Chapter 17 Hell Hath Fury #2
Instead, I stare at Elijah, who sits behind a small desk, writing erratically on a piece of paper.
Multiple pieces surround him, all a blur of penned-down words, as his hazel eyes furiously snap up at my intrusion.
His eyes soften the moment he sees that it is I who is disturbing whatever he is doing.
I take a small step away from the door, cautiously looking at him.
My body is tense, ready to react, even when the danger isn’t clear.
“Sunshine! I knew you couldn’t stay away from me. Glad you left the sponge at home,” he says with a big, toothy smirk.
He drops the pen, and its sound makes me jump.
Every slight sound feels louder, amplified by the tension building inside me.
Elijah gets up from behind his desk and walks toward me, his arms stretched as if he wants to hug me or, worse, hold me.
In response, I lift my hands defensively to keep him at a distance.
I don’t want his hands to touch me, to contaminate me with the curse.
I’m scared of the impact our skin touching can have, whether it will cloud my mind.
I have no aspiration to find that out. I take a step back; the wooden floorboards creak at the movement.
The door handle presses softly against my back.
A creeping sense of panic tightens my throat, sparking a visceral instinct to retreat, yet I force myself to have this conversation. I must.
“Don’t, please, don’t. I merely came here to speak to you. If you insist on touching me, I’ll leave immediately,” I threaten as my voice quivers.
Disappointed, Elijah lowers his arms but doesn’t say a word.
His gaze glides over my body hungrily, as if he’s ready to devour me after all this time apart.
Ignoring his lustful stare, I peer carefully at the papers on his desk, trying to read what he has written, but the words form no cohesive pattern, a vortex of letters.
I return my glance to Elijah, who still gawks at me like a cat stalking its prey’s every move.
I try to control my breathing, but it feels like the air around us is becoming thicker and thicker, making it harder to breathe.
A discomfort roots itself in me, standing in this tiny space with this person who is convinced I belong in his arms. I fumble slightly, anxiously playing with my sleeve, and am hesitant about how to approach the conversation I need to have with him.
“Please, could you take your seat? I find that more comfortable… some distance between us.”
The words come out shaky, revealing my nervousness. I clear my throat. He does as I ask, not breaking eye contact for a second, a cocky smile playing on his lips. It’s eerie the way he glares at me.
“Look, Elijah… I don’t know the correct way to say this, so please bear with me, okay?”
Elijah nods at me, his stare becoming more intense by the second as if trying to look into my skull and dissect my brain; it’s almost violating.
“Sure, Sunshine, anything to make you happy. That’s all I want anyway, your happiness. Together with me, where you belong, by my side,” he says, his voice lacking warmth.
The statement awakens part of the cursed bond, which I try my best to ignore.
Being alone with him in this tiny room, so close to each other, makes it hard to think and recall the words I’ve practiced in my head repeatedly.
I can strangely smell his scent—an intoxicating blend of wood and wet earth—and feel the magnetic pull between us, stronger now that Emrys is gone.
I didn’t notice Elijah’s scent before. Nauseating to my core, and simultaneously a smell I tell myself I can no longer live without.
The cursed bond is suppressing my soul bond with Emrys, actively fighting it, which is only possible because I was idiotic enough to arrange to be alone with Elijah. How could I be so stupid? The moment it was clear Faas would not be in the same room, I should have forsaken this dangerous endeavor.
An unsettling desire starts to nestle inside me to be held by Elijah instead.
I feel a tear sliver across my cheek as I try to defy the curse, a tear that holds a vortex of complex emotions.
Joy and sorrow. Affection and disdain. Trust and betrayal.
Euphoria and despair. Gratitude and resentment.
I need Emrys by my side; I’m not strong enough.
I’m always with you, Little Tempest. Don’t ever think you're alone. Remember that for eternity, you and I, my Lucem Mei. You are stronger than the curse; you WILL defy it, and I will be right next to you as you do it. Have faith in yourself, my love, as I do.
I blink at the whispering words that weave themselves into my brain, a sound that’s faint and far away, as if Emrys is miles away from me.
Yet it stirs me and grounds me steadily back into the present, reminding me of the task I set out to complete.
My heart flutters at the sound of Emrys’s soft voice, solidifying our bond.
