[Note: Rated borderline M. Just short of being completely graphic.]

'Piece of shit.'

Nakiri Erina gazed across the room with repressed anger, and an inhumanely severe smile. In fact, the smile looked so utterly dangerous, that anybody prudent enough understood that distance from her equaled their chances of survival. They did not know why she was pissed, nor did they understand what had caused her to become so, but they did know that any query would lead to certain death.

She stood alone, looking impossibly beautiful. Unquestionably more than any woman present in the entire hall. Her long blond hair was free, but gracefully in order. It shone brilliantly in the light of the many lamps, and magnificently complimented her flowing magenta dress. Her violet eyes were alluring under a thick set of lashes, and sparkled with a passion. A passion bordering on the desire to commit murder.

The few gentlemen who'd been daring enough to come to her at the beginning of the gala, to ask for a dance, were now nowhere to be seen; probably pondering the extent of human coldness. She'd flashed them the same smile, when they had asked her if she had a date for the event, and said one simple word. 'No.'

Then, she'd widened her smile to imply two more words which didn't belong in sophisticated conversation. Definitely not at the gala her grandfather had called to celebrate the beginning of the third year of their batch. The gentlemen had bailed. Some had cried real tears of fear.

She looked at the glass of champagne she held in her hand, and downed it in one go. Then she gritted her teeth, and wiped her lips with the back of a hand in the most unladylike manner she knew.

She looked to the left of the big room and saw Alice drinking away, talking almost seductively with Ryo. The stoic boy had a small smirk on his face, hinting at a sublime enjoyment. They seemed happy.

In the other corner, were Megumi and Takumi. Their smiles were pure, and their eyes never strayed from each other. She was leaning slightly towards him, and laughing subtly at the things he was saying. They, again, seemed happy.

In fact, almost the entire hall seemed happy. Couples danced away, others chatted at various points along the marbled walls of the Nakiri Mansion's ballroom. The waiters and the waitresses moved around the hall with trays of champagne flutes and snacks. The students were thoroughly pleased at the thought of having Senzaemon's blessing in gulping alcohol. They drank like their lives depended on it.

Erina's eyes suddenly stopped wandering. They wanted to turn in a particular direction. She knew what they wanted to look at.

She balled her right hand into a fist, and dug her nails into her skin. She would not look there. She didn't give a shit. The delicately glowing skin of her neck tensed, as the muscles went taut. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew she was going to look there.

She turned.

At the most unlikely corner of the room, near a pillar by one of the massive doors, was a small crowd of interesting composition. There were maybe six or seven women, all outrageously pretty, chatting away excitedly with someone. A man.

His long-ish red coloured hair was greased back in a throwback to the sixties, but two loose bangs fell down a side, casting shadows that complimented the contour of his face. The light glimmered softly on his skin, accentuating cheekbones and the strong jaw that had popped out as the baby fat had melted away. His nose had become more angular, and thinner, solidly shaped at the end in an air of self-assurance. His eyes were long and drawn, dark with a thick set of lashes. Even from the distance, they seemed to sparkle with the slightest hint of mischief.

He was speaking to the girls calmly. Like a master in charge of his own emotions, feeling no need to show any more interest than was necessary. His smile was naughty, but polite. Uncaring of the fact that he was basically the star of the batch. That any woman in Totsuki would sell her soul to get him.

One of the ladies reached out and touched his beautifully tailored suit's sleeve, gripping his forearm. He didn't seem to protest, and flashed her a smile. She laughed loudly, like she was in a trance. No longer in her own control.

Erina nearly breathed fire.

She picked up another glass of champagne from the bar beside her, and gulped it down. Then she breathed heavily.

'Rotten piece of horse shit.'

She drank some more, unable to tear her eyes away. Looking, angered beyond her wits, as the woman pressed herself against his arm. As a couple more girls joined the group. She watched, as he entertained them. Allowing them to be in his company. Allowing them to feel his aura, his unnaturally calm and charismatic character. As if he were public property.

Her breathing became choppy. She could almost believe she'd started to smell blood.

'Erina.'

She didn't budge. She didn't even look at the man who had come up to greet her. Her eyes were still fixed on the hand on the forearm, and the laughter echoing from that side of the room.

'Erina, may I have the next dance?'

