by Liza James
She was frozen, literally frozen. I saw it—fuck I felt it—that’s why I had to rush in there and make sure she was okay. But then everything changed in an instant, and now I have absolutely no idea what could be happening.
“Please,” Luna’s soft voice breaks me out of my thoughts as her small hand lands over the thin cotton of my black shirt, covering my abs. “Tell me.”
Fuck. Even through my shirt I can feel her touch, the mild spark that’s beginning to erupt under my skin. My blood is boiling in desire for her, reaching up and urging hers to come and dance. I glance down at her hand and then turn to her, she’s watching the connection too, a small crease between her brows form in confusion. I need to change the subject from what she’s feeling, but I’m too selfish to take her hand off of me.
“I got involved with a couple of children who were in trouble,” I spit the words out quicker than I intend, catching her off guard. Her eyes dart back up to mine, searching me for more answers.
“And you can’t do that?” She asks, her hand staying still against my abs. My cock is rock hard at the simple touch and I have to subtly readjust my sweats so that she doesn’t see.
“No. We can’t interfere with humans. We can be present, share our aura and instill peace in times of hardship or fear, but we can’t directly interfere,” I explain, the memories of that day still haunting me. I try not to think about it anymore, it was the beginning of so much destruction.
Betrayal, love, anger, hatred.
“What did you do?” I know she wants the story, but I don’t think I can give it to her. It’s too much, too personal for what we have to keep dividing us.
“Luna, it was a long time ago,” I try to end the conversation, but her fist immediately grips my shirt tightly her in hand. An electric shock rushes through me at the action and I instinctively move to pull her hand into mine but stop at the last second, keeping my touch at bay.
“Don’t shut down, please. I get it. Neither of us wants this, you’ve made that absolutely clear. But that doesn’t mean we can’t, I don’t know, at least know each other. Give me something, Elijah,” she pleads with me, frustration lining her voice and I can tell she’s actually holding herself back from what she really wants to say. I’m pretty sure she has a few unkind words to speak, but she’s working hard to placate me into telling her.
I can’t help it, I fucking laugh. I laugh at the fact that I can so clearly see that she’s pissed but is working to fake her way through it in order for me to give this to her. She leans away from me, removing her hand from my stomach and immediately, I feel the loss spiral through my chest.
“Why are you laughing?” she asks incredulously. I see the waves of shock in her eyes as she watches in astonishment.
“Because, you’re trying awfully hard to get me to tell you what happened. Including hiding your anger in order to appease me.” Fuck, I want her to touch me again. I’d even settle for her leaning a little closer to me, give me something to hold on to while I cross this fucking barrier I’ve created between us.
Her knowing smirk lifts at my accusation, clearly agreeing with me and not feeling sorry for it. “Tell me,” she says again.
I sigh in reluctance and lean back, staring up at the ceiling of the white room. “Nathanial and I guarded the throne in Arcadia,” I begin, and I realize I’m going to have to tell her how I knew Amelia with this story. I don’t want her to know that part of my life, any part that includes Amelia but it’s instrumental to my Fall. “Amelia was our close friend. She was in a lower class than us, but she observed humans. We had known her almost all our lives, grew up together. She knew Nathanial always felt for the human race. He was always trying to help other Angels, and comfort people when he could step in without getting involved. Nathanial has always had a heart for taking care of others. It’s why he makes such an amazing doctor now in this life. But Amelia had seen something, a couple of kids who needed help. There was no other way around it, if we hadn’t stepped in, they would have died. Nathanial couldn’t say no and the two of them came to me. We knew it would end with us Falling, we were directly interfering with two lives.” I keep going, refusing to shut down at this point. I’ve come too far. But I’m not giving her intricate details, just the vague recollection of why we Fell. “We thought Amelia truly wanted to help, but she had other plans designed around her own quest for the throne. Either way, we did end up saving the children and it did result in us falling.”
