13. Ella
13
ELLA
D éjà vu hits as I stare up at the ceiling I woke up to yesterday.
Theias’ room. His bed.
Only I’m naked this time, and I have a vague sense of him between my thighs, putting me back to sleep last night after he stripped me down.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt safe around a man that when I passed out in his lap at the fight, exhaustion caught up to me, and I was dead to the world. I’ve never felt quite as secure as I do with Theias. Which is insane given that he’s made no secret about his ability to tear a man apart with his bare hands. Hell, I watched him nearly kill someone yesterday for touching me.
I’m in over my head here and don’t know what to do. My blossoming feelings for Theias are scary and overwhelming, but they feel right. Like, this is meant to happen.
Reaching over to the nightstand, I grab my phone and FaceTime the one person who has always been on my side. Even when I struggle to be on my own.
“Ella?” My little brother’s teenage face pops up on the screen, and I immediately gasp.
“Ollie! What happened to your eye?” He turns a little so I can’t see that much, but I know a black eye when I see one. “Tell me,” I demand, sitting up in bed, holding the blanket to my naked chest.
“I’m fine, Ella. Where are you, though? You left a vague note and not much else.” I hate to hear the concern in his voice.
Blowing out a breath, my eyes roam the room, and I know I should tell him. Oliver wouldn’t sell me out, but I worry…
“Oh my god! He hit you, didn’t he? Because you don’t know where I am?” My hatred of Blake grows deeper now.
Throwing off the covers, I flip the screen and scramble to get dressed.
“I’m fine, Ella. I can watch out for myself.”
“Like hell you can!” I take my big sister role very seriously, and I’ll never allow my brother to be hurt because of me. “I’m on my way home. I’ll be there tonight.” I have no idea how, but I will be.
“No, Ella. You can’t. He’s so pissed I think he might actually kill you.” I hate how afraid he sounds.
Dragging a sweater over my head, I turn the camera back around. “Do you really think I’m going to allow him to lay hands on you and not do something about it?”
“Ella,” he groans and pinches his nose, looking older than his fifteen years.
“It’s not your job to protect me, Oliver.”
“You’re right!” I jump and turn around to see Theias standing in the doorway, an angry scowl on his face. “That’s my job now. Whatever the fuck you think you’re about to do, think again, little girl.” Why does that angry growl make my sex tighten and my legs tremble?
“Who the hell is that?” Oliver sits up straighter, his tone slightly curious.
Dropping my shoulders, I blow out a breath and tilt my head back while counting to ten before turning the phone so they can see each other. “Oliver, this is Theias Lorde. I’m…working? For him. Theias, this is my younger brother, Oliver.”
Theias’ head tilts curiously to size up my brother, and I imagine the younger man might be doing the same. It’s all very surreal at the moment.
“You’re not sure if you work for a guy who looks like a hit man?”
Theias breaks out in laughter at Ollie’s question, and my nipples perk up at the sound, liking it very much.
“He’s not a hitman,” I reply, a little unsure.
With the way he talks and the things he does, I’m not sure he isn’t. Right now, however, he looks deadly and dangerous. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows, showing off some lethal ink, which also peeks out at his neck where his tie is loosely knotted. His eyes are in a constant state of molten lava, and unless you’re up close, they’re hard to read, making him appear threatening.
He’s also got this scar slicing through some of the ink on his throat, and now I wonder how that happened as I step closer, reaching up to touch the puckered skin, forgetting about the argument I should be having with the two of them.
Theias’ hands tightening on my hips shatter my focus as he shakes me a little and asks, “Did you think you were going back to L.A.?”
“Uhm.” I can’t lie to him. But I can’t find the words to tell the truth either.
“Yeah, she doesn’t think I can handle a punk,” Oliver shoots back. “I can hold my own.”
Theias’ darkening eyes remain on me as he speaks to Oliver. “How about you come to Vegas, learn to fight.” My jaw drops at the suggestion.
“Seriously?” He’s clearly excited as I shake my head no. He doesn’t need to learn to fight; he’s just a boy. “I’d love to! I’ll ask my parents. Call you later, El!” He’s gone before I can argue.
“Why would you do that?” I hiss, pulling from his arms. “Do you have any idea what I’ve done to protect him from violence?”
“If he’s here, then this asshole can’t touch him, and he’ll learn how to defend himself properly.” I notice his frustration over my objections.
“NO!” I spin around, pointing at him, anger boiling my blood. “You don’t get to make those types of decisions without asking me. He’s my brother, not yours!” Tears spring into my eyes, I’m so damn mad.
“Like you leaving me? To defend him against a man who has already beat the shit out of you. Raped you. Forced his wants and needs onto you.”
My heart shrinks, yet it pounds so hard I can’t breathe with every word he spits out.
“He didn’t…” I have to catch my breath. “He didn’t rape me. I could have said no.” Even as I say it, I know I couldn’t have. I know it wouldn’t have mattered to Blake. He’s always just taken what he wanted from me, never caring how much it hurt me. “He! Didn’t! Rape! Me!”
My legs give out, and I collapse onto the floor. I slam my fists against the plush carpet, screaming until I have no voice left, and I’m sweating from the effort. All while insisting I wasn’t raped.
I wasn’t.
I would know if I was, wouldn’t I ?
Strong arms wrap around my body as Theias drags me into his chest, protecting me from the outside world as I have a total meltdown in his embrace.
The truth is, I never said no to Blake, but I also never said yes. I let him do what he wanted because I couldn’t handle daily beatings. He stripped me down to nothing until I became no one.
“Tell me his name,” Theias whispers softly in my ear. The demand has now turned into a plea. He’s begging me for the name of my tormentor because violence is how he shows he cares.
“Blake Ramsey,” I choke out and sob into his chest until the day melts away, and I’m nothing but an empty shell in a woman’s body, needing to be reborn. But I won’t be. I’ll forever be branded his victim. The woman who couldn’t defend herself against a charming man, and the more I allow the visions of his rageful eyes and painful fists to flash through my shattered mind, the more I wish I could die.