Scorched

41

                                                  KALEB

He knew too much.

Cleo really risked that much. She trusted him in ways that Kaleb didn't trust himself. But this new part of him that knew too much... It simply needed to come to an end.

He left briefly at the ceremony, after capturing the eyes of Mira, making ways to follow after her and to finally talk to her.

But he knew that Cleo would follow him, that's why he left and hid in a secluded room, his heart racing with each second that passed. Hoping and praying that she wouldn't find him.

So once Cleo passed by, he caught the sight of her with the glass of wine in her hand, drinking as she walked down the hallway in search of him. Then she disappeared around a bend and he finally left his spot in search of Mira.

He swallowed hard after that, not liking the bitter taste it left in his mouth at doing that to her even though he had to. She liked him. He knew that part. A lot.

He liked her too. She is beautiful, with a figure so lithe and sexy he sometimes couldn't help himself but to look at her pleasingly— especially the way her long golden legs stretched with each step she took, initiating her hips to sway so dangerously hot, it hurt to breathe.

But that was all.

Lust.

He believes that she knows it as well, or she could really be falling for him; with her he always remained uncertain. But that night with her body against his, grinding on her wall and kissing hard enough to leave bruises; was a clear show of what she felt for him. And the way she looked at him. God's.

He feels awful for doing this, but a big portion of his heart thrummed at seeing Mira. He forgot how utterly gorgeous she was, the soft curves in that silken dress she wore. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. That was all it took, to take that dread feeling that swirled in his gut away. She took it away.

It made him forget that night he nearly broke his skull, staying days and days in bed, having nurses come in and out his room, treating him like a child. Faces full of pity.

He hated it. Every single moment of it. He hated this place to be exact. Every nerve ending of him was desperate to leave this place. Not because of the people, which only contributed a portion; but because of the freedom he lacked. He wanted to go back to brawling in the arena back down in the Village have women throw themselves on him, have spectators betting. He wanted that freedom again.

To feel that thrill, the rush flinging into every point of his body, the way his father did.

But Kaleb knows the impact he made here too. How training and meeting the new members was also an element in his life that he respected and actually found a fondness for. But it wasn't enough.

This. Wasn't enough.

He takes in a deep breathe, turning down another passage after seeing that flash of silver wander through.

He saw her leave Lord Crawford's arms after a short and brisk dance before she excused herself, and left the room. Kaleb never let his gaze dissappear for once and as soon as she left, he was quick to pick up his own legs and leave right after her.

He had to. He needed to tell her what the hell was happening. To get her to leave before something worse happens. Especially to her.

He could tell she didn't like the feel of Crawford's arms. He didn't know why she was here in the first place with him. For whatever reason it was, that was soon about to end.