Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ella
Say Don’t Go - Taylor Swift
I readjust myself in bed, trying to get comfortable under the covers. The rain batters at my window, heavy cords blurring the forest by our house. Alex went to Xi’s, and Peach got a call from her dads to go home for the night. It’s not so bad since I can’t hold a conversation with this horrible headache, and I’m still trying to finish that essay.
With my laptop on my lap, my heavy eyes read over the few words I’ve written, but I can’t focus. And it’s not just because I feel like death. Something is crawling inside my stomach. An anxiety that makes me check my phone every two minutes to see if I have a text from the Circle. It’s almost 8:30 p.m., and I don’t know what to do.
I’m not meant to have a choice. If a Shadow calls, I have to present myself at the temple. And they’re going to be sending a car. It’s not something I can avoid, is it?
Swallowing the fear, I close my laptop and decide to accept the truth. I initiated into this society. I became an Aphrodite. The consequences come with what I had to do to keep Mom and Luke safe. Throwing the covers to the side, I force myself to go to my closet and pick a comfortable black dress. I wear simple underwear too. I don’t want Megan’s dad to think I made an effort to be pretty for him.
Prometheus. I wonder what his real name is. I had never heard of this man before, and I have no idea when he became a member of the Circle. All I know is he wants to see me tonight, and I have no choice but to go.
When I check myself in the mirror, my blue eyes are shining. Not from excitement, but rather the kind of unshed tears of someone with a fever. And that’s exactly how I feel and look. My eye bags are prominent, and I barely have the energy to lift my arm as I brush my hair. There’s no amount of makeup that will cover the defeated look of my dull skin. So I don’t even try. The last thing my eyes stay stuck on is the Aphrodite necklace I wear. That small seashell that means Prometheus gets to call me to the temple.
I look out of the landing window before I go down. It’s 8:29 p.m. and there’s no car, but I’m sure they’ll be right on time. So, I walk down the stairs with a dejected sigh and a renewed fear that makes my spine feel like a steel rod. Is this really my life?
The walk to the door feels surreal, like I’m walking on cotton and the rest of the house is zooming around me. I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m dissociating. When I open my front door, I look up at the dark gray clouds in the night sky, stopping the moon from shining through. But I’ve barely stepped one foot outside when a shadow comes from around the corner, pushing me back in and slamming the door. The shock brings me back to reality, and I’m about to scream, when a hand slams against my mouth, pressing me into the wall .
“Didn’t I tell you not to go?” he scolds in a hissed whisper.
Chris’s voice slows down my heartbeat, my body recognizing I’m not in real danger. I try to shake my head to be able to answer, but he doesn’t budge.
“Do you think I’m going to let Gabriel McLean put his hands on you? Don’t be na?ve.”
I wait for his grip to relax, but it doesn’t. Only a few seconds later, there’s the sound of steps thudding on wet ground and a knock on the door. Chris brings his finger to his lips, telling me to stay quiet. It’s not like there’s much I can do anyway. I keep my eyes on his, observing the drops of rain dripping from the strands of caramel hair on his forehead. His lashes look longer when wet, bringing a new softness to his features. There isn’t an iota of evil on his handsome face. It’s probably what’s made it so easy to keep up the appearance of Mr. Perfect Gentleman. Everything in him screams kindness. And even with the knowledge of who he really is, I find myself getting lost in his eyes.
I jolt when there’s another knock on the door. We don’t move, stuck in the darkness, no lights on, in a limbo of my warm body against his cold one. His wet clothes against my skin tell me he’s been waiting outside my house for a long time, checking what I would do. He was ready to catch me if I went, ready to stop me.
I just want to know if it’s out of jealousy or protection.
Or both.
My eyes widen when a dark voice outside calls my name.
“Ella Baker? Are you home?”
