Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
“You?” The word leaves me in a breath of disbelief, and for a second, all I can do is stare.
Elliott looms several yards away, dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie, his hulking figure half swallowed by shadows beneath the trees.
A faint glint of moonlight catches on the lenses of his glasses as he stares back at me from behind them, his expression unreadable– except I know him well enough now to recognize the tension beneath that blank mask he wears.
The rigid set of his shoulders; the muscle ticking along his jaw.
He lifts both hands slowly, showing me his palms as he takes another tentative step forward.
“Beatrix, let me explain.”
My arms fold across my chest defensively. “Explain what?” I spit.
He stops, his brows slamming down.
“That you almost drained me dry, then dumped me here and disappeared?” I scoff, my voice rising with every word as all the anger I’ve spent the last three days stewing in finally finds its target.
“Or that you’ve apparently been lurking outside James’ house instead of coming inside to see if I’m fucking alive? ”
His lips part, but I don’t give him a chance to answer.
Because something has started scratching at the back of my brain. The figure outside my apartment, the one across from the bar. And before that, outside Henry’s townhouse. My stomach swoops violently as I stare at Elliott, a chilling realization dawning.
“It was you,” I breathe, blinking at him. My pulse thunders in my ears, goosebumps pebbling along my skin as I point an accusatory finger in his direction. “It was you stalking me this whole time, wasn’t it?”
Something flickers across his face. Guilt. Then his throat bobs with a hard swallow as he averts his eyes, dipping his chin in a subtle nod.
A disbelieving laugh bursts out of me. “Seriously?”
“Beatrix…”
“Seriously?” I throw my head back, scrubbing both hands over my face before lowering it to stare at him again. “What the fuck, Eli?”
He takes another step toward me, and I immediately retreat, throwing up my hands. “Don’t.”
“Just listen to me,” he coaxes.
I flip him the bird, a bitter laugh slipping from my throat. “Fuck off.”
He doesn’t, though. He keeps coming.
I take a step backwards, then another, my heel catching on a root and making my balance falter. Elliott’s there instantly, his thick arm banding around my waist to catch me before I fall.
I grunt in frustration, shoving against him. “Let me go, asshole.”
“Beatrix.”
“Let me go!”
My fists beat against the solid wall of his chest, but his arm stays locked tightly around my waist, holding me firm against him.
“Not until you hear me out,” he says calmly.
“Oh, fuck you.”
I shove at him again, but of course he doesn’t budge an inch. Fucking vampire.
After a few more useless attempts to extricate myself from his grip, I finally give up, panting in frustration as my fingers twist in the fabric of his hoodie. My upper lip curls back from my teeth as I glare up at him.
“Then talk,” I snarl.
His dark eyes search mine through the lenses of his glasses, his mouth tightening.
“I never intended for this to happen,” he murmurs.
Another incredulous laugh tears out of me. “For what to happen?” I demand. “For you to creep on me, or for me to catch you doing it? Or maybe the part where you tried to rip my fucking throat out?”
He flinches, and suddenly another possibility occurs to me, my breath stalling.
“Wait… did you know?”
His brow furrows.
“About the bond,” I clarify, my fingers tightening in his hoodie as a desperate sense of betrayal cuts through the anger. “Did you know all along?”
“No,” he answers sharply, shaking his head. “I didn’t know.”
“Then why the hell have you been watching me from the shadows?”
His jaw flexes. “I’m just… drawn to you.”
I blink. “What?”
“From the first time we met, there was…” His jaw flexes as he trails off, visibly searching for the right words. “An abnormal degree of interest.”
“An abnormal degree of– Jesus Christ, Eli. You were stalking me.”
“I was observing you.”
“That’s literally the stalker version of saying you’re not stalking someone,” I huff, slapping my palms against his chest.
He frowns, not even flinching. “I found you fascinating,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t explain why. My attention returned to you regardless of how often I attempted to redirect it, and eventually, I stopped attempting to.”
I squint up at him. “So you just… watched me?”
“Yes.”
“What the fuck?” I shove against him again, and this time his arm loosens enough to give me a few inches of space.
“You do realize the entire reason I ended up as your source was because I thought I had a stalker, right?” I ask, my voice shrill.
“Was that your plan? Get me scared enough that I’d move in so you could keep tabs on me twenty-four seven? ”
“No,” he barks sharply, as if he finds the suggestion offensive. “I had nothing to do with what transpired between you and Vincent the evening he questioned you. I did, however, notice that your demeanor was off when you left the engagement with him.”
