34. Eli
34
ELI
T he space beside me is fucking cold and it shouldn’t be. I fell asleep in the jet’s tiny bedroom with Freya in my arms only now she’s gone.
I sit up and check my phone. It’s two in the morning and we’ve still got another three hours till we get to L.A.
I throw back the covers and chuck on a pair of gray sweats before heading out into the main cabin. The plane’s engine hums under my bare feet but the flight is calm. The sight before me? Not so much.
Freya kneels on the floor of the jet, bent over the dozens of images and papers spread along the aisle. Her laptop is open on the desk and more case files litter the surface. Messy, ginger waves tumble forward as Freya pours over the documents, rearranging the images, chewing her thumb. She screws up her face and pushes a photo away with the palm of her hand, sending it skidding under the seat. She looks crazed.
She hasn’t noticed me yet, too caught up in her own world. Her frustration builds and she digs her nails into her arm, dragging them across the skin hard enough to leave red marks behind.
Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.
I stride over to her, not bothering to avoid stepping on the papers, and pull her to standing.
She blinks up at me.
“There are only four people in this world who are allowed to mark you and you’re not one of them,” I tell her. Only River, Jude, Oz, and I get that pleasure.
She scowls up at me before her gaze drops to the chaos on the floor.
I pinch her chin and guide her back to me. “You should be sleeping.”
“I’m not tired.” She pushes my hand away.
My brows lift, not believing her in the slightest. Gray half-moons sit under her eyes and her cheeks are paler than normal. The jet tilts a little and she sways on her feet.
I grip her upper arms and guide her to the nearest seat. “Sit down. I’ll be back.”
She doesn’t grace me with a response, her fingers already dragging an autopsy report over to the edge of the table so she can read it again.
I shake my head and go back to the bedroom. The space is little more than a square with a small double bed and hollows in the walls on either side that serve as bedside tables. I grab my duffel bag out from the overhead locker and find the sleeping pills Oz gave me for Freya before we left L.A. She’d been doing okay the last couple of nights but seeing Josh today, followed by finding out about her mother and the Dying Angels, is a lot to take in. It’s no wonder she couldn’t sleep.
I go back to Freya, finding her staring at the photo of a beaten-up Josh. I slip the phone out of her hand and cross to the mini fridge.
“I think we’re missing something,” she says as I grab a bottle of water.
I let her talk because I know what she means. It doesn’t make any sense that Freya’s dad would take Josh, or arrange for him to be taken, only to leave him alive. I thought for sure the warehouse was going to be a trap but there was no one waiting for us. It was too easy.
“He could have just been trying to get us as far away from your mother as possible. Us being in Quantico has bought him more time to get to her.” I place the water on the table and crouch down in front of her.
She rests her arms on my shoulders, her hands twisting in the hair at the nape of my neck. “I can’t stop seeing Josh, lying there in the warehouse. And Lexi back in L.A., bleeding out under my hands. There’s so much blood, Eli.”
“Josh is stable,” I remind her. Luke called before we got on the plane. He’s not regained consciousness yet but they’re confident he will. “Come on,” I say, rubbing her knee. “You need sleep, this isn’t helping.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. I can’t do nothing when he’s out there killing. All the people he’s hurt. I need it to stop Eli. It’s too much.” She tries to twist back to the files. “There has to be something else.”
I snag her wrists. “Freya, you need to stop.”
“I can’t,” she snaps. She pulls free from my hold and buries her hands in her hair, doubling over on herself. When she looks up at me again, her eyes are haunted. “My mother… if she’s alive. Arthur Maxwell doesn’t let people go. I had to fake my death to escape him. If she’s not dead, if he’s had her all this time… What the fuck has he been doing to her?” she whispers the last words, like the possibilities the question poses are too fucking dark to say aloud.
I slide my palm around the nape of her neck and hold her steady. “Whatever we find, we’ll deal with it. If your mother is anything like you, then she’s a fucking fighter.” I run my thumb over her goose bumped skin. “But this,” I wave a hand over the paper debris, “what you’re doing here, isn’t healthy. It’s not going to help. What will help is you getting some sleep.”
She winces.
“Give me your hand,” I say.
Wariness pinches her face, but she holds out her hand, palm up. She tries to pull away when she sees the pill bottle I take from my pocket, but I hold on to her wrist and tip two of the white tablets into her palm.
“I’m not taking sleeping pills,” she hisses.
I drag my teeth over my bottom lip and nod. “Yes, you are.”
“Eli, you can’t just?—”
I take the pills from her palm and snake my hand around her throat, pulling her down towards me. “Freya, sweetheart, I’m not giving you a choice.”
Her cheeks flush pink but I’d rather take her anger than see her destroying herself like this. She grips my wrist but that just makes me squeeze a little harder. Not enough to take her air away but enough to warn her that if that’s what I need to do to get her to take the damn pills then I will.