My breathing accelerates through my nose, body stiffening from fear. Only my chest rises and falls erratically, forcing my breasts to press against Chris’s soaked black button-down. He brings his free hand to my chest, caressing the lines of angry red skin from the hours I spent scratching it. Carefully grazing the pad of his thumb over them, he keeps my eyes captured in his whiskey ones.
“Ella, this is John from the Stoneview Community Foundation.”
That’s the name the Silent Circle hides under. A fake charity most of them use as a tax deduction to then have the money circle back to themselves.
“If you’re in here, I’d like to remind you that tonight’s event is compulsory for members of the foundation.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, the fear of disobeying making me jerk in Chris’s hold. I have to go. I can’t risk this. I push against him, my hands holding his forearm to try to get his hand off my mouth. But he holds me back effortlessly, pinning me harder against the wall. I whimper against his palm, and he puts his lips on my forehead, whispering discreetly.
“Stay.”
And just like that, I hear retreating steps, and all that’s left making noise outside is the rain hitting our porch.
His grip relaxes, and he slides his hand to my cheek. “For heaven’s sake, Ella. You’re burning up.”
“I’m okay,” I croak. A lie, but I need to convince myself.
I sense a tension growing inside him, and he takes a step back, clearly trying to contain himself. “You know how I feel when you’re unwell and don’t take care of yourself,” he growls.
“I’m a big girl, and I don’t need you to take care of me for a stupid cold.”
“Did you take any medicine?”
“I—”
“Were you in bed resting? ”
“I was until?—”
“Did you eat? Are you drinking enough water?”
“Not yet, but?—”
“Go to the living room. Right now. And don’t make this worse on yourself. I’m angry enough as it is.”
I open my mouth one last time, but I know this is a lost cause. When Chris wants to take care of something, there’s no fighting it. And I’m too tired to try.
Like my body wants to tell him he’s right, I sneeze as I make my way to the living room, and I’m a shivering mess by the time he brings me a blanket and tea. I eye him up, unsure what to do, but he cuts it short for me.
“Don’t even think of refusing me anything. You were going to go to the temple when I explicitly told you not to. The only reason you’re not being punished right now is because your body can’t take it. Be obedient, Sweets, because I don’t want to have to tally up by tomorrow.”
I silently take the tea from him, sipping on it while he arranges the blanket on my knees. He leaves and comes back with a glass of water and some pills.
“For your fever.”
Setting the tea aside, I switch it for the medicine and water, and then put that on the table too.
“I don’t want to fight tonight,” I admit in a rasp. My throat feels swollen and hurts, and my eyelids are heavy. I just want to rest.
He kneels on the rug in front of me and delicately puts a hand on my thigh. “We only have issues when you refuse to accept the inevitable, Sweets.”
I shake my head slowly, a huff leaving me. “There is no inevitable. I don’t want to go back to being under your thumb. I was your secret in high school, and that is exactly what’s happening again. You just added who you’re hiding me from.”
“But this time, I know I’m going to have you in the end. And don’t tell me I’m delusional again, because you know I’ll take it all up a notch. The next step in persuading you could be too much for you to handle.”
I take a deep breath, some kind of distress making my muscles ache on top of the fever. I don’t want to ask, but I have to. Chris is so good at putting up that innocent front that I have to dig to discover what he’s truly capable of.
“What will happen if you do everything you can to have me, and I still refuse?”
“That won’t happen, Sweets.” He caresses my cheek, then my hair. “You won’t have to worry about choosing. By the time I’ve freed myself of Megan, there’ll be no choice at all for you.”
I swallow thickly, my chest tightening. “You scare me when you say things like that.”
“Good. Hold on to that feeling tonight while I take care of you. You tend to forget how far I would go to have you, and it makes you act naively. Just because I can’t be on your case all the time doesn’t mean the plan changes.”
He digs his amber eyes into mine, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Like a man at complete peace with his choice. “The plan never changes.”
“I don’t want to know whether taking care of me is part of your grand plan to ruin me and make me yours.” I close my eyes on a long blink and open them again. “Not tonight. Just give me you. The you I know. My Chris.” I hesitate before adding, “Please.”
