6. Elijah
ELIJAH
I t’s no surprise when the church bells start to ring, reminding us of where Rebecca and William expect us to be. The sun rose a while ago, and I watched it through the window. I was right. There was no sleeping last night.
My eyes burn, and my head feels like it’s packed with cotton, but I get up anyway because I still have things to do. Appearances that must be kept up, if only for Tristan’s sake. He could come back home at any minute to wash up for church, and I have to be ready for him. I know Dad won’t be.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper to Leona when she stirs. “I’ll be back.”
She mumbles something—I don’t think she really woke up, only reacted to me getting up from the bed.
That’s good. Let her sleep. While she’s asleep, she’s away from all of this. It’s the only escape she has now.
I’m surprised to see Dad’s bedroom door open and his bed empty, but it all makes sense when I find him passed out on the couch downstairs with a half-empty whiskey bottle spilled on the floor. He must have gone downstairs for more once what he was drinking earlier ran out. Enough is never enough.
“Dad.” I shake him harder than I need to, knowing he’ll have a hangover after everything he consumed. So what if I caused him a little extra pain? How much pain has he brought us?
He opens one bleary eye and glares up at me. “What?”
“The bells are ringing. And Tristan will be home soon to get ready for church. Try to pull yourself together.” I pick up the bottle and take it to the kitchen, then bring back a dish towel to mop up what he spilled on the floor.
All he does is sit up and hold his head in his hands, groaning and muttering in misery.
At least he perks up a little when Tristan comes through the door.
“Let me go upstairs and get dressed,” Tristan says, and as always, the words spill out one on top of each other.
He always talks so fast, like he’s in a hurry.
All that energy makes me jealous right now since my body hates me for not giving it any rest last night.
“Better hurry up. We don’t want to be late.” He’s the reason I’m doing this. I need to remember that.
“You better take him today,” Dad mutters, rubbing his temples. The sight of him makes me sick. This is all his fault.
“What, you can’t get it together long enough to sit through services? How’s that going to look? You being one of the elders and everything.” I can’t afford any extra attention. It’s bad enough Leona’s here. I don’t need the rest of us being under a microscope.
“We can’t leave her alone. What if something happens, and she’s tied to the bed? A fire, something like that?”
He might as well be made from glass; he’s that easy to see through. “Do you really think you should be left alone with her?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You weren’t that drunk last night—yet,” I remind him, and I can’t help but smirk when he winces. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. If there is so much as a scratch on her, Rebecca won’t be able to get as much money as she’s counting on. And you know how unhappy that’s going to make her.”
He hates that I’m right. He hates that his son can see through him. I don’t really care. So long as he’s out of here and away from her, he can think whatever he wants.
He drags himself upstairs and washes up while I check on Tristan in his room.
“I’m going to hang back today,” I tell him.
“I’m not feeling well.” He has no idea what I’ve planned, of course.
How this is our last day at New Haven. The last time he’ll ever see his friends here.
One day he’ll understand. He’ll even come to understand why Dad can’t come with us.
I run a hand over his curly, dark hair and force myself to grin. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get home.”
He rolls his eyes and blows out a sharp breath. “It’s boring.”
Now I don’t bother grinning as I crouch in front of him and take him by the shoulders. “Make sure nobody knows you feel that way.”
“Oh, I know.” It’s the way he says it, how he scowls, that reminds me of what I’m doing. Why I’m doing it. He shouldn’t be so aware that something’s wrong. I doubt he could put it into words if I asked him to. He feels it, though, and that’s enough.
I pretend to ignore the nasty look Dad gives me before leaving the house with Tristan, and I watch from the window until they blend in with the other families headed in the same direction.
The white wood plank building is set up higher than the rest, like it’s always reminding us of how we’re supposed to act and what we’re supposed to do. I can’t wait to never see it again.
By the time I get back upstairs, Leona is awake, and I watch as the fear on her face softens to relief when she sees it’s me coming in.
“Good morning.” I go straight to the rope around her ankle and untie the knot so she can use the bathroom, which she gets up to do without saying a word. I’m not going to force her to talk. I’m sure she has a lot on her mind and in her heart. I don’t want to make it worse.
Still, I wait for her, fighting with myself while staring at the closed door.
Back and forth, yes or no, right or wrong.
How am I supposed to do this? Yes, I’ll get Tristan out of here, but I’ll carry her in my memory for the rest of my life.
There will never be a day when I don’t wonder what happened to her.
Where she ended up, and what they did to her.
But this is the only way. It has to be. My brother needs me.
When she opens the door, though, and looks at me with those dark eyes full of fear and pain, it’s easy to forget what I’m in this for. “I don’t know what to say,” I have to admit.
“You don’t have to say anything. I meant it last night. You can’t help me, and I understand.”
But I want to. I’m not brave enough to say it out loud, so I don’t, taking her back to the bedroom instead.
“Do you know when they’ll come for me?” She’s trying so hard to be brave, but I hear the tremor in her voice.
