11. Elyse
CHAPTER 11
ELYSE
T he hours drag by, and every minute brings me closer to madness. I hate him and want him at the same time, and it’s as frustrating as it is annoying. I tug at my bonds once more like I’ve been doing most of the night. My wrists are red and ache from the repetitive movements.
Asshole. Of course, he wouldn't leave me a chance to escape. Not after the way I treated him, and part of me can't blame him. If he walked in right now and I were free I'd smack him for leaving me like this, but on the same hand, I know I’ve been a stubborn bitch. I've been on edge since we returned to the house and an asshole to everyone in it.
They all look at me with pity, and it’s a constant reminder of all that I’m trying to forget.
And while I hate to admit it, Sebastian is right. I want him, and I want what we had before everything went to shit, but it feels like there’s too much between us. Too much darkness and too many secrets.
Every time I close my eyes I see the blood on my hands and the way Sebastian looked at me when he caught me in his arms outside that disgusting motel. It wasn't fear exactly, but pride.
I don’t want him to be proud of me for killing a man, though. I don’t want fear. I don’t want pity. I don’t want pride…hell, I don’t know what I want. What I need.
My annoyance at being tied up returns, and I tug at the bonds again as if they’ll magically disappear.
When they don’t, I release another sigh. That bastard better come back to let me go to the bathroom soon, or he's going to have a much bigger issue on his hands.
Sebastian is equal parts unhinged and frustrated, but I guess that’s partially my fault. We seem to be matching energies right now, and I know no good will come from that. Still, the man makes me want to punch him in the jaw and kiss him at the same time.
What an infuriating asshole.
The bedroom door opens without warning, and I fix a glare on the person entering.
Lee pokes his head inside and gives me a big grin when he catches sight of me. "Oh, well, this is interesting."
I roll my eyes, and shift so I can make sure the covers are over my lap and the shorts, which are rucked up from my struggles, aren’t showing off my ass.
"What do you want?"
He walks into the room like he lives here, showing off a pair of low slung jeans, a bare chest, and bare feet. I try not to notice his perfectly sculpted muscles on display. Why isn’t he wearing a shirt?
He raises a bottle of water and shakes it toward me. "I’ve been given the task of ensuring you don’t dehydrate, though I think you would have to be doing something other than lying in a bed for that to happen.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he slowly walks over to the small bar in the corner of the room. “What do I know though?” He smirks over his shoulder then selects a bottle of liquor and replaces it with the water bottle.
Turning to face me, he shakes the liquor. "This seems like a better choice at the moment, don't you think?"
I give him a befuddled expression, but he doesn't seem fazed. "Is drinking all you do?"
“No. I offer many services, which I will happily tell you about. My biggest seller is fucking, followed by endless orgasms, then fucking shit up, and we’re always sold out of this one, but being a total disgrace to my family.” He climbs up onto the bed, rolls onto his back and lays his head across my lap on top of the mound of blankets and sheets. “Shall I go on, or do you get the idea?”
Up close, I can see his brown curls are disheveled, and a fine sheen of sweat clings to his brow. The guy is a hot mess, and somehow that makes him look even prettier.
“I’ll take that as a no…” He tips the bottle up and takes a long gulp. Then he holds it up to my mouth, giving me a way bigger swallow than I would have taken and damn near choking me in the process.
It burns its way down my throat, blazing a fire into my belly. "What's the occasion?" I ask.
He rolls to face me. "What’s with the bondage? Did I miss something kinky? Because if I did I’m going to be pissed. Seb always does the fun stuff without me.” The frown on his face is so fake it makes me smile as he continues. “I thought you were just confined; what did you do to get tied up?"
"You know, the usual...too much attitude, fighting…he's mad at me for anything and everything."
His brow wrinkles deeply like he’s lost in thought, and then he offers me another shot, and I open my mouth, letting him pour the liquor inside. "He's been off since you were taken. He kinda, sorta, lost his shit, and I don’t think he’s returned to his normal self, probably because you haven’t returned to your normal self, either.”