The man beside her was devilishly handsome. Sui Tanaka had passed out from Totsuki Academy last year, one year her senior. His grades hadn't been great, but his face had won him many hearts. Erina herself had, in her first year, liked entertaining the occasional conversation with him.

Now, it was a different case altogether. She couldn't spare a passing shit about any of the other men in the room.

She turned to him slowly, with bloodshot eyes, and the unnerving smile, which had frighteningly grown in size.

'I'm not dancing tonight. Sorry.'

In two seconds Tanaka had scurried away, a look bordering on absolute terror and an imminent cardiac arrest on his face.

Erina's head turned of its own will, and her gaze flitted back to the pillar by the door. She nearly choked on her own breath.

He was looking at her.

She gulped. Her mind went blank.

His gaze flitted for a second to where Tanaka had been standing a couple of seconds ago and then back to her face. He smirked in amusement.

Her face burned. She tried to breathe, but it didn't work out too well. She was pissed, even more than she had been a few moments earlier. Her nails dug deeper into the skin of her hand, as she tightened the ball of her fist further.

He was enjoying this.

She watched, as another woman inched closer to him, as they rubbed against him. As they behaved like he could perhaps eventually belong to them.

Like he could ever possibly belong to them.

Her breathing became even more irregular, and her anger finally allowed her to turn away for a second. She picked up another glass from the bar, gulped it down, and tried to unsuccessfully steady her breathing as best as she could.

Then she turned. The people around her seemed to fade away, and she looked at the door.

She started walking, rapidly, rubbing a hand against her collarbones. She didn't register the looks of the numerous boys as they looked at her in awe. She didn't care.

In a few moments, she was standing in front of the door, and the doormen were opening it. She used all her willpower to not cast a glance at the pillar nearby; and then, she was outside in the empty hallway. She walked to the opened window opposite her, and let out her breath.

She breathed heavily a few more times, the colour of her face starting to normalize as the blood flowed out. Her mind was still a mess, but it would unwind. She hoped that it would.

She ran a hand through her hair, and settled her face into her other palm; elbows propped up on the railing.

'Brilliant party, huh?'

She was certain her heart had stopped.

She whirled around, and there he was. He had a mocking smile on his face now, and his eyebrows were curled in pronounced intrigue. She gulped multiple times.

'What a-are you doing outside?' Her voice was coarse.

He smiled at her, standing a polite distance away. She understood exactly what he was doing. It aggravated her to understand that he had the power to do this. She wanted him to say it. The truth. She wanted him to accept it, and then gloat in that fact. She wanted him to admit it, so that she would at least feel a slight sense of victory in this. She knew that he would not admit it.

'Got bored. I'm heading back to my room.'

And with the slightest bow of his head, he turned away. In a few moments he was at the staircase, beginning to climb down, his pace languid, his cologne dominating the air.

He didn't turn back.

Erina shivered, weakly using her arms on the railing for support. She realized she hadn't been breathing, and gulped in air, preciously filling herself. Trying, desperately, to ignore the fact that his smell lingered. To convince herself that it didn't please her.

Just as he was about to vanish beneath the line of the staircase, Yukihira Soma turned. He looked at Erina with what she understood was a smile of undiluted pleasure, and he winked at her.

Erina froze.

A few moments later, her throat convulsed thickly in a gulp. Her smile had vanished, and her lips were almost back to being their usual thin line, except for the slightest twitch at the corners.

But her eyes were clouded, weak and tired from the entire event. There was a slight edge to them, like they'd been allowed a small and very unsatisfactory peek at something they desperately wanted. Something they had once beheld, but were then deprived of.

There was a light thunder in them, and she knew nobody in the entirety of the academy would understand what it meant. Nobody, but that handsome red haired demon.

It signified raw desire.

The first time it had happened, had also been the moment it had all started. It had been exactly two weeks prior to the gala. It was a Monday.

'Listen, I- oh.'

Erina stood staring at the other side of the door, suddenly bereft of any understanding. Her hand was still in the air, from where she'd knocked on the door; behind her was one of the massive windows of the Polar Star Dormitory. The wind was cold, and the moon shone brightly behind a lone cloud in the sky; as if watching her. As if the only worthwhile worldly event was beyond that window on the third floor of the Polar Star Dormitory.

