5. Elle
5
ELLE
T he sound of the doorbell echoes from downstairs. I glance towards the open door of my bedroom, but I know that there are several people down in the kitchen and living room, so I don’t need to rush down the stairs to open the front door. And besides, whoever is ringing the doorbell won’t be here for me anyway.
So instead, I simply reach for my purse. Since I’m only wearing a chic black dress and a pair of thin black pantyhose, I don’t have any pockets to put my phone and keys into, so I slip them into my small purse and then sling it over my shoulder. Then I check to make sure that the buttons on the white lace collar of the dress are properly fastened and that no stray strands of hair are sticking out of my braid.
Satisfied, I take one step towards the door.
“Elle!” Brandi calls from downstairs.
My heart jerks and ice spreads through my veins.
I can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s annoyed.
A pulse of panic ripples through me. Is she annoyed with me ? Why is she annoyed with me? Have I done something wrong? Oh God, I’m already off to a terrible start with forgetting to buy groceries and then arriving home late, without any groceries, because Tristan kidnapped me and threw my car keys into the forest. I can’t afford to make any more mistakes right now.
After putting on a pair of black flats, I hurry down the stairs and towards the sound of Brandi’s voice.
Stunned disbelief hits me like a blow to the chest when I find her standing in the front door, facing Tristan.
Brandi turns towards me when she hears me coming. She has her arms crossed over her chest, and her mouth is pressed into a thin line. Her entire posture radiates irritation and disappointment.
Nausea rolls through my stomach. I open my mouth to explain myself and to apologize, but Tristan beats me to it.
Standing there right on the other side of the threshold, he leans slightly to the side so that he can meet my gaze from behind Brandi, and flashes me a grin. “Hey, sweetheart.”
My heart stops.
My brain malfunctions.
Every single cohesive thought evaporates from my head.
For a few seconds, all I can do is stare at him, my mouth open. Sweetheart? Did he just call me sweetheart ?
“Ready to go?” he asks casually. As if this bizarre conversation is somehow supposed to make sense.
“Elle,” Brandi says. Her voice is practically dripping with disappointment. “You do remember that I told you that no boys are allowed in or outside the house, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” I assure her.
Shock still clangs inside my skull, so I give my head a quick shake to clear it. Then I tear my stunned gaze from Tristan and meet Brandi’s annoyed stare .
“I don’t know what he’s doing here,” I explain, a pleading note creeping into my voice. “I didn’t ask him to come.” My gaze flicks to Tristan. “And why are you calling me sweetheart ?”
“What do you mean?” he asks while frowning so convincingly that even I almost believe him. “You asked me to come by and walk you to school.”
Brandi’s expression sours even more.
“What?” I blurt out. Panic spikes through my spine as I glance desperately between Tristan and Brandi. “No, I didn’t. I?—”
“Perhaps you should just get going,” Brandi interrupts.
“But I?—”
“Some of the other girls are still getting dressed. And having a boy standing here in our doorway is making them uncomfortable.”
She takes a step to the side and makes a sharp gesture with her hand, motioning for me to go outside. Embarrassment sears my cheeks. I swallow and then awkwardly walk past her and out onto the porch.
“We’ll see you at lunch,” Brandi says, her tone clipped.
Then she shuts the door behind me.
Mortification crashes over me, and I have to briefly close my eyes against the violent nausea that rolls through me. Then I remember that Tristan is standing right next to me, and the emotion is quickly replaced by anger. I whirl around to face him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I snap.
I get an overwhelming urge to shove him back in rage. But one look at his muscled body reminds me that getting into a physical altercation with someone who could snap me in half with one hand is a really bad idea. So instead, I just squeeze my hands into fists and glare up at him.
His stupid mouth curves into a grin. And now that Brandi is gone, his smile is full of mockery.
“Walking you to school,” he replies, his eyes glinting in the pale morning sunlight.
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
He takes an abrupt step forward and twists so that he is standing next to me, and then drapes his arm over my shoulders. It’s such a casually intimate gesture that my heart jerks in my chest.
“Are you sure?” he mocks.
Sucking in a quick breath, I try to get my brain to start working again. Then I quickly slip out from underneath his arm and give him that shove that I wanted to give him earlier. It does absolutely nothing to push him away from me. Instead, he just raises his eyebrows in a show of surprise.
Something dangerously close to a snarl escapes my lips. Whipping around, I stalk down from the porch and stride towards the street, leaving the infuriating devil behind.