I turn to look at her after several moments of silence and am immediately taken back by the tears welling in her eyes. I’ve never seen her cry, not even when she almost died at the hands of Amelia and Danner. I search her eyes with my own, absently opening the bond between us without even realizing it until her emotions flood through my system and I groan instinctively. She’s hurting, for so much more than this cursed blood bond between us.
I feel her pain over what she saw happen tonight with Sam. I ache at the anguish she holds over her childhood. I perceive the connection and relation she feels to my story, as if it resonates with her on some level. I know what would help, what would comfort the both of us, but I refuse to ask for it. Her simple touch would bridge this empty longing between us.
But I don’t realize that I’ve already done exactly that, asked for it without verbalizing it. Because suddenly her hand is back on my stomach, her thumb stroking back and forth across my abs as a single tear breaks through her lashes and falls down her face.
“It was worth it, right?” she asks and the oddest sensation floods through me. As if she’s seeking forgiveness. Guilt rides through her mind like a deafening ocean wave. She asks for absolution as if I could give it to her, even though it isn’t mine to give.
“Of course,” I say, giving it to her anyway. Because I fucking can’t deny her this. I feel the pain lancing through her chest and ripping at her heart.
She closes her eyes and slides down on the bed so that she’s tucked up against the pillows and nestles closer to my side. “Thank you,” she whispers as I drop my hand to the silky strands her hair. I can’t keep away from right now while she’s so vulnerable and in so much pain from what I did to her. It eats at me, like a vicious poison that I both deserve and crave to feel the sting over.
I lean over her just a bit and click the bedside lamp off before returning my fingers back to selfishly tangle in her hair. I know this is wrong. This is a disaster waiting to happen. I know it won’t be like this tomorrow. I lean my head back and close my eyes, reluctantly succumbing to sleep before I sneak out of here in the morning.
“You give her important parts of you,” Luna’s quiet voice tears through the darkness. Pain laces her tone as it works its way up her throat. Immediately, I believe she’s referring to Sam and I on the couch earlier.
“Not that,” she quickly adds, as if she knows what I’m thinking. “Although that does hurt like a bitch.”
“Lun—” I start, because I feel it. I literally feel the excruciating pain she experiences when she thinks about it.
“No. I’m not talking about that,” her voice is firm, effectively shutting down that subject as she pauses before continuing. “You gave her your smile tonight. You never give that. I’ve hardly ever seen it, but tonight you gave her all of it,” she finishes on a whisper and I’m taken aback by her declaration. I’ve never thought about something so simple being so important to anyone else.
She’s right though, I never smile. I’ve been through far too much shit to have anything to smile about. But she’s wrong about me giving it to Sam. I’m fake around everyone else, a false personification of who I need to be to keep everyone around me in check. I smiled in order to manipulate my own relationship with Sam, so that she’s not second guessing or nosing into my blood bond with Luna. I smiled because I knew Luna was watching. I smiled because I knew it would show her a fabricated representation of something I had with Sam that I didn’t have with her. I smiled for the exact reason she’s giving me now.
And
it hurts. It’s fucking destroying me on the inside to hear her say that it worked. God, I hate how this has to be between us.
“Every single thing I do, is because I believe it’s what is best for you, mo dheamhan beag.” This time, I don’t call her my little Demon with any bite in my voice. I use it as I always intend it, how I hear it in my own head, before I taint it with unrequited logic and agonizing disdain.
As a blazing claim, staking my place within her heart. Making her mine in every way she should be.
My little Demon.
It’s been three days.
Three days since I had the little freeze up in the bathroom. Three days since Elijah finally opened up, even briefly, and told me about his Fall. Three days since I woke up alone after falling asleep tucked into his warm side. Three days that I’ve been frozen cold on the inside, trying to stay as close to him but as far away as possible as I seek out his heat.
It’s getting harder to ignore this blood bond between us. It’s a constant voice in the back of my mind, reminding me that I need him, shouting at me to claim him, dragging me back and then punishing me when I don’t. But I can’t, because Sam is around, and she’s on my opposite shoulder, prodding me with every detail she can about their relationship.
