Sena stared at him, her mouth open in amazement. She shook her head as he leaned over and set down the wine glass in her hand.
“And what makes you think I can help you with that?” She sputtered, grabbing the glass back to chug the rest of the contents down. "There's no equivalent to enforcement around here?"
Ramses watched in amusement, offering the remaining bottle to her but she shook her head. Her eyes brightened, a slash of red across her cheekbones from the heat of the wine, as she considered her options, tapping her chin while lost in thought. “You will know where to find him.”
Her eyes darted back to him. “Am I a human GPS or something?” She muttered, standing up and pacing the room. “So we find the killer and then the festival’s over? Or is the festival considered over regardless of the killer?” She found herself asking questions but not expecting answers. “What happened in the last festival?” She threw a glance at him, stopping in her tracks.
He raised an eyebrow, swirling the contents of the glass he held. “Each festival is unique.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “And yet you’re certain I have to do this and participate in your supposed festival?” She repeated.
He glanced at her, her hand on her hip as she waited for him to answer. He found himself smiling as he slowly nodded.
She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air again. “Men. You may have super powers and this is some other world but you sure act like a human male.” She muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
Ramses stood up and walked towards her. “Don’t be so quick to assume, Sena.” He murmured, standing so close to her she had to crane her neck to look up.
He bent towards her face and she hesitantly leaned back into the bed.
“You answer whenever and whatever you want. What else can I do but assume based on what little you graciously give me.” She retorted, leaning back further to get away from him. His close proximity was making her heart flutter but she could annoyingly admit to herself that she was attracted to him.
Like a twisted Stocklholme’s syndrome.
“So the killer.” She interrupted, leaning a hand on his chest as he bent down even closer.
He stopped and gazed at her before chuckling and standing back up to his full height to her relief.
“We will discuss that later. For now, rest and I will see you in the morning.” He smoothly guided her back to her room. She didn’t realize she was walking so obediently when she snapped out of it and pushed his arm away from her lower back.
“Quit doing that.” She muttered. “I’ll move on my own, thanks.”
He only nodded as he followed behind her. Just when she turned around, he reached over and held her chin and gazed into her eyes. She marveled at the blue and green she glimpsed when she first met him and now she could see gold as well.
“You don’t have permission to touch me.” She stiffly muttered, placing her hands over his to try to take his hand away from her face.
He remained where he was and leaned forward so close she could smell the wine from his breath that fanned her face. “You are my guest here but there will be those who will try to contest that fact. Do not leave these quarters unless you are accompanied by myself.”
She absorbed the words as he let go of her chin. She stepped back, gazing at his turned back. “Will you really let me go? After I do what I need to do?” She softly asked, causing him to stop in his tracks.
He didn’t turn around but she could see his head bend forward, his hair hiding his eyes. “I swear to you.”
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond as he closed the door behind him.
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