7. Elyse
CHAPTER 7
ELYSE
A scream rips me from my sleep like no alarm clock ever could. It takes me a minute to realize the awful, anguish filled sound is coming from me. I’m pulled deep into the cavern of emotions as I slowly recall the last twenty four hours in my mind.
The Hunt. Sebastian. Yanov.
A pair of soft hands come to rest against my shoulders, and I can’t tell if the touch is real or my imagination. It doesn’t matter. I shake them off, because the only thing that matters is getting away. From Yanov, Sebastian, my father. Everyone and everything.
I thrash against the person trying to keep me in place, but no amount of thrashing or fighting makes them let go.
After a moment I blink my eyes open, and it becomes clear this wasn’t a nightmare. No, this is reality. The hands on me remain soft, but clasp hard like steel to keep me in place.
"You're going to feel pretty foolish, young lady, once you wake fully," A gentle, soothing voice says.
I blink a few times, trying to place the voice, the soft tone.
"Who...what? Who are you?" I stop struggling for a second.
The man is tall, with shaggy, unkempt hair threaded with gray and glasses almost hanging off the end of his nose. "You've met me before, Elyse. Do you remember?"
There's something clinical, something purposeful about the way he asked the questions.
"Remember?" I think back and then immediately regret it as my head aches, and all I have are blank spaces intermixed with dreams and nightmares.
I fall against the pillow and breathe.
"A little nausea?" the man asks, but he's already adding something to a fluid bag hanging over my head. A bag hanging off the banister of a big, cushy bed.
It takes a second, but more filters in. This is Sebastian's bed. The place I walked away from, and now nothing will be the same again.
Why couldn't I have stayed in bed? None of this...
More comes back to me, Sebastian shooting his grandfather… Was that a dream?... No, a memory. Yanov and his hands on my skin, then his blood. I cover my mouth to stifle a sob. Yanov. I killed him. How? How could I have killed him? Me. I'm not Sebastian. I'm not a killer.
The man comes around and tugs on my hand, and I spot the IV sticking out the top of it. "Just keep this down please, so we can continue to give you the fluids you need."
His voice hits something inside me and I remember. The man who helped me after I was shot, the doctor who came to check on me multiple times while I was recovering.
"Dr. Brooks, right?"
He gives me a soft smile and then tucks it away again like a secret. "You've got it. I knew you were just a little disoriented. You did bump your head, which is something we need to keep an eye on with your other amnesia episodes."
I gulp. Shit. Is he going to ask? Should I tell him I remember more about that night? What will Sebastian do to me when he knows I know his secret? Instead of telling him, I stay quiet and stare down at my body. Nothing hurts, but everything feels...achy. I'm clean, though, which is altogether more disconcerting.
"Did…did you bathe me?"
He shakes his head, focusing his attention on the tablet in his hands. "Oh no, your...Sebastian, he's the one who bathed and dressed you. He’d much rather rip another man’s eyes out then let them see you naked. He’s a bit territorial.”
Speak of the devil.
I flinch as Sebastian enters the room almost silently, like a predator waiting to collect its next meal. He stops at the end of the bed, and I avert my gaze, trying to look anywhere but at him. Even so, there is no denying the pull he has on me. I’m not immune to his charm or good looks. He’s attractive, always has been. Even now, dressed in neatly-pressed black slacks, his sandy blonde hair still damp from a recent shower—all I see is the man who saved me, a man who stirs life back into me every time his lips touch mine.
Stupid. So stupid. The only flaw in his beautiful exterior is the red, rough patches marring his knuckles. I know I shouldn’t look at him, that it’s stupid, but I guess I’m a glutton for punishment, because it's exactly what I do.
The devil stands before me. How was I ever dumb enough to fall in love with him? He stalks to the opposite side of the bed to stand next to the doctor. He’s too close. I scoot back against the pillows, but there’s nowhere for me to escape. My movements are slow, my muscles achey and tense. Every twitch takes a million years.
The feeling is all too familiar and I turn my attention to the doctor. "Did you give me a sedative?"
He nods sharply, not even looking at me. "Of course; you need your rest."