The bond is settling deeper than my blood. He’s in my DNA now, every fiber and cell in my body. He’s made home in every space of my mind. Even the darkest places that I refuse to enter, he’s somehow infused himself there too. When we’re in the same room together, it’s like my blood surges and sings for him, a siren trying to lure her prey with only the simple act of being present.
And yet, somehow, I don’t think he feels it. Somehow, I believe this bond is different for me than it is for him and that’s what makes everything so much worse. I don’t understand how that could be possible. How does every inch of my body crave him like he’s the only oxygen I can consume, and yet he hardly glances my way when I live in the same damn house?
“Nathanial and Stella should be coming over tomorrow.” Elijah’s deep voice surprises me. It’s the first time he’s said a word to me in three days. My head darts up as I watch him enter the living room. I’m lounging on the couch, trying to occupy my mind with a good book, but utterly failing at the attempt. Nothing distracts me from Elijah.
“Why?” I ask. I’m glad Stella is coming, thrilled in fact. I need to tell her about the Angels and Demons soon. I’m also a bit worried about what she confided in me a few days ago.
He takes a seat on the arm of the worn leather chair opposite me and crosses his ankles in front of him. My eyes fall from his face, admiring his sinewy arms crossed around his chest and the way his charcoal grey T-shirt clings tightly to his large frame. My eyes linger on the veins that can’t help but display themselves against his intricate tattoos. My mouth waters at the idea of running my tongue along every dip and rise of his forearms, working my down to his wrist, his fingers, sucking one into my mou—
“Because I believe you need to train, and Nathanial thinks we should get Stella started as well seeing as she is your full blooded sister and also half Demon and Angel.” His tone is clipped, and my eyes shoot back up to see his jaw tense, moving subtly as his teeth clench and unclench inside his mouth. Which draws my attention to the hard slope of his neck, his tan skin covered in sexual tattoos that practically speak to my blood on their own. I don’t even know what they mean, they’re swirls and sharp edges of dark lines that disappear under the neckline of his shirt. I can already feel how wet I am through my panties. My legs tighten together as I absently seek out some kind of fucking relief to this need. Observing his powerful neck brings me back to his chest, and back to those fucking arms that I so badly want to wrap around me. My waist, my thighs, lifting my legs and spreading me open for him so he can—
“Fucking hell, Luna. Pay attention.” He stands and stalks to the other side of the room, putting a solid amount of distance between us. He scrubs a hand up and down his face, mussing the light stubble he has shadowing his jaw. God, that’s fucking hot too. I wonder what that would feel like against my skin, in between my thighs and—
“Go.” He says as a hard edge laces his tone. He lifts an arm and points behind me.
I turn my head to look at where he’s indicating, confused when I realize he’s already moving towards the guest bathroom.
“What? Why?” I ask as I stand to follow him. I round the corner and see he’s crouched in the shower, twisting the knob all the way to the cold side.
“Get in.” His voice is demanding, leaving no room for argument.
“Are you serious?” No way. No way is forcing me to take a cold fucking shower.
“Yes. You fucking need it, and I can’t focus on anything when you’re like this.”
A thought crosses my mind as I make myself comfortable in the small space with him. “Like what?” It’s my turn to demand something. And I want to hear him say it. I cross my arms under my chest, lifting and drawing his attention to my breasts as they spill out of the top of my loose tank. His eyes immediately fall but shoot back up before he completely succumbs to ogling them.
“I will throw you in this shower myself, Luna. And it won’t be fucking fun.”
“Say it and I’ll get in.” I lift my hands and slowly untie my hair, releasing it from the messy knot I had on top of my head. The long tendrils fall down my back and around my shoulders. I watch as Elijah’s entire body tenses, his hands fisted at his sides as that tick in his jaw returns in full force.
