Capítulo 4: Chapter 4 - Close Quarters

When Taryn woke, her head throbbed, a dull ache spreading from the base of her skull down her spine. The chill in the air bit through her clothes, damp and unforgiving, carrying the heavy scent of earth, rust, and old blood. She blinked against the darkness, her body sluggish and heavy as she tried to shift into a sitting position.

Her pulse picked up as memories crashed into her—the ambush, the fight, and the rough hands dragging her down.

Her wrist jerked painfully against resistance.

"What the—?" she hissed, squinting down at her arm. A glowing chain wound tightly around her wrist, its links shimmering with dark magic that hummed against her skin.

Her gaze followed the length of the chain—and her heart sank.

At the other end of the chain, Lucien lay sprawled with infuriating ease, one knee bent, his head resting against the stone wall like he was settling in for a nap. His black coat hung open, rumpled, and his dark hair fell messily across his forehead, as if he'd just strolled out of bed rather than been dragged into a dank cell.

Lucien's silver eyes gleamed with lazy amusement as he met her gaze, and a slow, smug grin spread across his face. He didn't look remotely concerned about the chains. Or the fact that they were imprisoned underground.

"Well," he drawled, his voice smooth and maddeningly casual. "Good morning, sunshine."

Taryn's scowl deepened, and without thinking, she yanked at the chain—hard. Lucien's arm shot upward, his linked hand tugged awkwardly toward the ceiling, where the chain was draped over a rusted iron hook embedded in the stone wall.

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "Be careful, warrior. I thought you liked your space."

Taryn yanked on the chain again—hard. This time, the metal burned where it touched her skin, sending a sharp jolt of magic racing through her veins. She hissed, clutching her wrist.

"Don't bother," Lucien said, watching her with lazy amusement, shaking the pain from his own hand. "The magic rebounds. You'll just hurt yourself."

Taryn glared at him. This could not be happening.

Lucien tilted his head, giving the chain an unhurried glance. His wrist bore a matching cuff, the same eerie glow running through the links. Taryn clenched her jaw, every muscle in her body humming with frustration.

"What did you do?" she growled.

Lucien grinned, slow and wicked. "Why do you assume this is my fault?"

"Because," she said through gritted teeth, "you're a vampire." She gave the chain another vicious yank, just to prove her point. "And I'm not stupid."

Lucien chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest. "Fair point."

Then, to her absolute fury, he tugged on the chain—smooth and deliberate—yanking her wrist upwards. The movement pulled her entire body closer to his, until her shoulder bumped his chest.

"Stop that!" Taryn hissed, planting her feet to keep from falling into him entirely. But the awkward angle forced her to twist closer, their arms tangled and held aloft by the enchanted chain.

Lucien's grin widened, far too pleased. "Seems we're a bit… tangled."

Taryn glared. "We're not tangled. We're trapped."

Lucien leaned back slightly, his wrist still tugging at hers, testing the chain's limits with idle curiosity. It didn't budge.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "trapped sounds a lot like tangled to me."

Taryn swore under her breath and gave the chain another sharp tug—this time out of pure spite.

The magic sparked violently, sending a sharp jolt of pain racing up her arm. She hissed, clutching her wrist.

Lucien arched a brow, shaking out his hand as if shaking off a light sting. "See? I told you not to bother."

"Shut up," Taryn muttered, flexing her wrist as the pain faded.

Lucien gave the chain another playful tug—a subtle, annoying little jerk that made her stumble toward him again. Her knee brushed his, and she shot him a death glare.

"Oh, for gods' sake!" Taryn snapped, yanking at the chain again just to stop him from having the last word.

Then suddenly the chain seemed to shorten, forcing their wrists up toward the hook above them. Their arms now hung awkwardly above their heads, the limited movement pressing them closer together on the cold, stone floor.

"You did this on purpose." Taryn shot him a glare, sharp enough to kill. "What the hell is this?"

"Like I said. Magic," he responded, as if discussing the weather. "Impressive craftsmanship, really."

"Well do you have a plan," Taryn bit out, her voice sharp with frustration, "or are you just going to sit there looking smug?"

Lucien's silver eyes gleamed with unholy delight. "Oh, I have a plan."

Taryn raised a brow, her patience hanging by a thread. Her knee brushed his again, sending a spark of irritation—or something uncomfortably close to it—up her spine.

"And it is?" she demanded.

Lucien's grin turned slow and deliberate. "Annoy you until you come up with a better one." he said, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Taryn stared at him, her jaw tight, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Then she swore under her breath and yanked on the chain again—because if she had to suffer, so did he.

The magic jolted through them both this time, sending twin sparks of pain racing up their arms.

Lucien hissed softly, his grin faltering for just a second. "That was rude."

"Good," Taryn muttered, rubbing her wrist as the sting faded.

They sat there in tense silence, the chain holding their arms uncomfortably above their heads, forcing them to sit far too close for her liking. Every time she shifted, her knee bumped his. Every breath she took brought her shoulder brushing against his chest again, and with it, a spark of irritation, sharp as the magic in the chain. Too close.

Far too close.

And Lucien—of course—looked entirely too comfortable with the situation.

"This could be worse, you know," Lucien murmured, his voice low and far too close to her ear.

Taryn shot him a withering look. "How, exactly?"

Lucien's grin widened. "At least they didn't chain us at the ankles. Imagine the choreography that would require."

Taryn groaned, letting her head thud back against the wall. "Gods, kill me now."

Lucien chuckled softly, his breath warm against her temple. "Oh, come now, warrior. You're not enjoying our little bonding moment?"

Taryn shot him a sidelong glare. "If you keep talking, I swear I'll stab you."

Lucien smiled—a slow, wicked thing that made her stomach twist in ways she refused to acknowledge. "Chained to a wall, no weapons, and still full of threats. I think I'm starting to like you."

Taryn rolled her eyes, shifting again in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position.

"This is torture," she muttered.

Lucien chuckled, the sound deep and amused. "Ah, but at least it's not boring."

PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES
JadedButCute

So, how are we feeling about Taryn and Lucien’s… bonding session? Trapped together, literally chained by magic, and with zero personal space—it’s the perfect recipe for disaster (and maybe a little humor, too). Honestly, Lucien’s way too comfortable for someone stuck in a damp cell, but that’s just him, right?

Taryn’s not having any of it, though, and I can’t blame her. Would you survive being stuck like this with someone like Lucien? Or would you lose it after five minutes of his smug commentary? Let me know in the comments!

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