5. Sebastian
CHAPTER 5
SEBASTIAN
O ur gazes collide, and I hate the horror filtering through her blue depths. Before I can tell her it’s going to be okay her eyes slip closed. Panic rips through me, and all I can do is reach for her so she doesn’t hit the floor. I snake an arm around her middle and tug her trembling body closer, cradling her and taking her slight weight easily.
Did she pass out? Is she hurt?
Like magic, her eyes flutter back open, and I damn near sigh. The thought of losing her again, in any capacity, is unfathomable. Maybe it’s the exhaustion and fear making her fade in and out. Her mouth opens and closes half a dozen times, like she wants to say something but she can’t speak.
It doesn’t matter; she doesn’t need to say anything. I’ll take care of her and whatever happens in the future.
"Shhhh, you’re okay, Ely. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re safe now." I try to soothe her, but my voice against her ear sends her thrashing.
With more strength than I anticipate, she twists out of my hold and pushes me away, or at least tries to, though all she manages to do is put a foot of distance between us. I peer down at her tiny hand, pressing against my chest, her touch burning into my skin through the cotton of my T-shirt. I wasn’t sure if she’d be alive when I found her, or if there would even be anything to find. Fuck. I take half a second to relish the feeling of her body pressing this close to mine.
It took burning through my good will with Grady, Aries’ contacts, and all of us driving around for hours, checking shit hole after shit hole until we found this fucking roach motel, and I don’t want her here another second longer than necessary.
But her touch, even if it’s to push me away, helps to ease some of the ache in my chest.
She peers around the room, her features pinched tight with fear, like she’s expecting someone else to jump out at her. Giving her head a frantic shake and sending wet strands of mousy brown hair everywhere in the process she mumbles, “I’m not safe. Not with you, and not if I stay here. It won’t be long till he shows up. Till he finds out what I did.”
“You’re always safe with me. Always. ” I reassure her, but I know she doesn’t believe me. There's a wild look in her eyes; she’s in fight or flight mode right now, her every instinct honed to hostility.
She fights against my grip, trying to break free, but subduing her is easy as I lift her off her feet, wrap both of my arms around her middle, and give her no room for escape.
“Who is he ?” I ask while walking out of the room, carrying her out to the parking lot. I’m pretty sure I already know who she is referring to, but I want to make certain.
“My father. My life is over when he finds out what I’ve done.” She whimpers and kicks out her legs, her heels slamming into my shins.
I grit my teeth against the slight irritation. I’d walk through fire for this woman, so if she wants to escape, she’s going to need to try harder. I turn in the direction of Lee’s tricked out Jeep and climb into the backseat. Elyse continues to struggle in my grasp, but that only encourages me to hang on tighter. You’ll never be free of me, Little Prey.
"Relax. I've got you."
"I can’t relax. Did you not hear me? My father is going to come! He’s going to come and when he sees what I’ve done my life will be over!!” Her lips tremble. Seeing her like this, so broken and hurt, makes me insane.
“I killed him. I’m a murderer. A murderer.” She’s hysterical, and it’s not even what she’s saying that makes me pause. It’s more the earth-shattering sobs of pain and anguish she releases between each sentence.
“You aren’t a murderer; you’re a survivor, and there is a difference. No one is going to judge you for protecting yourself, and that’s what this was, Ely. It was you protecting yourself. Do you hear me? You’re not a monster, or a murderer. You’re a survivor of a really shitty situation.” I gently rub my hand against her back to console her.
My gaze tracks outside the car, though. I need to figure out if what she’s saying is true.
The window is partially rolled down, and I yell through it to Lee. "Where’s Drew?”
Lee tips his head toward the door as Drew steps over the threshold and back outside. His face is tight, his mouth set in a grim line. Not good.
Looking back at me, he gives his head a little shake and then mouths the word, “Dead.”
It’s exactly the confirmation I need. I’m not mad. The fucker deserved it. I am, however, angry at myself that Elyse now carries this weight on her shoulders. She will be forever scarred by this day and what she had to do to survive, and there’s nothing I can do to ease the pain or guilt to follow. I know from experience. This changes things.
She finally settles on my lap, but her lithe body continues to tremble. There are droplets of blood on every inch of her exposed flesh, and her wet hair has soaked the ripped shirt she’s wearing. My shirt. Shit, she’s probably cold. Along with being traumatized.
She hasn’t told me what happened yet, but she doesn’t have to say anything, not with all the blood on her. If this wasn’t such a fucked up, dire situation, I might even tell her how proud I am, but something tells me it would make things a lot worse for her.
"Deep breath, Little Prey. Walk me through what happened. Tell me so I can help you," I keep my voice low, calm, even though inside I’m raging. There will be plenty of chances to express my anger in the future, but right now my biggest priority is her.
Peering into her blue eyes, I make note of the vacant look there. She’s so lost and broken right now, and it kills me because I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her, how to ease her pain.
“I… I can’t. I can’t think about it. I can’t…” She lets out an earth shattering sob that squeezes my heart in a vice-like grip..
“Shhhh, it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’ve got you.” I gently caress her back, and she collapses against my chest, burying her face into the crook of my neck. I hold her tight to my chest, wishing I could mend all her broken pieces.
We’re still waiting for the guys. After a short while, I gently ease her away from my chest so I can inspect her a little closer. My fingers prod her neck, shoulders, and head, skimming over every inch of flesh.
I make note of a large knot on the back of her head, still oozing blood. She winces when I touch it. I wouldn’t be surprised if she needs stitches. Dr. Brooks will have to take care of that, though. Besides the head wound there are various bruises and cuts I believe came from our romp in the woods and not Yanov, and stupidly, that makes me happy. The joy is fleeting when I spot her arm hanging limply at her side. The entire appendage is swollen, all the way down to her fingertips.