I push him farther, letting my hands slip to the button on my jeans as I begin to undo them. Fuck, I don’t know what has gotten into me but I’m losing my mind to the nearness of him. I’m losing myself to the tiniest bit of vulnerability he showed me the other night, begging to have more of it.
Before I realize what he’s doing, he’s shot forward, caging me in without even touching me as he backs me up against the cool wall behind us. His foot kicks back as he slams the bathroom door, shutting us alone and inside.
“Do you think I won’t?” he lowers his voice to a deep growl before pausing. “When you’re horny and wet and practically coming over the sight of me.” His lips drop down to my ear as he whispers the words. I gasp in surprise at his crude tone, realizing now that I didn’t truly expect him to be so blunt about it.
“Are you, Luna? Are you wet right now?” His nose pushes into my hair, dragging it behind my ear as he breaths me in. “I bet you’re fucking soaked. Do you want me to fuck you?” He leans in closer, his body flush against mine as he rolls his hard cock into my lower stomach.
I whimper as my legs naturally part for him, inviting him further into my space. My head falls back against the wall as he rolls forward again, this time grinding against my pussy and creating that friction I’m fucking craving. I moan into the space around us and his lips fall back to my ear.
“Say it,” he whispers, throwing my words back at me. But I stay silent, lost in the trance of how my body is responding to him. Consumed by the way my blood is alive and rolling under my skin. Gone to the delicious heat that infects me while he’s so close.
“Say it, Luna.” His voice turns hard and grates against my insides. He demands something and I have to obey, submitting to the dominance he barks out through his tone and language.
“Yes,” I choke on the words, my breaths falling in and out in quick, rapid movements. “Yes, I want you to fuck me.”
Finally, my body literally lights up now that I’ve said the words to him. My need being voiced to the one person who has every ability to give it to me. The one drug tailored exactly for me, my perfect preference in every single way is him. It’s everything about him.
His head falls on a malicious laugh as he steps away from me, taking his heat with him. A sadistic smile pulls at his lips, but I notice the way it doesn’t reach his eyes. Whatever this is, it’s a front he’s putting on and I feel my heart sink to my stomach at the realization.
“Not in your dreams, sweetheart.”
The casual words fall from his lips like daggers directed at my heart. Piercing through the thick lust I had fallen into and shattering the little world I had let myself create over the last few days.
“Get the fuck out,” I spit at him, taking a step into his space as he glares down at me. His bright eyes are dark again, that evil masque worming its way into his features. “I said, get the fuck out!” I scream the words, shoving him back as I open the door and push him through it.
I slam the door in his face as uncontrollable rage radiates and consumes me. I rush towards the shower, turning the water to the hottest setting and stepping inside, fully clothed. I let it burn me, feel the heat as it stings my skin, branding me as a reminder that this is what it will always be between us. Something I need to stop forgetting. But God, deep down I know it isn’t real. I know he’s lying to my face. I can feel the way it hurts him to say the things he does.
And that’s the fucking vicious cycle of it. The fact that I know it’s not real. The pain I see in his eyes when he’s cruel keeps me coming back to him time and time again. Refusing to give up on what I know we can have if he would just bend a little bit. Give a little back to me.
Suddenly, the overwhelming need to stake my own claim takes over. The urge to remind him that he can’t lie to my face and expect me to take it consumes me. I step out of the shower, soaking wet in my heavy clothes and move to the door, yanking it open and stepping out. I stalk to the kitchen and find him hovering over the sink, chugging a glass of water as his back lifts and falls in heavy breaths.
“I’m not playing this fucking game with you,” I grind out through my teeth and he swings around quickly, clearly not having noticed my entrance through his own anger.
I lift the hem of my shirt and pull it up and over my wet hair, letting it drop the floor with a thump. “You can’t lie to me. I’m over it,” I unzip my jeans, yanking the wet fabric down my thighs as it clings to me. “I’m not fucking stupid and you don’t get to make me feel like shit for wanting you while you lie to my face.” I step out of my jeans and unclasp my bra, letting it fall off of my shoulders and to the ground.