The mansion was empty that night; the students had all gone for the end of the year excursion to Hokkaido. Erina hadn't enrolled for it, because of the task her grandfather had given her. The task that she had been asked to finish with the partner he had chosen for her.

Yukihira Soma stood across the door, a mixture of surprise and confusion on his face. His hair was a mess, freshly dried, and fell over his face. The towel was slung over his shoulder. His body was bare, save for a pair of plain black shorts, and small droplets of water were scattered, sparsely, over his ripped physique. He smelt of cloves and musk. Erina caught herself staring at a knot of muscle on his abdomen. She became vaguely conscious of the worn t-shirt and shorts she was wearing.

'Nakiri?'

The surprise in his voice jarred her back to reality, and she remembered why she had come there. Her face felt hot, and she hesitantly raised her eyes to his face.

'I, uh. Grandfather had asked me to see you if you agreed with t-the new responsibility structure for the Elite Ten.'

She tone was bleak, but she did not spare it much thought. She realized she couldn't spare it much thought, because of the startling mess that had suddenly come over her mind. She gulped once, attempting to reign in the focus she had lost, but didn't taste much success. Her mind suddenly seemed to linger on subtle hints of clove and musk.

In front of her, Soma had regained composure, and was presently walking back into his room; having motioned for her to come in. As he turned, Erina's eyes lingered on the expanse of his back, looking, almost with an uncharacteristic greed, at the many knots that decorated his strong frame. Her eyes traveled downwards, much on their own, and settled momentarily on his butt. She stood majorly entranced, surprised at the firmness of its shape.

She shook her head, remembering that she was supposed to follow him inside. Inside his room, where the vaguely alluring smell still lay. Her eyes widened, like she had chanced upon something she wasn't supposed to think about. Like her thoughts were no longer a private safe haven.

She walked inside, chiding herself for getting distracted, but doing so unsuccessfully. Her gaze fell upon the many pictures that garnished the walls of the room, as Yukihira opened his cupboard and put on a T-shirt. One photograph caught her attention; a capture of the two of them, smiling childishly, after having defeated the schemes of her father and Central, at the end of their first year.

Erina smiled in nostalgia, remembering the time. They had all been ridiculously happy, celebrating the entire length of the journey back from Hokkaido. The rebels had been over the moon, and that had also been around the time when many new depths had been reached in the bonds shared by most of them. She remembered how Takumi and Megumi had stuck together for most of the journey back, recounting their experiences from their fight against Rindou.

She remembered also how she had quietly retired to her cabin in the night, as everybody had started to get drowsy. How only a few of them had been left in the room when she had got up, and just as she had been about to leave the room, she had caught his eye. Yukihira Soma had said that he would come along, and asked her if she wanted some dish he had cooked from his diner's special menu. She had agreed to both of his statements.

They had talked late into the night, and she'd told him more about her family. It had been liberating, the feeling of being able to finally unwind, to finally let go of the apprehension she had cradled within her soul ever since the dark days of her childhood.

He'd nodded understandingly, and she'd felt unnaturally warm. At the end of the night, he had given her the dish; a mesmerizing preparation of ham and eggs, and had cracked some ridiculous joke about three chickens walking into a bar.

She'd realized that she was infatuated with him.

Presently, the older Soma came and sat down on the bed, next to where she was sitting. She gave him the sheets of paper, and he looked at her sarcastically, as if asking her if she actually believed he would have anything to add. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he grunted, studying the papers. He was the number two to her number one. He would oblige till she lost that post.

She studied his neck. The breath caught in her throat, and her eyes started to get clouded. Despite the fact that the two of them spent most of their time together at school, and that she found herself more in his company than even Hisako's, they had somehow, almost agonizingly, never breached the boundaries of a platonic relationship. Yukihira Soma was, even though friendly with most of the students, known to never be too open about his more private emotions. She agreed that he had, indeed, become a lot more mature over the past year.

As he had grown even better looking, she'd seen a larger part of Totsuki's female populace run after him. He hadn't ever bothered with them, but she had been very bothered by it. Never openly, but ever agonizingly in secret. As for her, the courtships had only increased over the last year. Hisako had once mentioned how she looked downright enviable, with her chiseled face, and her voluptuous figure; and she had awkwardly handled the situation, laughing until it bordered on frightening.

And now, she had seen what he looked like beneath the light material of his T-Shirt. The stupid, annoying, worthless piece of shit that covered his body.