“Sometime tonight. They always come at night, so people won’t notice.”
“That makes sense.” She sits down on the bed, bouncing her knees up and down. “So all I have to do is wait. No big deal.”
“Dad and my brother are at church. We could go downstairs and get something to eat.”
“No, I don’t have any appetite. I would probably throw up,” she confesses with a grimace.
“Is there anything I can do?” It’s kind of a shitty thing to say. I’m surprised she doesn’t laugh and call me out for trying to make myself feel better. Like eating breakfast in a kitchen rather than tied to a bed is such a huge gesture.
She doesn’t laugh, though. “You know what you can do for me. The same thing I asked you to do last night. That’s all I want.”
Right away, the part of me that kept me from fucking her last night rears up and tries to shut the idea down. “That can’t happen. I already told you.”
“We’re alone. Nobody would have to know but us.
” When all I can do is sigh and fight against the temptation, she stands, pulling off her dress, making me grunt in dismay and desire.
“I know you want me. And I want you, too. Please, touch me. I need to remember being touched by somebody who actually cared.”
I’m weak and stupid.
I’m going to do it. Because it’s all I want, to hold and touch her and be inside her. I only got a taste last night, but I want—need—more.
That’s why I don’t push her away when she places gentle hands on my chest.
It’s why I let her unbutton my shirt until she’s touching my bare skin. It’s like her hands are fire, lighting me up and burning me. I want them to. I want her to keep going.
When her fingers graze my waistband, she looks up at me, and there’s nothing for me to do but take her face between my hands and press my mouth to hers in a deep, searching kiss full of regret and sadness.
That’s quickly pushed aside by desire, the craving she effortlessly stirs up in me.
Kissing and touching her smooth, soft body isn’t enough.
I lay her down on the bed while she unbuttons my pants and pushes them down along with my shorts so when I stretch out on top of her, there’s nothing in the way.
Nothing stopping my hard dick from rubbing against her plump mound.
We both groan into the other’s mouth at that first contact, and when I reach between us to touch her pussy, my fingers come back coated in her juices.
She wraps her legs around my hips and pulls me in. “Please, Elijah,” she whispers between kisses as her nails dig into my ass until I hiss. “Please, give it to me. I want to feel you inside me.”
I’m so weak. I should say no, and stop this, but I can’t resist anymore. Not when the heat from her pussy draws me in and promises so much. She’s not the only one who needs to forget for a little while. And if this is all I can do for her, then why hold back?
First, I rub my head through her slit, and right away, her nails bite into my skin.
“Oh, yeah, keep doing that,” she whispers, rocking her hips, bearing down on me.
I let her, even if it means gritting my teeth and fighting like hell not to come.
She’s so wet, and her soft moans mix with the sensations running through my body until it’s almost impossible to keep myself from letting go.
“I am going to come,” she whimpers, gripping me tight with her arms and legs. I close my eyes and bury my face in her neck, holding on while she shudders and gasps and drenches me in more of that wetness.
I can’t help it. I can’t wait anymore. She’s still coming when I find her quivering hole and pierce it with the tip of my cock.
Her back arches, and she gasps. I push deeper, past the barrier that tries to stop me, deep into her pulsing tunnel. Her muscles are fluttering, and she’s so tight I can hardly move.
“Hurts…” She gasps. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
I don’t, but I go slowly, easing my way back before pushing forward again. Slowly she relaxes, and soon she’s moving with me, like her body knows what to do on its own.
I lift my head and watch her face, the way her mouth falls open and the flush that builds on her cheeks. And when I grind against her clit, her eyes fly open and meet mine, hazy with pleasure, the way mine probably are.
“Come for me,” she whispers, gazing up at me. “Come with me.”
I don’t think I can help it, moving faster, leaning down for a deep, hot kiss as the pressure builds and the tingle at the base of my spine turns into something stronger.
Her high-pitched moans are lost in my mouth before she tightens around me, holding me in place before that fluttering starts again, like a million tiny fingers massaging my cock until I can’t do anything but let go while still inside her.
That might have been the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, but I can’t say I’ll ever regret it.
Not when the rush passes, and we’re in each other’s arms, and everything feels right for the first time in as long as I can remember.
Everything makes sense. There’s no reason it should, but it does.
This is where I’m meant to be. This is who I’m meant to be with.
And when she looks up at me with her mouth curved in a soft smile, I know she feels the same. She doesn’t have to say a word.
“I need you to do something for me.” I pull out and already feel the loss of her. I already want to be back inside.
“What is that?”
“I need you to trust me.”
“I do.”
“No, listen to me. You’re going to have to play along. I can’t let anybody know I’m on your side and that… I’m going to protect you.”
She gasps, her eyes widening. “You are?”
“I’m going to find a way. I just need you to remember that whatever I do or say, I’m on your side. Okay?”
I was wrong. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, here and now. Because the hope written all over her flushed face means I can’t possibly let her down. “Okay.”