I blink at him, considering his rather insightful comment. I don’t think anyone gives Lee the credit he deserves. The guy might look like he’s lost his damn mind, but maybe he’s the only one of us embracing his crazy.
"Okay, Mister-Know-It-All. How do I come back from what happened? The girl I was before I left this house…if I’m being honest, I think I left a part of her back there in that cheap motel.”
Lee's jaw tenses, and he shakes his head. "That's bullshit. Don’t give that fucker any more of you than he’s already taken. You don’t owe him anything, and you shouldn’t feel bad about what happened, either. Everyone has a choice to make, and sometimes it’s to merely survive a shitty situation or let it kill you. You did what you had to do. Nothing more, nothing less."
My chest tightens, and for the first time in days I feel seen and heard. I look away before I start to cry and swallow around the lump of words clogging my throat. My lips burn with the need to ask the question I’ve needed an answer for since they pulled me from that place.
"Is Yanov dead? Did I really kill him?"
Lee tilts my face back towards him, studies me for a moment, and then crawls up the length of my body. He doesn’t touch me otherwise, and when he’s abreast of me, he sinks back down onto the mattress next to where my arm is stretched out tight. "He’s dead, and right now, it might seem like all hope is lost and you don't know who you are, but trust me…what you do in response to a trauma is not who you are or what you are. It's your survival instinct given life. You got yourself out of there, and now, you need to figure out how to push that instinct back deep inside you."
The truth of his words slam into me, and I stare at him. How can someone who acts so hopeless still have so much hope? He brings the bottle of liquor to his lips and takes another gulp, and when he offers me another drink, I take it.
Our gazes connect, and this time he fills my mouth to the brim with alcohol. I struggle to swallow all of it and end up coughing some up, sending a small trail of it down my chin.
Something soft cuts across his face, and he swipes at the liquid on my chin, cleaning me up before sucking the liquor from his fingers.
"You did what you had to do."
"What did you have to do?" I whisper.
He stares back at me, and when I think he might open up and tell me something real, he pastes on that typical playboy grin. "Anything. Everything."
It's a deflection, of course, but I don't know him well enough to press the issue. My only hope is that he’s not going through whatever it is all alone.
We lie on the bed in silence, drinking from the bottle every few minutes. What would Sebastian do if he saw us? It’s a strangely intimate moment, but companionable rather than romantic.
“So why do you hate him this time?" Lee asks, but in the quietness of the room the words echo.
I shake my head. "I don't hate him. And to be perfectly clear, I’ve never really hated him. He just has a terrible way of pissing me off, but I…I don’t think I could ever hate him.”
"He thinks you hate him for what happened, and he’s ashamed of himself because he couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
I sigh loudly and tip my chin to the bottle to let him know I want another drink. We've emptied it almost a third of the way, and the alcohol warms me from the inside out.
"I’m ashamed of myself, too. For what I've done and what I've turned him into." Lee’s brow wrinkles in question, and I continue. “A raging psycho.”
He shifts to look at me and then nods. "Yeah I get it, but his choices aren't because of you. Sebastian was a raging psycho before you ever came along, no offense.” He smirks, “He cares about you, though. Hell, having known the man since childhood, I'd say he loves you."
Love? He thinks Sebastian loves me? Is that even possible?
My heart clenches deep inside my chest, making it hard to do anything, even breathe. We had only begun our relationship when Yanov’s move lit a match to the sweetness between us. Is love between us even possible after everything we’ve gone through? It's on the edge of my tongue to ask Lee but the bedroom door flies open, and this time it’s Sebastian gracing me with his presence. The question dies, replaced with the usual overwhelming awe I feel when Sebastian enters a room.
He steps inside, pauses in the doorway, and stares at us, his gaze narrowing on Lee.
"Get the fuck out of my bed, Lee."