She realized that she'd started zoning out, delving too deep into thoughts that carried her away. Blinking once, she saw Soma looking at her eyes. Blinking again, she understood that the sheets of paper were already folded away neatly on a table nearby; probably that way for a long time by then. As she slowly turned back to his eyes, she saw the hint of something dark and mischievous in them. His lips were curled in a vague smirk.

'Nakiri Erina,' he drawled, his voice deeper than usual, 'Were you checking me out?'

'W-WHAT?!'

Even though she had intended it to be a scream, it came out as a yelp. His smirk widened as if in confirmation. As if he had realized long ago, but allowed her to continue all the same. As if he'd savoured every moment that her eyes had spent travelling down his frame.

She became vaguely aware of a haphazard beating in her chest that sped up every second, like it was being chased by some kind of predator. Like it was on the verge of getting caught, but somehow, perversely, to get caught was what it wanted the most.

She gulped.

'Shut up, idiot. N-nothing like that.'

But the stammer in her words gave her away. He grinned.

Just then, his face was an inch from hers, and his eyes probed deep into hers. She gulped, as for the first time; he allowed her a small glimpse into himself. And she looked, not needing to search long before she understood that there was the hint of something in his eyes. Something that was more than just mildly reflective of what she harboured.

A shiver ran up her spine, but it wasn't from fear. He seemed to smile, taking his time, his movements gradual.

'You're nuts. I'll leave for now,' she said bleakly, standing up.

His smile turned sideways naughtily, and he breathed out, the smell of spearmint bursting into the air. He shrugged.

'Okay.'

She blinked. Huh?

She stood frozen, looking at him. Her eyes were rimmed with blood around the edges, from an anger that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. Understanding dawned, and she realized exactly what was going on. She gritted her teeth, cursing herself, realizing how she had just tipped the scales entirely in his favour, by standing up. Anything that was to follow was up to her now, but victory was suddenly impossible.

She tried to move her legs, but it was almost like she was built of stone. Time froze, and she began to lose all semblance of what surrounded her. The chilly night breeze rattled the windows, and she bit her lip. But it wasn't from the cold. Not even remotely.

She took a deep breath, and sat back down on the bed slowly, gradually scooting right in beside him, with her back to the wall. She didn't look at him but his silent gloating practically filled the whole room. She fumed inwardly for a second, and took a deep breath. Her mind became thoroughly disorganized.

'You're not leaving?'

The feigned innocence in his voice almost made her smirk, but her face was a mess of distorted emotions. She took a deep breath again. One side of their arms and shoulders were pressed against each other, even though there was plenty of empty space on the bed. Their legs touched at the thigh, and she realized how smooth and warm his skin was. She gulped thickly.

She looked up, and saw his face inches above hers. Her breathing went on a rampage, no rhythm, no pace. She eyed the muscles on his neck, and realized that the longing probably showed on her face.

She steadied herself for a second. She became vaguely aware of the sweat on her chest as it heaved. If she wasn't going to win anyway, she wasn't going to hold back at all. She grinned weakly.

'I don't want to.'

A second later, they were kissing, but there was nothing tender about it at all. They pressed against each other, settled on not wanting to let the other win. Their smiles were primal, showing the desire within to dominate the other.

The table by his bed was the first object to go down; she toppled it as she kicked their t-shirts off the bed. When his skin touched hers, she felt like she was burning, and that there couldn't be anything better. His smile widened against hers, and she knew he felt the same.

A minute later, he threw their pairs of shorts aimlessly, hitting the lamp on his desk, and sending it crashing down. Neither of them seemed to care; neither of them seemed to even hear the sound. She laughed weirdly, and he mirrored her. He turned her over, and pressed her against him. She pulled him closer, and dug her nails into the skin of his back. She heard him gasp, and followed with greater gusto.

When he pulled off her bra, she tackled him down and his hand hit the switchboard above the bed; the light went off. She felt him muffle out the word 'Shit' against her lips, and laughed. He smirked and responded by turning her over again, pressing her down.

He took her then and there, and she pressed just as hard against him, panting wholly out of sync with him, but their hearts beating in a wild and fuelled tempo against each other. The heat rose, as he beat against her repeatedly, and she gasped, biting into his collarbone.