His eyes bounce between mine, his face falling into a visage of adoration .
“I want to give you all of me and more, Ella. Anything you want from me, you can have.”
I nod, closing my eyes as a smile settles on my lips. Those words feel too perfect to add anything to them.
I sense him standing up, and he gives me a soft kiss on the forehead. “I’m going to make you chicken noodle soup.” My eyes open again and land on his pocket as he keeps talking. He’s fidgeting with something in there. “Do you have everything I need for that?”
I nod. “I do, but I’d rather eat loaded fries than soup.”
I smile brightly at him as I look up just in time to watch his eyebrows raise.
“You? You’d rather eat loaded fries? You used to have a go at me when I tried to make you eat anything other than a salad.”
Through a wave of sadness, I shrug. “I don’t dance or cheer anymore. Counting calories was mainly for ballet.”
He pulls out his phone, and I watch him open the delivery app.
“We’ll order whatever you want, Sweets. Twice your bodyweight in fries, for all I care. But don’t think you won’t dance again. The second I have full ownership of you, you’re dropping law and going back to dance.”
I feel my face twist at his words. “Don’t talk about me like I’m some toy you’re going to have full ownership over.”
“You’re not a toy,” he says, and I know there’s more, so I cock an eyebrow. “You’re my toy.”
Sitting down next to me, he slides a hand under the blanket to caress my thigh. “My sex toy I get to play with whenever I want.” His hand goes up, making me squirm. “My little doll I get to dress however I like.” Higher. “My puppet on a string who does whatever I please.”
He cups my pussy under the dress I’m wearing, making me tremble with need. I can’t remember at what point I’m meant to push him away. Am I too late already?
“Isn’t that right?” he purrs in my ear. His thumb grazes my clit over my panties, and I bite my lip to stop any sound from escaping my mouth. But my eyes flutter shut, and I nod to answer his question.
“My good girl.”
His hand disappears, and I whimper as my eyes fly open.
“You’re ill, Sweets. You need rest.”
And it’s true. My body is at the end of what it can take. So I let him pull me until my head is resting on his lap. I let him order us food and pick all my favorite toppings on the loaded fries. And when he opens his streaming app and turns on my TV, a stupid stupid smile sticks to my face.
“Which crappy holiday romance is it going to be?” he asks, caressing my hair. “They’ve got Valentine’s Day , New Year’s Eve , Holidate , Love Actually ?”
My heart melts and spreads warmth through all my limbs. There’s nothing like a man who knows you. Someone who knows the little things you like. Like my weird obsession with holiday romance movies. And yet, I want more. So I push him just so I can get that silly satisfaction.
“You know my favorite,” I murmur.
He doesn’t even look down at me, nodding to himself. “ Valentine’s Day it is.”
Chris hates these kinds of movies. He’s worse than a boring old man. He reads plays and poems. His favorite place is the library. He enjoys Shakespeare’s sonnets because, apparently, they make sense to him. He reads about history, Greek mythology, religions. He takes care of everything around him, no matter the level of importance. Hell, the only videos he watches online are live trials of current court cases.
I’m a mess who only puts in effort when it comes to her passion or to feed a lie to keep my reputation intact. I scroll on socials for hours on end, worry about my appearance more than my brains. I not only watch stupid romance films, but the same ones over and over again.
But watching them next to him while he rests his arm on my side and hip is different. Watching them while he feeds me loaded fries and makes me another hot tea feels like I’m losing myself again. Letting him take care of me at my lowest makes me feel safe and scared at the same time. No one will ever care like he does, and my heart is in trouble for it.
I fall asleep before the end of the movie and only wake up as he’s putting me to bed. And I think I fall asleep again, but my hand to my chest wakes me up. Because anxiety never sleeps.
When I hear myself whimper, Chris is on me right away, his strong fingers fisting my wrist and pulling my nails away from my skin.