“And that means it’s time for me to go. It was nice talking to you, Sunshine.” Lee raises his arms in surrender, his fingers curled around the bottle. “Maybe we can talk about something less depressing next time.” He winks at me and then rolls neatly off the bed. Once on his feet, he blows me a kiss and rushes around Seb and out the door.
"Did he touch you?" Seb demands as he stands at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt.
“What would you do if he did?” I tease, needing to know how far he’ll go. Would he actually hurt one of his friends for me?
“Depends on what he did, but tread very carefully Ely, because while Lee is one of my best friends, and I consider him to be the closest thing I have to a brother, if he hurt you or touched you in any way that pisses me off then he’s as good as dead.”
Does he have to be such a caveman? I roll my eyes at him and release a heavy sigh, the alcohol helping to loosen me up a bit. “You don’t have to be so territorial. We were only talking.”
“I know.” If he knows then why did he have such a murderous glint in his eyes?
“Where were you?” I growl, impatiently. “I’ve been tied to this bed for hours. Did you forget about me?”
“Of course not. Did you miss me?”
“You wish.” I hiss through my teeth. “More like I miss having blood flow to my arms. Untie me, please.” I add the please to soften the blow of what’s to come, because the moment he unties me all hell is going to break loose. I don’t care if he loves me or not.
“Maybe you’ll think about acting like an adult instead of a child next time.” He reaches up and unties my wrists.
The second I'm free I scramble forward and slap him hard across the face. The sting radiates across my palm, and it hurts like hell but it’s worth it. "Don’t ever tie me up and leave me here again!"
His green eyes blaze with fire as he glares down at me. "Then don’t do shit that makes me have to tie you up. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to do things my way.”
My control slowly slips away. "Your way?' I screech, barely recognizing my voice.
Who does he think he is? I’m tired of being pushed around. Tired of men controlling me. I’m a human being—not a trophy or piece of furniture.
Angrily, I shove at his chest until he stumbles back a step.
“What the fuck, Ely?” He stares at me, shock clear on his face.
I smile. The strength I’m able to put into that shove surprises me, but it isn’t enough. I’m not done with him yet. Crawling off the bed, I follow his retreating form, shoving him again and again, until he trips over his own feet. At the last minute he reaches for me, and takes me down with him. We fall into a heap on the floor, his strong arms wrapping around me as he takes the brunt of the fall.
Somehow I know he’ll always take the brunt, and that awareness makes my anger spiral higher. I’m so angry. Angry at him, at myself. At the entire situation.
I’ve never hit another person in my life, but I slam my balled up fists into his chest. He doesn’t react except to squeeze me tighter, and I do it again. Over and over again. He does nothing and says nothing, and that only frustrates me more. I want his anger. I want his pain. I need his reaction so I can let it fuel me, but he refuses to give it to me.
Not like I want, anyway. I don’t know how much time passes, but it isn’t until my arms grow weak with exhaustion and the fight partially leaves me that he finally says something.
"Are you fucking done now?" His tone is granite, his jaw just as hard.
Am I done? Are you serious?
I stare down at him through a mop of coffee-colored hair, and then I slap him one more time for safe measure. "Am I done? You tell me to stop behaving like a child, but any time I don’t do what you want you throw a fit and lock me in a room or tie me to a bed.” I grit my teeth, feeling the heat of my actions on my cheeks. Sebastian looks distraught, a complete and utter mess, and shame coats my insides for how I’ve treated him. “I’m sorry for my behavior but you don't get to make decisions for me all the time. That's not what this is...we aren't even...together," I tell him, looking away.
"We aren't what?" he hisses, leaning forward and getting into my face.
I’m only briefly aware of our position, me straddling him, him gripping onto my hips. Even with the anger so evident in his eyes, I see how much he’s hiding from me. How much feeling he’s refusing to share with me. I can also feel his longing, the length of his hard cock that presses against my belly.
Shit. Damn it.
How did we get here?
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I try to move off of him, but his hold becomes impenetrable.
