Chapter 23 Challenging Control #2
I groaned under my breath and turned away from him, storming into the bedroom, and, of course, he followed. However, when he stepped through the doorway, he stopped.
As in, stopped dead.
A soft, involuntary sound escaped him and, once again, I rolled my eyes without turning around.
“Yes, yes, I know. Lilies. Frogs. Botanical nightmare. I get it, it’s all very shocking,” I commented dryly, knowing full well this was one of the reasons I’d tried to keep him out. Also, the room was still a battlefield of my hasty packing from just before he arrived.
But when he didn’t respond and the silence stretched, that was what finally made me turn around. He was standing just inside the doorway, gaze sweeping the room slowly, not in judgment but in something closer to stunned astonishment.
In fact, for a moment, he looked almost… speechless.
“Well?” I demanded when he said nothing.
He inhaled once, then finally asked,
“Do I want to know?”
“More like, do I wish to tell?” I muttered, yanking open my wardrobe and dragging more clothes out with unnecessary force.
“And the answer to that is no, I do not.”
I stuffed them into the suitcase, shoving fabric down with my forearm to make space, and his attention quickly shifted to the suitcase on the bed.
“Were you planning to go somewhere?” he asked after a beat.
“Or were you intending to simply run until exhaustion overtook you?”
I didn’t respond to that, as we both knew the answer, so why would I bother?
“You must know by now, there is nowhere you can go that I will not find you,” he continued with, what I supposed, in his mind, was a gentle threat. But there was nothing gentle about it, not when Bo had already warned me of this. Which was why my shoulders dropped despite myself.
The fight in me wavered as I started to realize the depth of my situation. So, I turned slowly to face him and asked on a sigh,
“When does this end?”
Unfortunately, he didn’t hesitate to answer.
“When I have the answers I require, and when I am satisfied that you are not in danger,” he said, and a laugh escaped me, one that sounded hollow and bitter.
“In danger? I’m currently being cornered in my own bedroom by the man who has just admitted I’m his prisoner,” I was quick to point out.
“I think you will find that my version of imprisonment differs significantly from your horror story interpretation,” he replied calmly, and it was starting to grate on me how damn composed he was.
“Oh, wonderful,” I shot back.
“So, it’s a luxury cell, is it? A pretty, gold cage for me to chirp in.”
He gave a slight, almost careless lift of one shoulder, and damn him, but I hated how well he filled out a suit.
“A cage is defined by perspective,” he replied, like this was enough of a distinction.
“A cage is defined by lack of choice,” I countered immediately, and his eyes sharpened slightly at that.
“I know you don’t yet understand this, but this is for your own good,” he said more quietly now, and I scoffed, shaking my head.
“I may not understand your world, but I recognize when I’m being handed a lie wrapped in silk.”
Something flickered across his face at that. Not anger but something that sounded dangerously close to frustration, and I couldn’t help noticing it was the first time his control had faltered.
“You don’t trust me,” he said, stating it plainly, and I came close to saying, ‘yeah, no shit,’ but instead went with reminding him of the fundamentals.
“Trust is earned.”
“And yet, mine in you is currently… strained,” he replied evenly, though that final word carried more weight than the rest.
I stared at him, trying to stop my mouth from hanging open, but my silence didn’t last long. Not after he decided to remind me of my position here.
“Contract or no contract, my word stands. This is happening.”
I exhaled sharply and snapped,
“Yes, well, as you can clearly see, there are no spell books lying around for me to vanish through, so if you don’t mind…” I gestured sharply toward the doorway, arm extended in unmistakable dismissal, yet he didn’t move.
No, instead, he just leaned back against the frame, crossing his arms over his chest with infuriating composure.
“I will remain, if it’s all the same to you,” he said simply, and I huffed in frustration before turning away, resuming my packing with exaggerated efficiency.
Drawers opened and closed. Hangers scraped.
Fabric rustled violently as I shoved it into the case.
And he just watched, silently taking it all in as if my feelings on the matter meant nothing to him.
Honestly, the silence was almost worse than the argument.
Because no matter how much I tried to ignore him, I could feel it.
The inevitability.
And the unsettling certainty that running, once again, had only bought me minutes, not the days I had hoped for. Not the time needed until Bo could return.
I let out another frustrated breath and pressed down hard on the suitcase until the zipper finally cooperated, dragging it closed with more force than necessary. The sound of it sealing felt heavier than it should have, as though I had just shut something away that wouldn’t reopen so easily.
I refused to look at him as I dragged the heavy weight off the bed, letting it bang on the floor. But then, before I could take the handle, the vibration of my phone cut sharply through the silence.
For a split second, my pulse leapt with a different kind of dread, but when I pulled it from my bag and saw my sister’s name flashing across the screen. That quiet dread quickly shifted into guilt. Six missed calls.
Six… fuck!
Of course, she would panic.
I didn’t know what to do, as I didn’t want to get Sabrina involved in any of this, and if I answered, he would then know that I had a sister. Someone who could potentially be used as leverage to get to me, once Bo followed through with his plan.
I swallowed hard when he finally decided for me.
“Answer the phone, Eliza,” he ordered gently.
“Hey,” I said after accepting the call, hating how my voice came out strained.
“Oh, thank the Goddess!” she breathed instantly, the relief in her voice so genuine it twisted something inside me.
“I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning. Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry,” I replied, forcing lightness into my tone as I turned slightly away from the bedroom doorway. It was a pointless gesture, really, but it felt instinctive, as though I could somehow shield her voice from the man standing behind me.
“Work has been insane. What’s up?” I asked, trying to force myself to relax enough to sound normal and like I usually would when speaking to my sister.
“What’s up?!” she repeated incredulously.