After a long time, when they lay on the bed, the sheets pulled over them; they looked like they'd gone to war; bruised, spent, and battered. But they were still smiling weakly. She looked into his eyes, and saw the same imposing smile on his face, and she fought right back with one of her own. He pulled her closer, and she giggled softly.

She didn't know when she fell asleep. But she remembered that she was the first to get up. Sunlight had filtered into the room softly, not yet in full bloom. A sweaty scent lingered in the room. Telling, but subtle. She had sighed coarsely, and smirked, not nearly content. As if unwilling to stop a tiring swim. As if still brimming with adrenalin.

She had donned her clothes, and just then taken account of the mess they'd made of the room. She had smiled deviously.

Just before she'd left, they'd looked at each other. Their grins were tuned, as if in silent agreement to something. Part of a silent conspiracy. Unwilling to give away the slightest hint.

Nobody was to know. Yet.

Presently, Erina bounded back to her room. She'd started to sweat, the weight of her velvet magenta dress irritating her in the unusual warmth of the night. She scratched her neck as she pushed the door open with the elbow, and strode in, very much in haste.

As the door closed shut and locked behind her, she'd already started to undress. The carefully tailored piece went flying to the nearest chair, and she walked to her cupboard to pull out a black vest and a pair of shorts.

Once on her bed, her mind regained its sense of purpose. Which was tremendously disconcerting for her, for she understood exactly where it was about to head.

Somehow, the agonized monster within her seemed to be less concerned with the redhead at that very moment, and settled, instead, on the woman who had gripped his forearm. Erina thought she remembered her, some rich heir to a British food-chain whom she had interviewed earlier last year. She recalled that the girl was popular amongst her classmates, the second years.

She frowned carnally at the thought of him entertaining a younger girl. It made her feel ridiculously small somehow. Like there was some shortcoming to her, or, perhaps, the younger one had something Erina didn't. The thought made her curl her toes, and she realized that her chest had started to warm up alarmingly. She hadn't ever had to deal with concentrated jealousy until then, but presently, she felt something dark begin to consume her.

She turned over, and punched a pillow. The ire rising as her focus shifted, and she looked at the massive baroque themed clock in her room. Night was about to arrive, and that idea made her feel like something was blocking her throat.

The other invitees to the ball would now start to file out, and proceed towards the dinner that had been organized on the other side of the estate, which meant that the mansion would be empty. Quite out of her own control, her mind flitted back towards another part of the halls.

She remembered her grandfather's invitation, the special one he had sent out, to his most favourite pupil. Her heart started to race as she thought of him being there. Yukihira Soma, staying the night at the mansion, at Senzaemon's request. In the same house as her, just a few corridors away.

'Stupid, shitty bet,' she groaned, her face in the pillow. She gasped as the room started to feel mildly claustrophobic. Suddenly, a need to gulp something possessed her. She took a breath.

Climbing out of her bed, she walked to the little telephone that hung beside the row of her room's windows. Starlight painted the entirety of the place a pale shade of blue, but it didn't serve to have the calming effect it generally did on Erina. She took the receiver of the phone, and dialed the mansion's room service number.

The ring echoed in her mind, taunting her throat which seemed to grow coarser by the second. A few moments later, a man answered at the other end.

'Yes madame?'

'Send me a bottle of Pouilly Fume. Fast.'

'Sure, madame.'

She cut the line, and stood there. Her chest heaved in a sigh.

A certain memory from around a week back weaved into her consciousness, and she was trapped again. Leaning against the wall, she bit her lip, remembering the decision that had fast emerged as her bane. She frowned, recalling the dark shade of the wood, and the heavy air within the place in her thoughts.

She remembered the battle she had so unwittingly started, and now, was repenting thoroughly for.

The second time was etched with a startling mixture of happiness and annoyance, at least on the part of Nakiri Erina. It had invaded her life two days after the fateful Monday.

As if to heighten the agony due for some sin of hers, the students had returned from Hokkaido on the very afternoon following the most satisfying release of her life. She had been moody, and looked at anybody who had dared to come and greet her in the coldest manner possible. The old lady Fumio was back at Polar Star, and that trampled all over the wishful ideas that had taken over her mind.