"Oh no, you don’t. I let you say your piece, and now you’re going to let me say mine.”
Oh no. Now that I feel him beneath me, really feel him, it's all I can think about, the anger from earlier twisting into something hotter, something sharper. I might be angry, but there’s no denying how much I want him. How much I need him.
Like a crazed man, he grabs me by the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him. Our faces are only a couple inches apart, and his hot breath fans against my lips. I want to kiss him, but I also want to punch him in that beautiful mouth.
"We are very much together. And I don’t care if you believe it or not, it’s fucking real in my eyes.”
I don't respond; I can’t. There is no response to that, not when all I can think about is his lips against mine, his cock sliding deep inside me. Huffing out a breath, I try to remind myself how bad he is for me, how wrong it is that we’re together, that he’s a killer and a liar, but none of those things seem to matter, and I’m tired of fighting. Tired of fighting against this man that I love.
Without warning, I lean forward and press my lips to his. This kiss shatters the safe little box I’ve put myself in. His lips on mine feel like how I imagine the first rays of sunlight feel as they fall onto the seed of a flower that's waited all winter long to grow. I want to grow, and I want him to be the thing that breathes life back into me.
He doesn't hesitate, meeting my kiss with an equally searing one. We’re teeth and lips, and it’s so intense tears behind my eyelids, but then his tongue slips into my mouth, and he strokes it against mine, and all I can do is moan into his mouth.
Pleasure consumes me, and while I kiss him and he kisses me back, I find myself grinding my heated core against his length, wishing it was inside me.
No need to wish, Elyse. He’s right here. Take what you need.
It's such a selfish thing to want, but I need this moment. To think about something other than death and how much I hate myself.
Breaking the kiss, I scramble backward on his lap, giving myself enough room to undo his belt. I reach for the button on his pants, and that’s when he grabs me by the wrists, his hard grip dragging my attention back to his face. His eyes are smoldering, revealing his own desire to fuck me, but beneath that lust is something softer, something that I can’t pinpoint.
"What did I say, Ely?"
The reminder of his words come back to me and I grit my teeth in frustration. He wants me to beg him. And I want him so badly that I’m almost okay with that.
I swallow, then look him in the eye and give him honesty. “Please…Sebastian. I need this. I need you inside of me right now. Fighting off the darkness, reminding me that I’m still alive, and that I’m more than what happened.” I look away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. I hate how vulnerable and raw that confession makes me feel.
“No, you don’t get to look away from me, not after that. Tell me what you need, Little Prey. Tell me how to heal the ache in your chest.” He gently guides my face back to his, and I force myself to look up at him again, even though I’m ashamed.
“What do you need?” He whispers the question, his thumb stroking my bottom lip.
“ You . I need you.”
“I’m right here. Right fucking here, for the taking. Use me however you need to, but don’t…” The hurt in his voice reaches inside of me. “Don’t blame me when it's over. Okay?”
All I can do is nod, the raw emotion clogging my throat making it impossible to speak.
Shifting in his lap once more, I pull my shorts to the side, not even bothering to take them off. There's an unsaid urgency in our movements as he helps to undo his pants and slide them down enough so that I can straddle him. He’s not wearing any underwear so his cock springs free, and I nearly sigh with contentment as I wrap my fingers around it.
“Fuck, you have no idea how good that feels.” The words rumble out of his chest. “To have your hands on my cock.”
Lifting myself, I guide the wide tip of his cock to my opening. I’m already slick with arousal from our fighting and my need for him. He grabs me by the hips, supporting me, and I lean into him while I slowly lower myself down onto his length.
Oh god. My lips part, and a whimper of both pain and pure bliss escapes me.
The first inch stings as he stretches me, but I welcome the pain. It eases as I take more of him into my body. My muscles relax, and the tight bubble of tension in my abdomen is pushed out.
Relief. It lightens the pressure on my shoulders, and I’m free. Free as a bird. Looking away from where our bodies connect, I lock eyes with him, watching the clench of his jaw while he studies me through hooded eyes.
