Freya

Freya felt like a teenager again.

She and Danielle had stopped by the shopping center earlier to grab some essentials, and now, hours later, they were sprawled across Seth's bed, giggling uncontrollably. They'd bought matching pajama sets—shorts and thin, long-sleeved tops in a soft, dusty blue shade with three small buttons down the chest.

On the nightstand sat two empty bottles of red wine, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter.

Both of them were drunk, tangled in the bedding, unable to stop laughing.

"Shit, you forgot to buy a blanket!" Danielle exclaimed suddenly, her voice loud and dramatic.

Freya blinked at her, then started laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. "Oh my god, I did! After all that complaining about needing one last night—and I still forgot!"

Danielle groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "What is wrong with you? That was like the whole point of going shopping!"

Freya shook her head, still laughing. "I'm hopeless. But, hey, I don't even need it anymore. You're staying here tonight, so we'll just share the duvet."

"True," Danielle said, grinning as she joined in the laughter again.

Freya turned toward the nightstand, eyeing the empty wine bottles with mock disappointment. "Boring. We're out of wine." She grabbed the cigarette pack and lighter, pulling one out. "You know this is basically Seth's fault, right? I've been smoking so much because of him."

Danielle propped herself up on one elbow, smirking. "Add it to the list of things he's done that are annoying."

Freya lit the cigarette and flopped back onto the pillows. "Do you think he'll be pissed that I'm smoking here?"

Danielle tilted her head, pretending to consider it. "Most likely, yeah."

Freya shrugged, blowing out a puff of smoke. "Eh. He can deal with it." She paused for a moment, then glanced at Danielle. "Do you think he has more alcohol stashed somewhere?"

Danielle's grin widened. "Oh, absolutely. Let's go find it."

They both were on their way out of the bed when the bedroom door opened and Seth walked in.

"What's going on?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the bottles of wine and then at them.

"We are having a sleepover party," Freya teased. "And you are not invited."

"Sorry for interrupting the fun, girls, but it's been a long day," he said, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

Freya gave him a big smile. "That's no problem, the couch downstairs is waiting for you."

"I'm not in the mood, Freya," he murmured, more serious in his tone.

Her gaze shifted between Seth and Danielle, and she felt the fun vibe that existed only a minute ago shift now into something more tense.

"Can you leave us, Danielle?" he asked, moving his gaze over to her best friend.

"Fuck no—you are not throwing her out of here. I don't want to sleep in the same bed as you," she said and felt a pinch of adrenaline mixed with the alcohol floating in her veins.

"That's not really a problem—I'll just leave," Danielle muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Freya watched while she got up from the bed and went out of the room quickly. Seth closed the door after her and stepped closer to the bed.

"Can we sleep then?"

His face held a visible tiredness, frustration maybe. She didn't know, but it was something on his mind for sure.

And with the amount of delicious wine she had enjoyed this evening, she knew she would not be able to resist pushing him further. It was something telling her to test his limits. After all, she had nothing else to lose. Her life was a mess, and she had no intention of backing off the man who created it.

"Well, I was thinking that I need to practice staying up late at night and sleeping in the mornings—since I'll soon not have a job to wake up for anymore," she mocked and gave him a flashing smile.

Seth licked his lips faintly, biting his lower lip. She knew she could get under his skin; he didn't hide that very well.

Freya got up from the bed, standing before him. His height towered over her, but she held his gaze. Didn't break it, did not waver. She stood still while his azure eyes pierced hers with an intensity that, she had to admit, sent a faint shiver through her body.

"What? No comebacks this time?" she asked.

"Careful now," he growled, taking another step toward her.

Their bodies were not far away from each other; she could feel his warmth radiating from him. She could only hope he didn't hear her pounding heart.

"Why should I? I have nothing else to lose. Sincerely—nothing else," she snapped, her voice starting to get a bit louder.

"I'm not trying to fuck you ov—"

"Really? Oh, that I didn't know. So, you've just tried to be nice to me this whole time? Shattering my home, tricking me into a bet I had no chance in hell of winning, and then crushing the only hope I had—the one thing keeping me together," Freya poured out. She knew she was standing on the edge of a hill, and there was probably nothing that could hold her back anymore.

He let out a faint, angry chuckle.

"You have been rotting away in this stable far too many years, so you don't even know how the world functions anymore—or even people. This is just Freya's world we are all living in, right? You and only you—poor Danielle has to live in Freya's shadow," he snarled.

She clenched her jaw, gritting her teeth at the way his words hurt.

"Shut your mouth, Seth. You think you're better than me? What about your world then? The world champion, rich bastard, the man that can't tell Daddy no?" she snapped, and she felt no remorse whatsoever.

She didn't know if the alcohol was to blame, but she felt feral.

"You can be a cold bitch, you know that?"

"I'm not a liar or a pussy at least."

That made Seth react, and she didn't realize what was happening before he had her turned around the other way and pushed her against the cold wall.

His hands gripped her shoulders firmly—but not painfully. But it told her enough that she had hit a soft spot.

"What? I'm guessing your dad calls you a pussy?" she snarled with a grin, and she felt his fingers digging harder into her shoulders.

Now his eyes burned with blue fire.

"Shut your mouth, Lynn," he snarled, gritting his teeth.

"Ouch, back to last names, huh? Fine by me, Harlow."

