Grasping Fate

Alessandra was fuming. Or at least, she was trying to be.

After what had happened, she was too mortified to even glance at Elijah, let alone speak to him. She’d never felt so exposed, so vulnerable.

In that moment, she could have taken Elijah right there and then—not that he needed to know that.

But there was something about the tension, the sensation of unraveling, the heat that spread across her skin when he touched her.

She found herself wishing she hadn’t lost her virginity before him, not that he knew yet. Her eyes widened at the thought of his reaction when he found out. He wouldn’t be pleased.

She felt as if she’d betrayed him. The part of her that was tethered to his very soul was throbbing with pain, making her feel slightly nauseous.

She might as well get it over with now, while he was still upset. Rip off the bandage all at once, right?

She swallowed hard, “Elijah...” she began, her heart pounding. Why the fuck do I feel like this? Her heart was racing and her breath was shaky. Her pulse quickened.

Elijah turned to her swiftly, sensing her fear. Her heartbeat was thundering in her chest. What was wrong? He wondered. “What's wrong, Alessandra?” He asked gently.

“I uh—about the whole mating thing...” She trailed off, unsure of how to broach the subject, especially while sitting in his lap in a car that he was driving at high speed. The sparks that danced across her torn clothes were intense, making her pussy clench in anticipation. Now is not the time! She scolded herself.

Elijah's eyes widened in understanding, “There's no need to be afraid, amica mea. I will take very good care of you.” He nuzzled her neck, planting a possessive kiss on her collarbone.

“No—No, it's not that—it's just—I know it's a weird question, but would you... uh, would you care if, hypothetically, I wasn't a virgin?” She blurted out. Her voice dropped to a whisper, though she knew he’d heard her.

His face turned ashen, the temperature in the car dropped drastically, and his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer into his chest. His eyes darkened, but he didn’t stop the car. His voice was so low she barely heard him, “I already know about that.” His voice was eerily calm, more frightening than when he was growling.

“I felt it.” He whispered, “The bond wasn't significant for you because you didn't know I existed. But it was very much present for me.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “I felt it one night when I'd just got off work, the pain was so unbearable I knew what had happened instantly. I went on a rampage, heading straight for you.

“Luckily, Alexander knew what was happening and managed to restrain me. That...” his eyes flashed, “boy.” He snarled with disgust. “Was leaving Mrs. Templelock's Estate—covered in your scent. He told your red-haired friend that for some reason you were screaming in agony when you guys... tried to do it. I fucking lost it.”

Alessandra gasped, realization dawning on her. “You—You killed him! You killed someone because of me!” The guilt that had been gnawing at her for years hit her like a ton of bricks. He was dead because of her. She'd practically killed him. Just because she was done with the pain, she had ended someone's life. How fucking selfish are you? A voice hissed in her head. You're fucking sick. You should've died alone in that village too.

“He fucking touched you!” His roar echoed in the car, shaking her to her core, “Qui tetigerit immundum mea. Ille punitus.”

“But...” Her lip quivered, she'd killed him. An innocent person. Dead. It was her fault.

“You can't just kill someone because they touched me.” She whispered, her voice breaking.

“Why?” He snarled, “Did you care for him, is that why you're upset?”

She turned to him and spat, “No! For fuck’s sake, no! Don't pin this on me! It's not my fault that I feel guilty because it's my fault he died, okay? I was fucking sick of everything and the pain that followed if I found someone even remotely attractive. I was confused and scared it would stop me from being able to find a mate, alright?

“I was stupid and thought maybe I could just fuck it out of my system, but then I ended up in the fucking hospital because I was in so much agony.” Her voice broke, tears streaming down her face. “I thought everyone would think I was even more of a freak. I didn't know what I was doing. I'm sorry I caused you to feel too much pain, but right now, this is not just my fault.”

Elijah sat there stunned, pain? She felt pain? That wasn't part of the deal when they'd had her memory tampered with.

He'd paid a witch millions to have her memory tampered with, and it hadn't even been done right. He was more angry about her suffering than the wasted money. That useless piece of shit!

He snapped internally.

He felt no remorse in killing the... boy. He didn't want to tell her, knowing it wouldn't make her feel any better, but he'd done it quickly. A snap of the neck had done the job.

The boy probably never knew what was happening until he turned up in the afterlife.

He watched another tear slip from Alessandra's eyes, falling onto her exposed creamy thighs as she stared at her lap, her mind buzzing with sorrow and regret. How fucking selfish could one be?

To cause another to die in pain, alone in the middle of the woods.

“He felt no pain, amica mea. It was quick,” Elijah mumbled, as if reading her thoughts. This made a small, thin cord in her snap. She shuffled, trying to pull herself back over the center console of the massive car. These things had to be modified to get bigger than the original make.

“Whoa,” Elijah held onto her waist, making her bristle with more anger, trying to remove his arm that was the size of a tree trunk from around her waist, “Where the fuck do you think you're going?” He growled, clearly annoyed.