Angrily, I wipe away the stray tear, the liquid above all representing my weakness.
Elijah peers at me, waiting for me to start speaking, his eyes tracking my every movement, unaware of the turmoil and doubt that takes place within me.
I want to hit him, burn his cheek red. I want to scream at him, but I don’t do either.
“The love you feel for me, Elijah… It’s not real; it’s a curse. All of this is fake. It’s…”
My voice cracks under the weight of my emotions.
Elijah cuts me off as he gets up from his chair and stalks over to me.
Within seconds, he is standing in front of me.
His scent fills the dense air, intoxicating and sickening all at once.
A knot twists tightly in my stomach as he stands so close by, too close.
My heart races, pounding like a drum, and I can't shake the feeling that something terrible is about to unfold.
It is as if dread wraps itself around me, tightening its grip with every passing moment, with each breath. It makes me anxious and on high alert.
“It sure does feel real, Sunshine. Stop saying these bullshit things. How could the love I feel for you be a curse? If anything, our meeting is a damn miracle, a blessing from the old Gods themselves. It’s that bloodsucker that infects your mind with this crap.
He’s the one poisoning your mind. I never believed Faas when he said you were with him out of your own free will; you’d be with me. Where you belong.”
He seizes my hand and laces his long fingers into mine; with his other hand, he clasps my hip and pulls me toward him, away from the door.
Instinctively, I press my free hand firmly on his chest, trying to keep some distance.
A faint tug in my mind enjoys his possessive behavior, but my heart denies it; the act is disrespectful, with no care for my boundaries.
Another hint that he acts on behalf of the curse is his lack of empathy.
A selfish form of self-preservation, one he has no idea of.
He is a mere puppet led by invisible strings, and part of my heart weeps for him, and for myself, at the unfairness of it all.
“Stop it, Elijah! Please. Listen to me. This isn’t you; it’s not real. What you’re feeling for me, try to resist it, help me tear this unnatural connection, reject me,” I implore fearfully, stuttering the words.
As I plead with Elijah, shots of pain surge through my head, and it costs me all my energy to defy the hurt and fight Elijah off me.
I pull my hand loose and feverishly give him a firm push; I need him to get away from me.
I need us to separate ourselves from each other.
He loses his balance, stumbles over, and falls on the wooden floor.
Angrily, he scrambles to his feet. Elijah looks at me, baring his teeth like a rabid dog.
My eyes dart to the door; if I’m fast, I might make it.
“You know what I think, Harlot? I think you’ve been with that leech of yours too long. You don’t even know what it’s like to be touched by a real man. A man of flesh and blood, a mortal man like me,” he seethes, his eyes bulging from rage.
The insinuation of his threat does not escape me, and I lunge for the door, but he’s faster, blocking my exit and locking the door.
Why aren’t Faas or Emrys coming? Don’t they hear the commotion?
Is the curse blocking the connection between Emrys and me?
Obscuring my distress? Haunting thoughts echo relentlessly, amplifying the terror in my chest. I try to reach Emrys, but Elijah disrupts me, taking firm hold of my hair, hurting me, and demanding that I look at him.
Those hazel eyes no longer recognizable, twisted with ire.
“Elijah, please, stop this; forcing yourself onto me will not make me love you,” I cry.
“I think you’re wrong, Sunshine; pretending you don’t want me makes you act like this. I’m sure once I made you mine, claimed you, all that pussy of yours would want is to sit on my dick instead of on that bloodsucker's cock.” He grins maliciously.
Raging, I slap him across the cheek, the skin burning red where I hit him. The imprint of my hand is now a mark on his flesh. Before I can hurl myself at Elijah again, he catches my wrist roughly, his fingers painfully digging into my skin. He pulls my hair taut, and tears spring in my eyes.
“Oh, I like it when you’re feisty, Sunshine; it will make conquering you all the more worthwhile.”
“Raping me will not win me, I will fucking hate you,” I spit at him.
“Trust me, once your cunt is wrapped around my cock, you will no longer call it rape; you will beg me to fuck you harder, like the slut you are, but you will be MY slut,” he barks.
He pushes me roughly on the floor, releasing my hair, and I spit in his face as I try to wrestle him off; a big, slimy glob of phlegm drips off his cheek.