He pressed her more against the wall, its coldness grazing her scalp. "You don't get to do that—painting me as the bad guy," he said, and his brows shifted from angry to sad. "I'm trying to fix things, in the only way I can. My hands are more tied than you know. But at least I'm trying, even if I have to do things I don't want to," he said, and the look in his eyes told her he regretted the second the words escaped his lips.

Her ears were filled with the beating of her high pulse, and his words gave her an unsettling feeling in her stomach.

She yanked her head upwards in a quick and faint movement. "What did you do?"

He dropped his grip from her shoulders, letting her free of his tightening hold. Seth took some steps backward, his eyes holding something he didn't want to tell her.

"What the fuck did you do, Seth?" she asked calmly, following his steps.

Their gazes did not waver still, but Seth did not carry his confidence so proudly anymore. "I'm trying to fix things so you still have a fair chance," he said, his voice breaking the slightest.

"A fair chance of winning."

"And what did you do to try to fix that?"

Her head was spinning. She tilted her head a bit, observing him. Observing the words he didn't say out loud.

She took another step toward him, her movements slow. But then a cold shiver ran down her spine.

"What the fuck did you do?!" she yelled and pushed him on his chest so hard he had to take a step back. Her eyes started to sting, her breathing hitched.

"You weren't supposed to be there!" he yelled back.

What the hell is going on now?

"You didn't, Seth..." she whimpered, realizing what he had done.

"You weren't supposed to be there," he cried. "You were supposed to be with Danielle, in the stable to feed the horses."

Her heart skipped a beat, and all the muscles in her face felt like they disappeared. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

He tried to take a step closer, reaching his hand out.

"Don't you dare touch me," she said, flinching her hand up.

She lifted her trembling hand to her mouth.

"You set my house on fire?" she cried. "With me still inside?"

Her mind cried a thousand thoughts at the same time as it was completely silent.

"Freya—"

"No, don't you dare Freya me," she cut him off, her voice laced with ice. "I was still inside, Seth." Her tears started to fall; she had no control over holding them back. "I almost died—you know that. You were the one saving me!"

"I never meant to hurt you... I would never if I knew," Seth said, his voice trembling.

"Fuck!" Freya had to draw her breath; it hitched in her throat. "I've had my fair share of sorrowful things happen to me, but I've never had someone try to murder me!" she yelled, her voice picking up strength, and so did the adrenaline pulsating in her body.

She launched against him, and her fists flew wildly, striking whatever they could reach—his chest, his shoulders. She didn't care where she hit him; all that mattered was trying to expel the fury burning her alive. She thrashed beneath him, twisting her body violently, her movements erratic and fueled by desperation.

Seth's hands clamped around her wrists and he forced her to step back toward the bed before he pinned her to the mattress. The bed creaked beneath her as her legs kicked out, fighting against his weight.

"Freya, stop!" His voice came sharp and commanding, but she barely heard it over the roaring in her ears.

She didn't stop. She didn't hesitate.

"You burned my house down!" she screamed, the words tearing out of her throat. Her voice cracked as tears streaked hot and relentless down her face. "With me still inside of it!"

Her back arched against the mattress, every muscle in her body straining as she fought against the pressure of his hold. "Get the fuck off me!"

His weight pressed her deeper into the bed, forcing her wild movements to still for just a moment as she gasped for breath. "Calm down!" he snapped, his tone rough with frustration.

"Calm down?" she spat. "You're insane! You're fucking insane! Get off me!"

Her nails clawed at the air, wrists twisting against his grip as her chest heaved with erratic breaths. Her body was on fire, a furnace of anger and adrenaline that wouldn't let her rest.

His face was hovering over hers, so close.

She froze, her breath catching as his grip tightened briefly around her wrists. His eyes burned into hers, and the space between them seemed to collapse in an instant.

Before she could yell some more, her mouth was no longer free.

Her whole world tilted upside down.

Their mouths intertwined, mixing their tastes and warmth.

It was not careful, it was not gentle. Their lips touched roughly, as if they needed to taste each other to breathe. Seth's grip on her wrists lightened, letting her arms loose. They immediately shifted to his shirt, pulling him closer if it even was possible. His touch, his hands brushed through her hair, then continued further down her arms—leaving a burning trace.

Desperate moans and heavy breathing escaped their mouths. Freya's hands went up to the back of his neck, letting her fingers brush against his skin before she gripped firmly and pulled him more toward her.

She couldn't get enough. She couldn't get enough of the euphoria surging through her. And when his hands shifted and started to brush down her sides, continuing down to her hips, she was sure her heart would crack from the arousal threatening to drown her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling roughly, and the sound he made in response—a low, guttural noise that rumbled against her lips—sent a shiver racing down her spine.

She gasped against his mouth, the sound swallowed by the chaos of the kiss. She felt like she was dissolving under his touch, every part of her consumed by the weight of him, the heat of him, the way he tasted like fire and sin.

And then Seth pressed his groin against her, feeling his erection pressing against her aching spot—she was afraid to burst right there and then. She had never felt this kind of passion, this kind of longing.

She arched against him, her chest pressing against his as her breath came shallow and fast. The weight of him, the heat of him, the sheer force of the kiss—it was everything.

She shouldn't want this. She couldn't want this.

But she did.

Her body, her mind, her soul.

Too much. Not enough.

She needed more. She had never felt as alive as she did at this moment.

A/N --- Now I just have to hear what my lovely readers think of this chapter<3

Love,
Kenna.