“You said you’d tell me everything. I have been waiting to hear how it went. What happened? You can’t just drop a bomb about that club and then disappear on me.”
A sound escaped me that hovered somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. It didn’t sound convincing, even to my own ears. But then I flinched as, behind me, I felt him move.
I risked a glance over my shoulder and immediately regretted it. He had stepped further into the room, his gaze slowly travelling over the scattered evidence of my hurried packing and then upward to the collection I had long ago stopped noticing as unusual.
Frogs.
Ceramic, glass, carved wood. A frog-shaped lamp perched on my dresser. Tiny lily-pad coasters stacked beside my jewelry box.
He didn’t comment, which somehow only made it worse.
“So? Come on, spill the herbal tea,” my sister pressed, and I had to suppress a groan.
“The presentation went well,” I said, keeping my voice steady, and there was a sharp intake of breath on the other end.
“Presentation? Wait, what do you mean presentation? I thought they took you off that account. I thought you were done with it. Lily-pad, what is going on?” I closed my eyes briefly and mentally shouted shit in my head!
“It’s a long story. They put me back on it at the last minute. I had to present yesterday. That’s why I’ve been swamped,” I told her, stealing a glance at the cause of why, who was clearly listening even as he continued to take in the minute details of my private space.
“Oh my Goddess, that’s amazing!” she burst out.
“That’s huge. See? I told you they’d realize they were idiots without you. That’s so good.”
“Erh yeah, it’s great,” I forced out, although it was anything but.
“Seriously, that’s it? Erh it’s great…? Jeez, could you sound any happier?” she asked sarcastically, and my throat tightened.
I forced a soft laugh, the sound hollow and brittle in my own ears.
“No, I am. It’s great. Just… I’m exhausted,” I said, rubbing a hand at the back of my tense neck, and, for once, it wasn’t a lie.
“You’ve been weird ever since you went to that club,” she said, suspicion creeping gently into her tone.
“Did you find something there?”
I turned my head slightly and met Oblivion’s gaze across the room after his head snapped up at the mention of his club. This told me that his immortal skills obviously extended to having excellent hearing… damn him!
“Nothing exciting… it was really disappointing actually, no one of significance or anyone that could help me,” I replied lightly, letting irony wrap around the words as I held his stare for just a fraction too long. One of his brows lifted in challenge, calling me out on my bullshit once more.
“Oh, well, that’s lame… please say he was at least hot?” she asked, and heat flooded my face instantly. I turned away again, staring at the wall as though it held the secrets of the universe.
Behind me, I heard the faintest shift of movement, and when I glanced back, the corner of his mouth had curved in quiet amusement.
Entirely aware that he was the subject of a conversation, he could not hear in full but clearly understood in implication.
So, I decided to challenge him in return.
Starting with making a show of looking him up and down, taking in every available inch of his towering, muscular frame before answering my sister.
“Not particularly.”
He smirked, and the slow rise of his brow carried the distinctive arrogant air of a man who had just accepted a challenge.
“Look,” I said quickly, before this spiraled any further.
“I’m really sorry, but I have to go. There’s a lot happening right now, but I will call you for a catch-up soon.”
“When?” she asked, not letting this go.
“I don’t know, maybe in like a week or…”
“Why don’t you come to the shop tonight?
Mom’s been asking about you as she’ll be coming home in a few days,” Sabrina said, quick to interrupt me.
And I would be lying if I said that the image of the shop didn’t hit harder than it should have.
It’s warm and cluttered safe space should have been the only sanctuary I needed.
And for a second, I nearly said yes, nearly promised something I knew I couldn’t deliver.
“I’ve got so much work on with this new campaign,” I said carefully, each word chosen with deliberate restraint.
“I’ll try to come by soon, though, okay?
I promise,” I added, hating how I lied as it was a promise I knew I had no right to make.
Not when my future was so damn uncertain right now.
And I couldn’t help if she had heard it in my voice, as there was a small pause, the kind filled with unspoken concern.
“Okay, but don’t disappear on me again. I love you, Lily-pad,” she said gently.
“I love you too,” I replied, the words catching slightly as I ended the call.
After that, the line went dead, and the silence that followed felt thicker than before. He had moved even closer while I was distracted, close enough that I could feel his presence like a shift in pressure behind me.
I slipped the phone back into my bag and swung the strap over my shoulder, then bent to lift the suitcase from the floor. The weight of it grounded me, something solid and ordinary in a situation that was anything but.
“Eliza.”
The sound of my name in his voice stopped me before I could take another step.
Yet I didn’t turn as I couldn’t trust what might show on my face if I did.
So, I stood there, facing the doorway, one hand gripping the strap of my handbag, the other wrapped around the handle of the suitcase, and I felt him slowly approach.
The air between us tightened as his fingers brushed the back of my neck.
Not abruptly, not possessively in the crude sense, but with a measured softness that sent a tremor through me all the same.
He gathered my hair to one side, clearing the line of my throat with careful precision, and the simple intimacy of the gesture made my breathing falter.
Then his breath warmed my skin.
He leaned closer, inhaling slowly, as though committing something to memory. A low sound rumbled faintly from him before he murmured against the curve of my neck,
“Lily-pad.” The nickname no longer sounded playful. It carried weight now, something deeper and far more intimate.
Before I could decide whether to pull away or lean into it, his hand slid down from my neck to the case I was holding. With effortless ease, he relieved me of it, taking the weight from my grasp without force, without argument, as though it had always belonged in his hand instead of mine.
Then he stepped past me.
As he did, his free hand closed around mine, not gripping hard enough to bruise but firm enough to remove any illusion that this was a request as he…
Led me from the room.