“What is it?” he whispers, turning on the lamp next to my bed.
“I-I don’t know,” I croak. My voice is barely audible when I add, “I’m scared.”
He lies down next to me, and we face each other. “Talk to me, baby. What are you scared of?”
My thoughts clear, and I focus on the feeling inside me. It’s never easy to pinpoint, especially recently. But tonight, something prevails over the rest.
“I didn’t go to the temple,” I murmur. “What if they punish me? ”
His silence tells me I’m not wrong to worry. “Oh my god,” I gasp, sitting up.
“I’ll talk to them,” he assures me, his voice calm. “I’ll tell them you were ill. Or that I had you for the night.”
“Amazing,” I snarl. “ Sorry I couldn’t come, another man was using me. ” I pull at my roots, letting my head fall to my knees as I hug them to my chest. “Fuck.”
I feel him shift, and his voice sounds somewhere else in the room when he talks. “It’s two a.m., Sweets. Now is not the time to think about this.”
He comes back and caresses my head, so I look up. He’s holding the box of pearls and string he gifted me. Taking the string out, he knots one end, and pushes the other through a needle.
“Chris…what are you doing?”
Is he really planning on making a necklace at 2 a.m.? Apparently, yes, because he takes a pearl and gives it to me.
“Give it a task.”
“A task?”
He nods. “What’s the next step?”
“To go back to sleep, I guess.”
“Be more specific,” he says.
I huff, running a hand through my hair. “To lay back down.”
“Okay. Put it on.” He offers me the needle linked to the string, and I put it through the pearl. Then he looks at the mattress pointedly, and I lay down.
“This is stupid.”
“It works for you, and you know it. If something helps, then it isn’t stupid.” He passes me another pearl. “Again.”
I roll my eyes, but I do it anyway. “To close my eyes.” And I put it through again .
I look right at him when I do so, and that’s when I realize he’s topless.
God have mercy on me. This man fell from heaven and somehow chose to stay on earth for me. His olive skin glows in the yellow light, and with the way it hits his beautiful eyes, they are a mix of amber, brown, and dark green that shouldn’t even exist. My eyes roam from his Adonis belt, up his defined abs, strong arms, wide shoulders. They stop at his sharp jaw.
The corner of his mouth tips knowingly. “Why are your eyes still open, Sweets?”
I giggle. “Because you’re beautiful to look at, and I don’t want to miss one second of it. Do you have any idea how hard it is to resist you?”
His mouth presses into a line, and I can see it’s because he’s stopping himself from smiling brightly. He doesn’t manage, though. My admission has his gorgeous shy smile curving his mouth in the most beautiful, authentic way.
“I think it’s the fever talking,” he whispers.
And when tiny pink spots come to the surface of his cheeks, I burst into a laugh.
“How can someone who looks like you still be so shy about compliments?”
He buries his warm face in my neck. “Stop,” he groans.
With his soft curls tickling my cheek, I shift to drop a kiss on his forehead. “All the girls in high school were at your feet. All the girls in this college talk about you. Oh my god, Chris Murray is back in town… They’re all fawning over you, and you get shy on me because I tell you you’re beautiful?”
He finally rises again, wrapping a strong hand around my jaw and pouting my mouth. “Go to sleep, woman.”
And when he lets me go, I don’t even think of what woke me up. All I think about is that the next task is to fall asleep next to the man who makes my heart do very reckless things.
He’s not here when I wake up. But there’s something next to me in bed. The necklace we started yesterday and a printed copy of the essay I have to hand in to Professor Reeves. The essay I hadn’t finished but that is now completed.
I stretch and grab the note he left.
Sweets,
I took a task off your list so you could rest a little more today. Don’t forget to hand this in before 5p.m.
One pearl at a time.
C.
I fall back against the mattress and curl onto my side to smell the pillow where he rested.
My heart accelerates, my limbs numbing as a wave of giddiness slams into me.
Sweet orange and cedar tree.
The smell of love and trouble.