Fuck . I hope it’s not broken. The urge to walk into that lousy motel room and rip Yanov apart threatens to drown me. It doesn’t matter if he’s dead. I’ll still take joy in dismembering his body piece by piece. It’s what he deserves, but it’s not happening. At least right now. It would be selfish to leave her here alone, dealing with the barrage of emotions. She needs me, needs my protection far more than I need vengeance on that fucker.
Twisting around, careful not to jostle her, I grab the gym bag from the back of the jeep and drop it into the seat next to us. I tug the bag open one handed and examine the contents. Workout clothes, towels. I grab a T-shirt, bring it to my nose, and inhale. It’s clean. No telling with Lee sometimes, though.
I send up a silent thanks to our amazing housekeeper at The Mill, then find a pair of sweatpants and the plain cotton shirt, and turn my attention back to her.
"There’s blood everywhere, and God knows what else all over your body. I’m going to clean you up and get you into some different clothes, okay?”
She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at me, so when she doesn’t fight me, I carry on. I strip the shirt off her with some effort, because she decides to thrash around then, her hands moving to cover her breasts. I try to remind myself that her reaction has little to do with me and more so what she’s endured, but it’s really fucking hard. Watching the terror fill her eyes. Forcing her to stay put. I’ve seen fear more than once in her blue eyes—hell, I’ve put it there myself more than once before—but this is different.
The way she’s looking at me, it's like she thinks I’m here to kill her.
I wipe as much blood as I can off her with my old T-shirt and toss it into the gym bag, then I use one of the towels to dry and clean her the best I can. There’s still the stain of blood on her face, fingers, and around her nails, but that can wait. Nothing a hot shower and bar of soap can’t fix. I tug the T-shirt on over her head, and then lay her out onto the seat and put her in the sweatpants, tugging them up her thighs and tightening the waistband at her hips.
Once I’m finished, I reach back into the bag and pull out some stretch bandage. Her wrist needs to be wrapped, at least until I can get Dr. Brooks to take a look at it.
“Stop. It hurts.” She whimpers, trying to tug her arm from my grasp.
“It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you’d stop fighting me.” I grit through my teeth, my patience wavering.
This time she listens and stops, allowing me to finish. Next comes some gauze for the blood on the back of her head. I press a wad against the spot, with added pressure to stop the bleeding. A whine rattles from her throat, and her eyes pinch shut.
"Breathe. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll take care of this. I’ll protect you.”
My voice seems to draw her back to the present, and some of the fear bleeds out of her haunted gaze. "How? How can you protect me? How can you stop the inevitable from happening? The moment my father finds out what happened he’s going to blackmail me, use the murder as a weapon to control me. I can’t… I won’t… I’d rather die than live like that again.”
It's the first full sentence I've gotten out of her, and it both terrifies and pisses me off. She'd rather die than be her father’s captive, but I’d rather die than let anything happen to her. I won’t lose her again, but especially not to herself.
"Don’t talk like that. Your father is a minor inconvenience. We'll take care of the body?—"
"Yeah, you've got practice with making bodies disappear, huh?" She gives me a hateful sneer.
I chose to ignore her comment. I doubt she knows what she is talking about, and even if she does, she only knows what she remembers. Not the truth. Not what really happened that night. She was injured before I stepped foot in that office.
"I have various methods of getting what I want, and I will use every single one of them if it means you’re protected against our enemies.”
“I don’t want your help or protection. There is no us . Let me go. Let me be free before it’s too late.”
There is no us. The words echo back at me, and my anger flares. The fuck there isn’t.
I tighten my hold on her, because I’m afraid she’ll slip through my fingers all over again if I don’t. “That’s where you’re wrong. I didn’t ask what you want, nor do I care what you want right now. My only concern is making sure you’re safe and protected from what’s to come. And even though you’re in a traumatized state of mind, I want you to understand that no matter what, there will always be an us. There is no you, or me . There is only us .”
“Nothing you say or do will stop my father. He will hurt me. Use me. Break me. I will be trapped all over again.” Her voice cracks, and the pure anguish in her words brands me like a hot iron.
She’s afraid. So afraid she’d rather die than face him.
I have to do something…
An idea pops into my head, and once there it refuses to leave. I could make her mine, forever mine. It’s reckless and stupid, but it will save her. Months ago I never would’ve considered what I’m about to say, or do, but now…nothing else matters.
“Your father will have no say in what happens. I’ll give you my name, and that will provide you the protection you need.”
“Give me your name?” She stops struggling and stares at me as if I’ve said something insane. I guess it might seem insane from her point of view, but it feels normal to me. It feels right. Am I crazy for suggesting we get married? Sure. Is it wrong to force her into the marriage knowing her current mental state? Also yes, but I never claimed to be the good guy. And there will be no suggestion right now.
No matter what, once the truth is revealed, she’ll think of me as the enemy, anyway. Doing this will only solidify that image. As much as it pains me to encourage her to hate me, it’s better than her feeling nothing at all for me.
“Yes, Little Prey. It’s marriage or nothing. You need the protection of my last name. I know it seems insane, but it’s the only way. Attach yourself to the Arturo name, and no one will dare cross you.”
Her blue eyes glaze over and fill with a new kind of fear. “I… I won’t. I can’t marry you.”
I grit my teeth against the rejection and remind myself of the trauma she’s endured today. I want her to want me as badly as I want her, but I can’t force her desire.
I can, however, force her hand.
I tip her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes so she can see exactly how serious I am. "You can, and you will. As soon as we get back to the mansion, we will be married. It's final.”