Even though he only placed an arm over my shoulders, it feels as if my entire outfit is rumpled. While I hurry down the road, I straighten my dress and check the buttons on my collar before running a hand down my braid as well.
Tristan’s footsteps come from behind me, closing in on me quickly.
My pulse thrums. Even though it was only for a few seconds, I can still feel the weight and heat of his arm around my shoulders.
I give my head a quick shake and pick up the pace.
“I thought I told you not to make me chase you,” Tristan warns .
A jolt shoots through me. Both at the dark threats in his tone and at the memory of what he did the last time he chased me down. The memory of his lethal body straddling me on the ground and pinning my hands above my head.
I cast a quick look over my shoulder.
Tristan’s mouth tilts in a smile that says that he is thinking about the same thing.
My heart flutters.
If he did something similar here, right in the middle of the residential area, it would cause such a scene that my reputation would never be able to recover from it. And I cannot afford to be anything less than perfect. So instead of trying to escape, I pause for a few seconds and let him catch up to me.
A satisfied smirk plays over his lips as we continue walking side by side.
I ignore it and instead focus on the road ahead.
Morning mist clings to the lawns on either side of the road, but it is quickly being burnt off by the rising sun. It’s not even eight o’clock yet but the air is already warm, which means that today is going to be scorching hot. I glance down at the dress I’m wearing. It ends at my mid-thighs, and it’s sleeveless, but the collar is buttoned all the way up to my throat. And practically the entire dress is also black. Perhaps I should’ve picked something else.
My skin prickles, and I suddenly remember that Tristan is walking beside me. Snapping my gaze to him, I find him studying me with those intense eyes of his. My stomach lurches. I whip my gaze back to the street ahead.
Worry flits through my chest.
The last time I was alone with him, he took me out into the woods and told me that he was going to ruin my life .
What’s his plan? What is he doing here now?
I keep stealing nervous glances at him while we make our way towards the main campus area.
But Tristan says nothing. Does nothing. Only walks there beside me in silence.
The closer we get to our destination, the more worried I become. If he’s going to do something, he will do it soon.
When we’re passing the last building, I’m so nervous that I look more at Tristan than the road ahead.
His mouth curves into a wicked smile, and he slides his gaze to me. “What? You think I’m going to kill you or something?”
I lick my lips. “Given that you almost strangled me last time I saw you, I don’t think my apprehension is entirely unjustified.”
It happens so quickly that I don’t even have time to cry out in surprise.
One second, I’m walking and speaking. The next, I’m pushed up against the wall in the narrow space between two buildings. Away from prying eyes. And with Tristan’s hand around my throat.
My heart slams against my ribs.
“You think I was strangling you last time?” he asks. Then he chuckles. The sound is full of threats and mockery. “I’m actually very good at choking people. Do you want me to show you?”
While desperately shaking my head, I yank up my hands and wrap them around his tattooed forearm in an attempt to push his hand away from my throat. But his arm might as well have been made of steel. He just raises his free hand and plants it against the wall next to my head while flashing me a sharp smile .
Then he tightens his fingers around my throat.
To my surprise, it doesn’t hurt. At all. But it cuts off my air completely.
Standing there pinned against the wall, I just stare up at Tristan with wide eyes as my lungs stop working. My hands are still wrapped around his forearm, and I can feel his muscles shift underneath my palms as he suppresses my breathing.
I thought I was going to be terrified. But to my utter shock, I’m not.
The pressure to always be perfect often makes it feel as if there are steel bands wrapped around my chest, making it hard to breathe. And now, with Tristan’s hand around my throat, I can’t breathe either. But this is somehow… different.
Though I’m not sure how. Or why. Or what to do with that realization.
Right before my lungs can start burning, Tristan relaxes his grip.
Air floods down my throat again as I suck in deep breaths.
My head is spinning, but I’m not entirely sure that it’s due to the brief moments without oxygen.
“ That’s how you choke someone,” Tristan says.
Since I have no idea what to say, I just stare up at him.
Cocking his head, he shoots a pointed look at the hands I still have wrapped around his forearm. “Unless you want another demonstration, I’d suggest you remove your hands.”
I start, reality snapping back into me with a jolt. Releasing my grip on his forearm, I quickly let my hands drop back down by my sides.
He lets out a smug chuckle. “Good. Now, don’t move.”
Before I can reply, he takes his hand off my throat and instead reaches for the buttons on my collar .
Electricity zaps through my spine as he starts unbuttoning the first one.
I draw in an unsteady breath, my heart beating like a battle drum in my chest.
“Tristan,” I manage to press out. It comes out like a choked whisper.