In furtherance of her ire, Yukihira had acted absolutely normal towards her that day. She'd understood that that had been what they had agreed upon, but somehow, his nonchalance aggravated her. A rage burned within her heart, pulsating with something dark. Almost wishing he would tackle her down right in the middle of an Elite Ten meeting. She grinned occasionally, thinking how scandalous it would be for a First Seat and a Second Seat to engage so aggressively amidst a council holding.

On several untimely occasions throughout the day; between classes, at lunch, at the Council Building; she had found herself staring shamelessly at him. But he had been occupied with his work; the Second Seat toiling more diligently than the First. The First, who didn't have any semblance of thought anymore. The only object of whose mind now lay in the sharp features of her first colleague's body.

Tuesday had rolled along, and the night had left her feeling weak. Shadowed areas of the campus had conquered her dreams, and emerged as the sets of the acts of her new little obsession.

The following evening, it had grown impossible for her to take it anymore, and she had bounded along the halls to a corner of the empty Academic building. The students were all away, registering for the new Research Society journals, catching up on their respective projects for the new semester. The halls were silent, but she walked with a steady head, her stomach tingling suddenly.

She'd found him in front of the library, fiddling with something inside a closet. Her pace had quickened at the sight, and a savoury grin had spread over her face.

At the sound of her steps, he'd turned, and looked at her in surprise. He'd blinked, caught completely unawares. His uniform was dusty from the work he'd been doing, and his tie had come slightly undone. Erina's grin had widened.

'Nakir-'

'Oh, shut up.'

She'd tackled him into the closet, and his surprised exclamation had come out muffled as her mouth had spread over his. The door had closed shut, and very soon the darkness had become pressing and thick with sweat.

After that, they'd started screwing like rabbits, and soon Nakiri Erina hadn't been able to look at any secluded part of the campus without blushing. She'd felt liberated, and unfathomably thrilled. He'd come to her on occasion; once, behind the bleachers in the gym, again, in the bushes by the lake. She'd grinned like a lunatic, reflecting his, and followed him wherever he'd pulled her.

A frenzied week later, they were inside one of the massive cupboards for storing the potato sacks; which she'd earlier emptied very inconspicuously for the upcoming festivals. Her uniform was undone haphazardly, and her tie was twirled loosely around her neck. His shirt was missing a few buttons, and she'd laughed looking at what she'd made of his trousers.

They'd been pressed against a wall of wood, and she could feel his choppy breath on her neck, exhausted from the whole exercise. She'd smirked and pulled his face into hers, kissing him, filling his mouth with her tongue.

'I should put a tax on myself,' Soma had mused softly, laughing mischievously against her lips.

'Taxes are for things the public has access to,' she'd whispered back, tackling his lips with a bit more severity.

'Is that permission?'

She'd growled, turning him around and pressing him against the hard, dark wood.

'A death threat, Yukihira.'

He'd laughed, and pressed her against him. Somewhere inside Erina, however, her ego had been raked at the thought of Soma snogging somebody else within the confines of Totsuki's darker parts. Suddenly, she'd thought of bleachers, and closets, with husky groans, and herself unaware; somewhere else. It had fuelled a newfound anger within her, and a moment later, she'd taken a step back with an index finger pressed against his bare shirt. Her eyes had sparkled in a dance of pride and want.

He'd raised an amused eyebrow at her, a nouvelle smirk playing on his lips.

'Actually, two can play at that game,' she'd slurred out, slightly dizzy from the past half-hour.

He'd blinked, and then raised both eyebrows. 'Yeah?'

The fire within her had grown, and the words were out of her mouth before she had even considered them properly, 'Let's cut out on this for a while, and place a bet. Whoever comes back for it to the other first, loses.'

And within a second, she'd started regretting it, her pride making her bite her lip down to not curse herself. His smirk had been thickly demonic, and she'd seen his eyes light up at the prospect of a sudden challenge.

A gulp had pulled at her throat in pre-imminent defeat.

He'd smiled.

'You're on.'

Erina paced across the carpeted floor of her room, growing more annoyed with every additional second Room Service took to get the bottle to her. She dangerously bordered the premise of losing her wits absolutely, and taking out her anger at Soma on the manager of their mansion's food supplies.

The night had settled in aggressively, and outside her window the air seemed tense with something she couldn't quite understand; like it harboured a secret it was unwilling to divulge. As if it too had been deprived of something it desperately, but silently, wanted; its pride twisting a knife in its own heart.