“You need sleep. You’ve been waking up with nightmares for weeks now, and being so tired you can’t stand straight isn’t going to help catch Maxwell.” I lean in closer. “Do as you’re told. I could have slipped these in your drink, and you’d have been none the wiser.”
She juts her chin out, pushing into my hold. “Should I be thanking you?” she bites out.
I smirk at her fire. “You can thank me later, kitten, preferably on your knees.” I tap my knuckles against her chin. “Tongue out.”
She works her jaw, the muscles in her neck flexing under my palm.
“You need sleep,” I say again, my voice softer.
Her eyes flutter closed, and her body loses its fight. She sticks out her tongue, letting me place the pills at the back. She grabs the water off the table and takes a swig then goes to stand up.
I hold her in place with a hand on her hip. “Open,” I order.
She huffs in disbelief but parts her lips so I can check she’s swallowed.
I press two fingers into her mouth just for the hell of it and run them around her cheeks and under her tongue.
Her eyes flare and she closes her lips around my fingers, sucking hard, grazing me with her teeth.
My cock swells.
The rosy pink of her lips glisten as my fingers pop free. I hold back a groan and lift Freya up at the hips, hooking her legs around my back. I’ll sort out the mess she’s made of the plane later. Right now I need to get her into bed.
She’s still sulking but she doesn’t fight me when I undress her and slide one of my T-Shirts over her head. I give her ass a tap and pull back the covers.
She climbs in from the bottom of the bed, a cute little scowl on her face. It’s amusing until she tugs the comforter up and curls into a fetal position as far away on her side of the bed as she can get.
Now I’m the one scowling. I climb on after her and hook my arm around her waist, yanking her into me till her ass presses into my still hard dick.
“What the fuck, Eli?” She twists her neck to look back at me.
“Shh, go to sleep.”
“You can’t just order me to go to sleep.”
“You’re right. The drugs will take a little while to kick in. In the meantime, I guess I better help you relax.” My hand dips under the covers, making a beeline for the sweet spot between her legs.
Freya grabs my wrist. “I’m mad at you.”
“You can be mad at me all you want, doesn’t mean I’m going to stop looking after you.” I brush back her hair and kiss the spot on her neck that always undoes her.
Her eyes flutter and the grip she has on my wrist loosens a little.
I take advantage, cupping her mound and pressing the heel of my hand down until she sucks in a sharp breath.
“Eli.” The word’s a warning. She’s still pissed off that she’s not the one in control here, but I just nip at her ear lobe.
“Stop fighting me, Freya. Haven’t we done enough of that?”
She makes a noncommittal sound, and I brush my fingers over her curls.
“Besides,” I say, “in a few minutes you’ll be dead to the world. I could slide my fingers inside this pussy and keep them there all night long and there’s not a single thing you could do about it.”
Her whole body shivers, the trembles vibrating through my stiff cock. A desperate moan slips from her lips and her hold on my wrist goes slack.
“Had a feeling you might like the sound of that.” I ease one, then two fingers inside of her tight heat. She’s burning velvet under my touch and having my hands on her like this again makes my chest tighten and loosen at the same time. I want to bury myself so deep inside of her I leave a permanent mark.
My thumb flicks back and forth over her clit. I feel the build up to her release coil around me, her core tightening, her chest rising but it’s not enough. I need more.
I withdraw my fingers, pull back the covers, and roll her onto her front. My fingertips settle between her shoulder blades when she whimpers. “Shh, I’ve got you.”
Her face is pressed sideways into the pillow, and I tilt her chin till she’s looking up at me.
“You still with me, kitten?” I ask, checking her eyes to make sure the meds aren’t clouding her judgement.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “I’m good. This is good.”
“Good,” my voice deepens, my need for her a visceral thing. It’s not rainbows and sunshine. Everything about me is tinged with gray and if I’m completely fucking honest, I’m not sure I could have stopped even if she wanted me to.
I shove down my pants and notch myself at her entrance. I groan. Sliding into Freya feels like coming home.
Her eyelids flutter. They open briefly only to close again, her lips parting as the drugs kick in and her body softens underneath me.
I fuck her slowly. Even as she drifts away I can feel her arousal, slick and silken around my cock. My girl likes this. I brace my arms on either side of her and lower my upper body so I can whisper in her ear. “My darkness sees yours, Freya.”
A soft sigh leaves her lips and her core ripples around me as she comes. The sensations tip me over the edge and I bury myself deep, her cunt milking my cock with every pulse.
She doesn’t move as I pull out. Her breathing settles into a steady rhythm and I press a kiss to her lips. She can fight me all she wants but I will never again stop fighting back. Freya was made for me.
I was a fucking idiot, and she doesn’t realize yet that I’m serious. That I’m staying. But she will. Even if I have to fuck her to sleep every damn night.