I look away, and my gaze catches on Sebastian’s. Narrowing my eyes, I cast an icy glare at him. This makes the corner of his full sensual mouth twist up. "There's my little prey. How are you feeling?"
I want to tell him to take a hike off a cliff, but I can’t make the words come out. Instead I flinch away from his touch and try to keep as much distance between us as I can.
"Not in the mood to talk, that's okay." He perches himself on the edge of the bed and then grabs the blanket covering my lower body. With the flick of his wrists, he tugs it away. A blast of cool air caresses my bare thighs, knees, and feet.
Stupidly, I let my gaze wander, and it’s then I notice all the bruises, and cuts across every inch of my bare skin. Shit. An onslaught of memories slams into me.
Yanov and his fists, his anger . The night in the woods with Sebastian, that felt like, for once in my life, I was exactly where I was supposed to be. A vision of Tanya straddling Sebastian, whispering something in his ear.
Something about a baby.
My stomach rolls, and I turn my head to the side, sucking a few breaths in through my nose. I think I might throw up. The nausea slowly eases, and when I turn my attention back to the doctor I find Sebastian handing him a syringe.
I glance between them, waiting for someone to let me in on the secret. The secret involving me, apparently, and whatever is in that damn shot.
"What is that?"
Sebastian tilts my chin up gently, oh so gently, forcing me to face him. "Nothing for you to worry about, Ely. Just another precaution to ensure I keep you safe.”
His response makes no sense to me. What could possibly be in that shot that would make it so he can ensure my safety better? I look back at the doctor to see if he can give any insight, but he’s too busy glaring at Sebastian to notice.
“Don’t look at me like that. If you don’t want to do it, then move out of the way and I’ll do it myself.” Sebastian growls, and I shiver at the sound of his deep baritone voice.
Out of nowhere he grabs onto my hand. What the hell is he doing? I try to pull my hand from his grasp because he shouldn’t be touching me, but I’m stunned into silence when I catch sight of what has to be the world’s largest ruby on my finger.
“I’m the doctor; let me do my job.” Dr Brooks sneers, and then inserts the syringe into the port on my IV. I know I should be more concerned, trying to figure out what the hell he just injected me with but I’m still hung up on the ring perching on my wedding finger. The ruby is red, fiery red, catching every glint of low light in the room. It’s framed by smaller, but still pretty big, white diamonds.
With a gasp, I tug my hand free of his grasp and examine the ring a little closer. This can’t be what I think it is. Can it? Dread swamps me. I move to rip the ring off and toss it at him, but Sebastian clasps my wrist in one hand stopping me before I can do so.
His touch isn’t hurtful, but it's unyielding. "Don't even think about it. That ring is a form of protection. Keep it on at all times.”
"What? What do you mean? What is it?"
"A rare ruby. It belonged to my grandmother, and now it belongs to you."
"But why?" The words are out as the answer pops into my head. This is so much worse than I could’ve imagined. "No."
His lips tug up into a smile. “No? No, what?”
While I stare at him, my mind churning slowly, so very slowly, he inspects the bandage on my arm closest to him and raises a questioning eye to the doctor, who watches us closely.
"It's as you requested," Dr. Brooks snaps as if he’s annoyed with Sebastian’s prying eyes.
What the hell is going on?
“I’m happy to hear that.” Sebastian replies coolly.
“I can’t wear this. I won’t wear it.” I reach for the ring to pull it off again, but Sebastian’s hand closes over mine before I touch it.
“You will wear the ring, or I will have a tattoo put on your finger in place of that ring.” The words echo in my ears. A tattoo? He can’t be serious. But the tone of his voice, and the way he’s acting, leads me to believe he is serious, dead serious.
Panic claws at my insides and I look away from where he holds my hand, and back up into his eyes. He’s different. This is different. I don’t know him. Actually, no, I do. I just failed to see who he really was all along. “Please…. I’m begging you.”
His voice is clipped. “Don’t fuck with me, Elyse. You’ve only seen the tamed down version of me. I can be far more ruthless when given the motivation.”
“I won’t be your wife.”
He smiles, “You already are.”
My eyes grow heavier, and I blink to refocus my attention. There is no way I heard him correctly. I have to get out of here. Out of this bed. Away from him. I’m not safe. No one is safe around him. Everything about him is a lie, and he's dragged me into his fucked up fantasy world.