“Get off me,” she snapped, squirming in his grip.

“If you don’t quit moving around, I’m going to wreck this car,” he warned, his voice laced with frustration.

“Go ahead, see if I care,” she retorted, her voice devoid of emotion.

“Why are you acting like this? Just sit still.”

“Take your hands off me, now.”

“Quit squirming, you’re turning me on.”

Alessandra froze, repulsed by her earlier actions. She couldn’t believe she’d actually cared enough about his opinion to ask him about her virginity.

What happened to the Alessandra who didn’t give a damn about what boys thought of her?

She was attracted to a man who’d killed someone she’d slept with. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

And even though she tried—god, how she tried—she couldn’t bring herself to feel disgusted with Elijah. No matter how much she wanted to.

That didn’t mean she wanted to be sitting in his lap, speeding down the highway towards the kingdom.

But he was right, he was aroused. Incredibly so. Right beneath her bare bottom. She could feel his hardness straining against his jeans.

Alessandra snapped out of her daze, realizing that sitting in his lap was not a safe place to be.

“Stop it,” she snapped.

He smirked at her, “Well, you could always try.”

“STOP. You don’t get to say that. Not now. Not ever,” she growled. He didn’t get to talk like that after what he’d done.

He shrugged, “One way or another, you’ll be mine, amica mea. You’ll bear my mark and only my mark. You’re just delaying the inevitable. How many times do I have to say it before you realize there’s no escaping this bond? Whether you want it or not.”

“I will never bear your mark. You’re a killer.”

“Yeah. I guess I am. But I do what I have to do to do my job,” he replied, unfazed by her accusation.

“What, and killing him was part of your job?” she asked incredulously.

“It was part of my job to keep you safe. That means no one touches you or even looks at you the wrong way. I failed once, I won’t fail again. Do you understand?” His voice was serious as he searched her eyes.

“I’m not a job, Elijah. I’m a person.” His eyes darkened as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply.

“It will always be my job to protect you,” he said gruffly.

Her heart fluttered against her will. This jerk. Trying to make her go all soft on him and forgive him.

She began to move again, this time making it halfway across the console before she was yanked back into his solid, broad chest. Heat flared where his hands touched her bare skin.

“Alessandra, stop it and behave,” his voice was rough and husky, sending a shiver down her spine. No. No. No.

“I just want to sit in my own seat. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“First, watch your language. Second, you’re staying right where you belong. In my lap.”

She rolled her eyes, “I do not—I repeat, I do not belong in your damn lap, just let me sit in my own seat.”

“You’re right... maybe you don’t belong on my lap—”

“Thank you. Now let me—”

“You belong on my dick—right as I make you come apart beneath me.” His sultry smile nearly melted Alessandra's panties. A dimple appeared on his left cheek, his golden eyes sparkled with mischief, and a few loose strands of dark hair fell across his forehead.

She gave one final tug and found herself back in her seat, her stomach doing flips. Her heart pounded in her chest.

As she took a deep breath, trying to mask the scent of her arousal, she reminded herself that he was a murderer who’d killed someone she’d slept with. This was not okay. She was in dangerous territory.

And she had no idea how to navigate it.

***

Once again, she found herself in Elijah's condo. It was mid-afternoon and she’d curled up in a large armchair, refusing to move.

She wouldn’t speak to Elijah, much to his growing frustration.

She heard him approach, his footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. He crouched down beside the chair, “What do you want for dinner?” he asked. “We could have sushi? There’s a great sushi bar by the harbor. Or we could get takeout if you don’t feel like going out.”

She didn’t understand why he still trusted her to go outside after last time. Maybe because he knew she wouldn’t run away with him right there, anchoring her.

Alessandra continued to stare blankly at the wall in front of her, fiddling with the strings of the hoodie Elijah had given her when they’d first arrived because of her ripped jeans.

It was so big it practically reached her knees. He was ridiculously tall though. At least six foot seven.

“Look, Alessandra. Amica mea. Please talk to me. Just tell me if you’re hungry or not,” he pleaded, stepping into her line of sight.

Alessandra simply lowered her gaze to the sleeves that swallowed her hands and shook her head.

She was still wracked with guilt and torn between wanting to be held in his arms and wanting to be left alone. Were my emotions always this confusing? she wondered.

“I know you’re mad at me. But don’t starve yourself, don’t hurt yourself because of me, sweetheart, please.” He gently stroked the side of her face, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. She pulled away instantly, determined not to be drawn to this monster. Not today. Not ever.

He sighed, “I’m going to order pizza. You’re going to eat some even if I have to force-feed it to you.”

He stood up and walked away silently, leaving her thoughts in a jumble. She’d never wanted to hate someone and sleep with them so badly in her life, it was baffling.

He told you this would happen, a voice in her head sneered.

She nodded silently to herself as she wallowed in a bubble of guilt, desire, and confusion.