“Wait, what?” I gasp, my eyes widening. “You were stalking me then, too?”
“I began watching you shortly after we met at the donor gala,” he admits. “The fact that it took you weeks to notice demonstrates you had very little regard for your own safety.”
I shake my head slowly. “This is so fucked.”
His hold around my waist has softened– not restraining me anymore, just… there. And for some reason, I’m not pushing him away anymore.
“I never meant any harm,” Elliott mutters. “I was just… curious. Then James mentioned you required protection, so I offered to provide it.”
“You could’ve told me,” I grumble. “I thought I was losing my fucking mind.”
“I know.”
“And you kept doing it, even after I moved in.”
“Yes,” he replies bluntly. “I felt compelled to keep an eye on you. I followed when you left, and watched you at the penthouse through the video surveillance system.”
“You… what? Oh my god.”
I shove against his chest, and this time, he lets me push him away. I take several steps backwards, wrapping my arms around myself as I pace through the damp grass, everything I thought I understood about the last month rearranging itself inside my head.
Vincent, Elliott, the contract. The bite, the bond.
I stop, pivoting back toward him. “Why are you here now?”
“I wanted to see you,” he answers, voice low.
I hate how my chest tightens. How for a second, that alone feels like reason enough.
“So you just stand out here and stare through the fucking windows rather than actually coming to check on me?” I huff, gesturing toward the mansion. “Or did you just come to finish what you started?”
His head snaps up, gaze darkening. “No.”
I flinch at his tone, even though his anger doesn’t seem like it’s directed at me. More at himself, horror and guilt evident in his expression as he holds my stare.
“I never intended to hurt you, Beatrix,” he rasps.
“Well, you did,” I snap.
His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. “I know, and I deeply regret it.” He drags a hand through his hair, turning away for a moment before pivoting to face me again. “I lost control,” he growls, a pained look flashing across his face. “There’s no justification for my actions.”
“Then why haven’t you come to tell me that?” I demand, throwing my arms out dramatically. “I’ve been right fucking here, Elliott. For days. And you couldn’t even walk through the door?”
His brows draw in. “I was giving you time.”
“I didn’t ask for time,” I snap.
“You needed to heal.”
“You still could’ve checked on me.”
He draws a measured breath, gaze dropping to my throat. “I… didn’t trust myself with you.”
There it is.
My hand instinctively rises to the bandage that’s no longer there, fingertips brushing the healed skin where his fangs tore into me a few days ago.
Elliott looks away. “I still don’t,” he mumbles quietly.
My anger dissipates as that familiar ache blooms behind my ribs again. “Then why are you here?” I ask, my voice breaking.
His eyes return to mine, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looks… unsure. Not irritated, not infuriatingly calculating, but genuinely lost.
“I’ve always had this hunger,” he admits, holding my gaze. “When I was turned, I received all the usual gifts. Speed, strength, immortality. But I developed another ability as well. A rare one. Enhanced cognition."
“Super brain,” I grumble.
He jerks a nod. “Essentially. Vampires call it Sapientia. My capacity for learning, memory, pattern recognition, information retention… all of it is heightened beyond what would otherwise be possible.”
I nod slowly. “Okay…”
“But gifts are rarely without consequence.” His jaw tightens, the muscle in it feathering.
“The hunger for knowledge is constant. I can satisfy a question, but doing so invariably creates ten more. There is no endpoint. No moment where my mind simply decides it has enough.” His gaze drops briefly to my throat. “My bloodlust functions similarly.”
A chill moves through me as his dark eyes lift to mine again.
“When I was younger, I believed discipline would be sufficient,” he continues. “That with enough practice and control, I could learn to feed normally. But I couldn’t.”
I watch him carefully, the anger that brought me charging out here slowly giving way to something colder.
“I would bite someone intending to take only what I required,” he says, his voice unnervingly even. “But once I started, there was no point at which the hunger diminished. Every swallow only intensified the need for another.”
My stomach twists as I ask, “How many?”
He averts his eyes. “Too many. Every human I drank from, I drained.”
The words settle over me like a lead weight.
Every human.
I think about the way he drinks from a glass instead of a vein. The way he refused to bite me no matter how relentlessly I pushed. All those warnings I mistook for stubbornness or some weird hang-up he refused to explain.
You don’t know what you’re asking for.
Turns out, I really fucking didn’t.