"This," I shake off his grip and lift my hand, showing him the ring, like he can’t see it. "This means we are engaged. It’s not permanent, it's an act until..."
"Until what?" he asks curiously, sliding closer on the bed, always careful not to jostle me.
A knot forms in my throat, making it difficult to swallow. I force a steady breath into my lungs, which has become more of a pant over the past minute, the staccato beeping on the monitor near the doctor accompanying every breath.
"Until what?" He asks again.
I can't bring myself to say it, maybe because it doesn’t matter. Yanov is dead. He’s dead, and it’s my fault. It feels wrong to be relieved instead of sad. And while I’m not sorry he’s dead—he deserved to die—I’m having trouble processing the fact that his death is on my hands. I killed him. I ended his life. Not Sebastian. Not anyone else. Me.
I try my hardest to blink back tears, because crying in front of him isn’t going to fix what’s already happened, but that’s impossible when the emotions are overtaking me. Sebastian leans forward, and his huge hand cups my cheek in such a tender way. It’s a mockery of the roughness of his words and voice. The lighting is just right, and I catch sight of a gold band adorning his ring finger.
Oh god. It’s real. It wasn’t just a dream.
We’re married.
"Does…why’re you wearing that?” I choke out. I don’t want to believe it. I can’t.
“Why do you think, Elyse?”
“I… I’m sorry, but I think I’m confused. We aren’t really married? It’s a joke right? You’re messing with me.”
Lord, please tell me we aren’t married.
His mouth twitches up at the sides, like he wants to smile again, but it isn't a smile he gives me. It’s the look of a predator, all teeth, with determination rippling through its veins moments before it strikes.
"There’s no room for lies in our marriage, and arguing about it won’t change what is already done."
“I…you’re a liar.”
He blinks at me, his expression never wavering.
“So it’s true; we’re married?”
“Like I said before, yes. The answer didn’t change because you asked me in a different way.”
All I can do is shake my head, hoping I’ll wake up from this nightmare. “No, no, no.” The air wheezes out of me, deflating my lungs. I’m trapped. It’s over. My only option is to find a way out of this mess, to save myself.
“How… Why would you do this? We aren’t even together.”
He rolls his eyes, “I didn’t expect you to be accepting of the marriage, but I did expect you to be… I don’t know, grateful ?”
I nearly choke on my tongue. “Are you kidding me? Grateful?” If I wasn’t so weak I’d punch him in his smug face.
"Yes. I saved your life, again, might I add, so I’d expect you to be at least grateful for that. You’re acting like I had a choice.” He shakes his head in frustration at me.
“Acting like you had a choice?” I mock, my nostrils flaring. “There is always a fucking choice, Sebastian.”
The muscle in his jaw tightens, and he reaches for me. My first instinct is to flinch away from his touch, but there's nowhere for me to go, and when all he does is rest his hands on my lower stomach I find it difficult to push his gentle caress away. It’s a strange gesture, and one I don’t quite understand, but I don’t object to his touch.
“You’re right. The choice was to either leave you to suffer at the hands of your father or provide you with safety.” He grits his teeth, “I suppose you’d rather I left you to your father?”
I don’t even think, my body instinctively responds for me, and I give my head a frantic shake.
“That’s what I thought.” He continues. “I wouldn’t hurt you, even if it’s what you wanted. The thought of something happening to you…it kills me. It’s my job to care for you, to protect you. I apologize that I failed to do so up until now. I guess some part of me wanted to give you time. I didn’t want to rush you into anything, but there’s no more time in our hourglass. I had to do what I had to do. I can only hope we overcome these obstacles. I want you to want me the same way I want you.”
I peer up at him through thick lashes. I’m angry, so angry. Angry, he took the choice from me. Angry, he forced me into this. Angry he is who he is and I am who I am.
“I will never want you like that again. The man I fell for was a figment of my imagination.”
The hand across my belly twitches, clamping down on my skin. It’s not painful, but firm. "Don't lie to me. You fell once, and you’ll do it again in time. Feelings don’t change that abruptly.”
