Motel Nowhere

[Oriena]

She could unhook his inhibitions like she had with Ryker. Hell she didn’t think Nox would even be capable of saying no if the temptation got too difficult to deny, even without the power’s aid. But she’d tried that game once, and ultimately it held no further appeal. She preferred the unpredictability of choice. “I don’t need your pity. Or your protection.” She shouldered past him into the shithole motel room. He was wrong about her being fried. This was comfortably numb, the voices in the back of her head more like distant static. Chances were Nox didn’t keep alcohol or anything else remotely fun in this place. She regretted not taking a bottle from Almaz. Or passing out on the bar before he’d ever finished the fight.

She ignored the compliment. She didn’t give a fuck what Nox thought of her, and she already knew she was hardly his type. Rejection powdered up in sugary sweetness was still rejection, and Ori had already tasted that once tonight. Her gaze raked him coldly in response. She didn’t take the chair offered, and for now hoisted herself up onto the kitchen counter instead. You’re not worth the risk, was all she heard in his dismissal, and it pounded in her head like a cacophony.

[This is how it ends. This is how it ALWAYS ends].

“I don’t give a fuck about your rules. Or anyone else's for that matter.”

[No one ever cares, Lady of Sorrow]

[Only us. Let us in]

“Don’t let me stop you from sating that hunger,” she said. It wasn’t said kindly.