Her air conditioner was switched off, because she'd ended up getting pissed at the unnatural heat of that evening. A rebellious streak in her had made her want to show it that she could triumph over its challenge. She'd cursed out loud, at nothing in particular, and then proceeded to ignore the pressure on her breath and the now-dense smell of sweat in her room.

She flicked her gaze towards the door, and exhaled angrily. She was reigning in curses for the steward or maid they were going to send to her room. Her mouth was a dam holding in a flood like barrage, but she didn't want to ponder what the subject of her angst was.

A couple of moments later she walked over to her balcony in a daze, indifferent to the evening, deriding her own situation. She looked out. In the distance, a small circle of lights glowed; Totsuki's outdoor dining space. She wondered distractedly whether he had gone there as well. It killed her inside, and buried her in renewed torment. His indifference killed her. His momentary lapse in the form of that smile made her falter. The rage mingled with her strange confusion.

She frowned, suddenly weakening to almost unwanted tears, and punched the railing. She didn't cry. She simply felt suffocated.

The doorbell rang.

She was on her heels, gaining on the door. Suddenly, she'd forgotten any semblance of being she'd held and the anger had devoured her completely. The steward was in for deep shit.

She paused at the door and exhaled sharply.

Then she clenched the handle, and flung it open.

'You worthle-…'

She blinked. The world was red.

'Ouch.'

The grin pressed in on her suffocation, and put her in place. Her mouth hung, open and forgotten; and her breath got lost somewhere in her throat. Her fingers grew light on the handle of the door, her cognition suddenly muddy. Anger left her; her knees threatening to wobble. The scent of cloves and musk conquered everything.

It was windy outside now; the heat of the evening suddenly non-existent. The strong breeze from the series of windows of her room blew in; red hair ruffled softly. Occur eyes, deliciously devilish, bore down on her, pinning her to the ground.

'You look like you're dying.' Yukihira Soma's voice was sultry.

He held a sparkling bottle of Pouilly Fume in his hands.

Erina took no notice consciously of the fact that she was supposed to reply. The shock kept destructing her inside. She noticed the translucent complexion of his skin, and the shadows above his eyes. She was entranced by the hint of his strong pectoral muscles visible between the two buttons of his shirt which were undone. She moved her lips, but sound failed her.

'Nakiri.'

She gulped. Her voice returned bleakly.

'Y-yes?'

'Here's your order.'

She looked at the bottle as he handed it to her. A muddled sense of memory within her tried to remind her of the wine she was fussing about so aggressively not more than just a few minutes back. Had he met the steward? Had he tapped the line between her room and the food service? The thoughts got lost in her head. She kept staring.

She looked up at him, and realized that he wasn't much far away from her. His breath of spearmint burned inside her nostrils. The subtle smirk did not go away.

'Uh, thank you.' Her voice was a croak.

He stood there looking at her observantly, and didn't respond. It was as if he couldn't bother to respond, because they both knew how full of shit Yukihira Soma offering Nakiri Erina a bottle of Pouilly Fume out of the blue at night was. He leaned against the door, and exhaled shakily.

Erina stumbled back a step. She fixated on his chest, which heaved subtly. She felt muscles churn deep within her stomach. The aggravating sense of falling down was back. The mess of her mind became absolute. She tried to take another step back.

He grabbed her hand.

The shock that rippled through her felt distinct, very realistically electric. She gasped, and her lips started shaking. The pale blue light from the sky coloured him in a monotone, but every shade on his features seemed to drip with a separate story. She saw him come inside her room, still holding her hand, and the door swing close behind him. They stood like stone, the silence highlighting the rhythm of their choppy breaths.

Then he was against the door, and she was kissing him furiously. It felt liberating, and like a welcome surrender. She pressed against his body, and felt that warmth which had devastated her dreams for days. His hands traveled roughly against her vest, and she moaned. He grinned against her lips.

Her ego got razed to the ground, and her pride had already surrendered. It was a spirit of humble enquiry that now encroached upon her psyche.

'What?' she whispered coarsely, biting the smug curve out of his mouth.

He waited for a second. Another breeze came in and ruffled his hair, fanning it against her face. She exhaled moistly on his chin. The smirk returned.

'I'd come to say "You win".'

R&R?