Lifting my chin, I stare defiantly into his eyes, “They do, and mine certainly have. You can make me your wife. You can keep me in this mansion. You can force me to do, or be, anything you want, but what matters more than anything is whether or not my feelings are real.”
“They are real. I’ve seen them. Felt them. My favorite one being when your tight pussy strangled my cock until I filled you with my cum.”
I reach for his hands and wrap my fingers around his wrists, digging my nails into his skin. My intention is to push him away, to hurt him, but the plan backfires as soon as he leans into my face and smiles instead of pulling away and cursing my name.
“If drawing blood is your way of trying to hurt me, it isn’t working. All you’re doing is turning me on.”
“You’re disgusting, and I hate you. I hate you, and I will never love you again. Never .” I hiss angrily through my teeth. It sounds so dramatic that I hate myself a little for it.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Little Prey. I’ve waited far too long for you, and I refuse to hold back anymore. This whole time you’ve done your best to hide behind your books, to keep yourself busy with chores, to try and appear less appealing to me, when all along there was no fighting fate. No escaping the inevitable. I wanted you the night you were discarded in my foyer and left for dead. You can’t fucking hide from me. I won’t let you. I see you, just as much today as I did that first night, and I know you love me. In fact I don’t just know it. I fucking feel it.”
I swallow around a lump in my throat and look away, staring off toward the windows lit with soft light behind heavy curtains. He reads me like a damn book, and I’m a fool. A fool.
"What you feel and see is an illusion. I think the word you’re looking for is delusional, and borderline psychotic. That’s far more fitting.”
“Trying to hurt my feelings again?”
“No. I’m not stupid enough to think you have a heart inside that icy chest of yours. I want nothing to do with you. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever."
He slowly withdraws his hand, and I hate how much I miss his touch, his warmth. Fuck him.
"It wasn’t an illusion when your pussy clamped down on my cock and sucked my seed deep inside you. It wasn’t an illusion when you gave yourself to me, allowing me to claim you like no one else ever had.” His gaze pierces through me, sifting through all the vulnerable pieces I keep hidden. I let him in. I trusted him. How could I have been so naive? So stupid? “Maybe it isn’t just me who is delusional, maybe you are too?”
“I’m not. If I had to choose a husband it wouldn’t have been you.”
He lets out a humorless chuckle, “You sure do have a way with words.” The vein in his neck throbs, his irritation climbing. “Nothing you say, or do from this moment forward changes what is already done. Do whatever you must to come to terms with our marriage, tell yourself that you don’t want me. That in my arms isn’t where you feel safest. Tell yourself I forced you into this loveless marriage. Prove me wrong, Little Prey. Show me how much you hate me, let me taste it, dig your claws into my skin. Hurt me like I know you want to. It’s okay. I can handle it. Because I know it will be worth the pain and suffering when I get to watch you fall in love with me— all. over. again .”
I keep my face turned away from him because I refuse to let him see the effect his words have on me. I hate that he’s right, and I hate it that even a moment in his presence makes my body betray itself. I don’t know why he killed his grandfather, but the reason doesn’t matter. He did it.
Whatever medication Dr. Brooks administered finally hits me, making my thoughts fuzzy and my body lighter. I can barely keep my eyes open, and because it feels so right I sink back against the pillow. The suffocating panic from earlier recedes, but I’m still reminded of what I’ve done, what he’s done.
He's not the man I thought he was.
There was never a second I was under the impression he was the good guy, a knight in shining armor, but I never considered that he might be a murderer.
The word rings in my mind, echoing in and out.
Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.
That’s what I am now, too. A killer. Murderer. I fight against the tears burning my eyes, but there’s no holding them back. I’m so broken now. Will there be enough pieces of me left to put back together? Will I still be the same girl, or a shell of the person I used to be?
A ragged sob rips from my chest, carrying the grief and pain of what I’ve done with it. How will I live with myself? Yes, Yanov deserved death, but not at my hands. Never my hands. I’m not a killer. That’s not who I am. I save animals from danger and defend the vulnerable.
And yet, you killed him.
Fresh tears slip down my cheeks, leaving cold trails in their wake. Through the mess of tears, I can only briefly make out Sebastian climbing up onto the bed while Dr. Brooks slips out of the room.