“Fuck me, Little Prey.” He hisses through clenched teeth, his hands no longer holding me in place but instead fisting the fabric of my shorts.
“What do you think I’m doing?” I reply cheekily as I lift and sink all the way down on him.
“Killing me.” He chuckles.
Damnit. I love that sound.
Bracing both hands on his chest, I rock forward, and holy shit, it’s like being hit with a lightning bolt of pleasure that zips up my spine and short circuits my brain. I’m consumed by this man, physically and mentally, and nothing could make me believe otherwise, not in this moment when it’s just the two of us clinging to one another. It's perfect, and I hate him a little bit for being the only thing that can get me out of my head and to this point right now.
I repeat the action and sink forward then back, rocking on him in a way that makes it possible for my clit to press to the top of his cock with each stroke.
"Come on, Little Prey. Use me. Fuck my cock. Take it from me," he encourages.
I close my eyes so I'm not looking at him and pick up my pace. I know it won't take long to come like this, at this angle, with the way his warm body feels underneath and inside me. He is my home, and I know this no matter how much I try to fight it.
Focusing on nothing but pleasure, I chase that high. I rock back and forth, fucking myself on his cock, taking what I need from him.
“Ohhhh…” I cry out. The pleasure builds, carrying me higher with every stroke.
“Yes! Fuck, yes. Come on my cock, Elyse. Shatter for me so I can piece you back together again.”
My movements become jerky, but I continue rocking back and forth, letting his sharp intake of breath, filthy mouth, clean scent, and warm embrace take me to where I need to be. It's on the last downward stroke I explode.
Every nerve ending in my body comes alive, and I clench all around him, the muscles fluttering as my release rips through me.
"Perfect, you’re so perfect, and now it’s my turn." he growls, the sound almost animalistic.
I’m still clinging to the aftershocks of my own pleasure when he grits his teeth and grabs me by the hips, forcing me down onto his cock.
After that, it all becomes a blur, and I crumple into pieces while he uses me like a fuck doll, physically lifting me and pulling me down onto his length in quick strokes that leave me dizzy.
“Sebastian.” I whimper when it feels like it’s becoming too much, and his touch turns bruising.
“I know…baby… I’m almost there. So close…” He snarls, and I press my forehead to his, staring deep into his eyes. Pain and sadness swirl together, and shame blankets me, because I did that to him.
I hurt him.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper against his lips as I drown in his touch, taste, and feel.
Knowing he needs that little bit of pain to send him over the edge, I dig my nails into his arms and drag them down over his flesh, leaving deep scratches on his skin.
“Elyse.” He groans my name a moment before he shatters.
I feel the warmth of his seed coating my insides, filling me, and I can’t say I’m bothered by it. It’s almost comforting. Exhausted, I collapse against his chest and he wraps both of his arms around me, cradling me closely.
I’m safe, protected, secure.
The thud of his quickening heartbeat fills my ear as both of us return to normal breathing.
"I don’t want to control you, Elyse. You’re my equal. I just need you to listen to me. I want to protect you. It's my damn job, and I’ve failed in so many ways. I can’t focus on everything trying to tear us apart if I’m scared for you. Scared you’ll try to bait me into hurting you, and if that doesn’t work, doing it yourself. I’m your man, you’re my woman, and my entire existence is devoted to keeping you safe now..”
I tilt my head to look up at his jaw. "Protect me from who? Yanov is dead. He can’t get me now, and you already said there is nothing my father can do, right?”
He slowly runs a hand down my hair, his touch soothing. “There are bigger fish out there than your father, and there are always enemies lurking in the dark waiting for the perfect moment to attack. I can’t bear the thought of anything else happening to you. Let me keep you safe. Let me do what I should’ve done to begin with.”
“Okay,” I reply softly, focusing on the awareness that for the first time in days there’s nothing but blessed silence in my head.
Everything is going to be okay.