Chapter 24 Ginny
TWENTY-FOUR
GINNY
My bed shifted beneath me as a weight dipped the mattress.
Forcing my eyes open, I inhaled that familiar peppery scent. It filled my senses until I sighed happily. That smell meant he had come back to me. I hoped he was less angry than the last time he came to me.
‘Elijah.’ His name was like a mumbled prayer.
Warmth surrounded me. Lips against my neck and fingers trailing up my spine.
Hungry kisses etched over my shoulder and across my throat.
Pleasure spiralled through me. Proof that he was real.
That he loved me despite his harsh words.
His hand slid over the curve of my belly in a hold that was firm and possessive.
Elijah cradled my bump like it belonged to him.
Because it did. He had forced this life inside me.
Told me to nurture it so he could finally be a daddy.
‘My Elijah,’ I breathed, luxuriating in his touch like a cat in heat.
‘You’re mine. My girl. My perfect one. You’re doing so well. We’re so close now. And this time I can be here to watch you.’ The words were buttery smooth, and filled with devotion.
Like he used to be. Before I made him so mad.
I melted into a pool of need. The tension and fear bled out of me. For a while he was gentle, the way he had been before bad Elijah came. Before Mama’s shouting. Before the first one. Before I got locked in Wellard.
Safe.
The world narrowed to just the two of us. The one bed. The way he ran his fingers under my nightdress and stole my breath.
But then…The kisses changed.
They grew harder. Hungrier. His teeth caught my skin and scraped until I cried. His lips bruised me.
‘Elijah, you’re hurting me.’
The hand beneath my sheets bit into my thigh until I gasped. His other hand clamped around my wrists, pinning them above my pillow. Any gentleness had fled.
The herby spiciness of his scent thickened as he leaned over me, pressing three fingers roughly inside me. Not just spice, but something sharper and more chemical. It made my eyes water.
A tremor shook me. Something didn’t feel right.
Elijah’s voice distorted. Too fast. Too harsh. His words slipped past me, quick as shiny minnows, impossible to catch long enough to figure out what was wrong with them.
‘Elijah?’ I questioned.
I turned my face to his, but I couldn’t see him. No features. No eyes. Nothing of my Elijah.
The weight on my chest grew heavier as he turned me fully onto my back and opened my legs. My ribs ached with each shallow breath as I fought his advance.
‘Stop,’ I gasped, pushing weakly at him. ‘Please. Not like this.’
He didn’t stop.
My nightdress tore, the sound echoing in the dark. Cold air wrapped my skin before his weight covered me again.
Smothered me.
His breath filled my face, hot and sour and nothing like the boy I knew.
And just for a moment realisation hit.
This wasn’t Elijah.
‘Elijah,’ I begged, hoping it might halt him from thrusting inside of me. If I said his name, it would make him turn back into himself.
It had to.
But his grip on my arms tightened as he crushed me into the mattress.
‘The baby,’ I panted as he filled me to bursting. ‘Watch the baby.’
‘Gonna fuck it right out of you so I can take it home this time.’ Not-Elijah grunted as each thrust made me want to vomit.
Each breath only pulled more of his scent into me. Pressure filled my chest until I felt like I was suffocating.
I forced out a scream, begging for Nancy.
Not-Elijah slapped me hard on the cheek, stopping my scream in its tracks.
Sharp pain bit into my thigh before spreading fire through my body. It burned hot and white, licking over my ribs and down my legs.
My fight bled away with its advance. My limbs slackened until they became useless. I tried to scream again, but my mouth sagged open, nothing but silence coming out.
The room spun and black cinders crept in at the edges of my vision.
And then—like nothing had happened—he gentled.
His tight grip loosened, his thrusts becoming longer and more leisurely. The hands that had bruised stroked my hair as he kissed me with heaving breaths. Every touch became reverent.
He gathered a tear on my cheek and wiped it away.
‘Shh, Ginny. It’s okay. It’s me.’
The sour scent eased back. Peppery spice taking its place.
‘You’re doing so well,’ Elijah murmured. ‘Growing my baby. My perfect girl. It’ll be different this time, sweetheart. You’ll see. We’re so close.’
I felt his every touch, even if I couldn’t move to evade them. Or enjoy them. I clung to his words, trying to believe them.
Because the alternative was too terrifying to bear.
‘Elijah,’ I choked.
My Elijah.
Even if sometimes…his touch was too rough. And his voice was too deep. And he smelled too bitter.