"Fuck. I can’t handle it when you cry. It makes me want to punch something.” Sebastian growls, literally growls. There’s something vulnerable in his voice, making me want to reach for him. “What is it, Little Prey? Talk to me. Please fucking talk to me, or I might go insane. If you’re mad at me, so be it. I don’t give a shit, just tell me how I can help you. How can I make you feel better, because when you cry I feel helpless, and I don’t like it.”
I shake my head, inadvertently wiping the tears off my cheeks onto the lush pillow. "It's just...I'm a murderer now. A killer. I killed him. I killed him, and I can’t…there’s so much blood. My father…when he finds out—” Another sob escapes me, and I spiral in my thoughts. I’m so tired. So exhausted. I want to sleep for a million years.
Without hesitation, Sebastian grabs me by the shoulders and rolls me to face him. I’m trapped in the memory, sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss. I’ll forever wear the mark of a killer on my conscience.
"Stop," he snaps. "Stop, please… I can’t fucking handle seeing you like this.” His voice softens a bit. “You’re a survivor, Elyse. You didn’t kill him because you wanted to. You did it because you had to. There is a difference. You’re not a monster. And you never have to worry about your father again. You’re safe now. Nothing, no one, can touch you.”
I stare back at him through the tears. Deep down I know I’ll never be safe. Protection comes at a cost, and while Sebastian might protect me from all the monsters living in our world, no one can save me from him. My treacherous heart will suffer the consequences.
"And what about when you can't keep me safe? What happens when your secrets are brought to light? If anyone finds out you killed your grandfather, then my safety disappears. Without you, I’m left to my father’s mercy.” The what-if’s continue to mount against me. Sebastian can protect me, yes, but if anyone finds out what he did…
I want to hurt him, make him hate me so maybe he’ll let me go. But even though my intention is to push him away, I'm not prepared for the icy rage trickling into his eyes. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into my flesh, hard enough to leave bruises. Maybe I just want him to hurt me, so I can prove to myself he really is the monster in all of this. I lick my lips. “Do it. I know you want to. Hurt me. End my life just like you ended his.”
Anger vibrates through his body, but he doesn’t lose his composure. No, Sebastian is a professional at keeping his mask of boredom in place.
“Why would I kill you, wife?” He cocks his head to the side, and an eerie calm blankets me. “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of marrying you? I made a vow, till death do us part, and I intend to keep it.”
“Then kill me now. I know what you did, and I could tell anyone at any time.”
A villainous grin appears on his lips, “But you won’t. You won’t tell anyone and not only because you’re afraid, but because you need me. Not for safety, or whatever the fuck you’ve built in your head but because you want me. You need my body, my cock, my mouth on you. Go ahead, lie to me again and say you don’t. ”
Anger churns in my gut. It’s the truth even if I don’t want to admit it, but I don’t need to say a single word for Sebastian to know he’s right.
“I hate you.” I curl my lip and spit the words at him.
"I’m sure.” He rolls his eyes. “Hate me all you want, wife , but it doesn’t change the truth. You need me, and you're mine.”
“I’m not yours. Don’t act like you give a shit about me.” I goad him, because I want his anger. I need it. Any other emotion and I might break down and give into that terrible need, the need to let him wrap me up in his arms and tell me everything is going to be okay.
I don’t get the reaction I intended. Ignoring me all together, he gives me his back, slips off the bed, and turns to walk to the door. Anger, sadness, and fear swirl deep in my gut. I love him, but why? He’s a monster. He’s like everyone else in my life. Everything I’ve tried to separate myself from.
But not all monsters are villains. Some are victims of circumstance.
Part of me wants to tell him I’m sorry. That it’s all a lie. But I can’t make the words come out. Through blurry tears, I watch him disappear out the door, and the relief I thought I might feel at his absence never comes. Strange enough my chest feels heavier. Like someone is standing on it.
It’s like without him in the room there is no oxygen for me to breathe.
It takes me a long time before I can close my eyes, as I find myself waiting for him to return, but soon enough I realize he’s not coming back, and I allow myself to sink into the darkness…praying the next memory to resurface will be the one that brings me back to him.