lost!’

He watched her with that same unnerving steadiness before responding. ”No,” he said at length. ”This you have earned.” He answered her, reading the violent defiance in her gaze perfectly. ”Perhaps,” he continued, ”I should ask my men to explain exactly how stupidly you acted tonight. Not a single neighbour stepped out of their apartment to help, yet you decided to play Wonder Woman.” His gaze moved over her bruised form. ”I was unaware you were into cosplay.”

Had another man spoken this, she might have called it mockery. But his face remained rigid, and his tone was absolutely dead serious.

It was impossible to say whether he was angry or merely irritated beyond patience. Whatever lived in his face at that moment was colder than any of those times she had met him, and it even looked severe.

Then his gaze lowered again... to her throat. An instant, suffocatingly dark aura erupted from his broad frame. Cixi had witnessed him slaughtering and casually ordering executions, but the sheer, concentrated murderous intent radiating off him right now was entirely new and vastly more terrifying.

When he spoke again, it was not to her, yet he held her gaze.

”See that he recovers well.”

The order was directed towards one of the men standing near the door, and for a moment neither Cixi nor the man he had spoken to appeared to understand him.

Recover?

Cixi blinked in confusion. Even the bodyguard paused.

’Was Cassian actually showing mercy to the man who nearly killed her?’

A sharp sting of betrayal hit Cixi’s chest.

The bodyguard hesitated, but still asked, ”You wish us to take him to the hospital, Boss?”

”Yes,” Cassian replied. ”See that he heals properly. So that next time, I may break his face against a rock with my own hands. And I will be repeating it. Make sure we have a plastic surgeon ready at all times.”

The man in the black suit bowed his head and turned to obey.

A quiet horror settled over Cixi. Death by bullet would have been swift. Cruel, yes, but swift. But this was something else entirely. To restore a man only so that he might suffer more exquisitely at a later hour... such punishment belonged to a darkness she had scarcely understood until now.

For the first time, fear of Cassian himself touched her in earnest.

Not fear of his name.

Not fear of the world that bent around him.

But fear of him.

It came over her like a chill. Her heart, already overtaxed, beat harder still. Whatever small certainty she had once harboured that he would never turn his cruelty fully upon her grew thin and vanished.

And he saw it. He smelled her fear of him. He saw how she wanted to run away from him. He saw the fear draw itself across her face and settle in her eyes.

”Good,” he said sternly.

The word made her blood run colder.

”You should be afraid of me... You should be afraid of attempting such foolishness again. The next time you choose to play saviour, I may simply place you in my personal prison, where no one may reach you, and where you will be spared the temptation of heroics altogether.”

He said it like he was discussing some perfectly reasonable arrangement.

Then he added, with the same dreadful calm, ”You, too, deserve punishment!”

Even through the pain, her pulse gave a violent leap.

Did he really have to talk about her punishment right now?!

Was this not enough? Was her throat not bruised enough, her body not shaken enough, her pride not wounded enough? Must he truly speak of punishment while she still knelt half-broken at his feet?

Cruel, she thought. He is cruel, though even that word seemed poor beside what he was at this moment.

Then he passed sentence.

”The kissing contract is off the table!”