With a smirk on his lips, he meets my gaze while he continues to the next button. “Yes, sweetheart?”
I don’t even remember what I was going to say as he efficiently undoes the final three buttons and then pushes the fabric aside, exposing my collarbones. His knuckles brush against my skin on the way back. It sends a pulse through my whole body.
Tristan’s smirk only grows.
Then he drops his hands and instead slides them up my thigh.
My heart is pounding so hard against my ribs that I think they’re going to break.
Trapped against the wall, all I can do is to stare up at the devil before me as he wraps his strong hands around my thigh.
Then he grips the sheer fabric of my pantyhose and rips a hole in them.
I gasp.
He lets out a dark chuckle.
The sound of tearing fabric fills the narrow alleyway as he rips a hole in the material right in the middle of my other thigh as well.
My pulse thrums in my ears.
His fingers skim against my bare skin before he takes his hands off my thighs. I drag in short, uneven breaths.
He steps impossibly closer .
I’m forced to press myself harder against the wall. But even despite my efforts, my breasts now brush against his body every time I breathe. He traces his fingers along my jaw. Lightning skitters across my skin in the wake of his touch.
Then he draws his hand down towards the back of my neck.
Every analytical ability in my brain has fled. I have no idea what on earth this man is doing anymore. And why. All I know is that my body is reacting to his commanding touches in a way that is very wrong.
Tristan brushes his fingers up the back of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver of pleasure through my body.
Then he grabs my braid and pulls it forward over my shoulder instead. Drawing his hand down the length of it, he grips the elastic band tying it in place and pulls it off. The braid immediately starts coming apart.
He helps it along with his fingers.
Once the braid is fully undone, he slides both hands through my hair and ruffles it until it’s fluffed out and completely mussed.
There is a strange throbbing sensation between my legs.
It feels as if my nerves are on fire.
I’m not even sure if my heart is beating anymore.
Then he steps back.
For a moment, it’s as if time itself is no longer moving.
Tristan rakes his intense gaze up and down my body. Heat sears through my veins at the way he is looking at me.
Then he meets my eyes once more and flashes me a wicked smile full of satisfaction. “There. Now, you look less perfect and more like someone has just fucked you against the wall of an alley.”
Reality slams back into me .
It’s so violent that I actually jerk back from the force of it.
Snapping my gaze down, I stare at myself.
There are two giant rips in my pantyhose, my collar is unbuttoned and creased, and my hair is an absolute mess.
Steel bands immediately wrap around my chest, squeezing so hard that I lose my breath.
Oh, God. I can’t go to class like this. What would people say? What would they think?
I suck in short, sharp breaths as the pressure around my chest becomes almost physically painful. Panic courses through my body like waves of molten fire.
My gaze lands on Tristan’s hand, and the hair tie he is still holding. I lunge for it.
Surprise flits across his face. But his reflexes are still too fast. He yanks his hand away before I can snatch the hair tie from him. And before I can make another attempt, he slips it around his wrist.
“You want this?” he taunts, holding up his wrist to show the hair tie that now circles it. “You’ll have to fight me for it.”
The thin elastic band sits there against his skin, right below where his tattoos end. I stare at it longingly. But I know that I would never be able to take it from him, so I just swallow and then force out a tight breath instead. The pressure on my chest remains, making it difficult to get the air out.
I raise my hands towards my hair instead, determined to fix the mess he made even without the hair tie.
“Do it,” Tristan’s voice suddenly cracks through the air like the strike of a whip.
It stuns me so much that I pause with my hands halfway to my hair. Blinking, I raise my eyes and meet his gaze.
His expression is dark. Full of threats .
“Fix your hair. Button your collar.” Challenge pulses from every word he speaks as he stares me down. “I fucking dare you.”
Hesitation courses through me.
Standing there frozen by the wall, my hands still hovering halfway to my hair, I just stare back at him while my heart beats erratically in my chest.
I can’t go to class looking like this. Anything less than perfect is unacceptable. It is the one rule that my parents have drilled into me since I was old enough to hold a spoon. And the thought of people seeing me in this awful and compromising state makes me want to vomit.
But at the same time…
Worry snakes through my chest as I stare at Tristan.
I fucking dare you , he said.
What is he going to do to me if I disobey?
As if he can read the internal battle in my eyes, he lets out a smug chuckle before a sharp smile settles on his lips. Placing two fingers underneath my chin, he gives it a brief push upwards. As if mockingly saying, chin up .
Then he rakes his gaze over my messy appearance one last time. Smirks. And walks away.