Elias (GRIT Sector 1)

by Rebecca Sherwin

  He’d said nothing else; we’d walked in silence along the corridor and it no longer felt cold. The damp chill no longer made me uncomfortable. It no longer chilled my bones or made me shudder and search for warmth in my leader.

  I just wanted to get out.

  When we were back in the foyer and I felt the warm marble beneath my feet, Elias stopped me, held onto my shoulders for a fraction too long, and then he removed the blindfold. He’d aged. I hadn’t had a proper look at him in the candlelight of the dungeon, through my own tears and the flash of pain and fear for what he’d do to me, but I swear he’d aged during our time in the Sector. He looked wary, tired and worried. He looked regretful and remorseful, and yet he’d still cut me. He’d still soaked me with water from a rusty jug. He’d still tortured me with a feather, offering me a soft yet violent arousal against the anxiety of being chained to a cross in a fucking dungeon. Had I dreamt it all? Had I blacked out and we’d been standing in this foyer the entire time?

  Elias reached forward and plucked the feather from my hair, letting it flutter to the floor before he started combing his fingers through my wet locks.

  “What are you doing?” I rasped, narrowing my eyes as I looked into his.

  I couldn’t understand, again, why he’d done what he did and why he was standing here now like the knight sent in to take the pain away. Why hadn’t he been this caring during my lesson? Why hadn’t he just sat me down and told me everything? I felt violated. I felt disrespected. I was embarrassed that he’d had the ability to take me prisoner and I’d allowed him to do it. How could I be angry when I’d asked him to show me the truth? How could I be mad when I’d pushed him by not listening? I’d forced him into more extreme action. But now? Now I felt defeated. I’d never backed down, I’d never shown my weaknesses, but Elias drew them out of me one by one and toyed with them like they were there for the ridicule. Perhaps that was my role. Perhaps I was the family jester.

  “Stop it,” he said, ignoring my question and taking my face in his hands. I tried to look away, but he held me still. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This wasn’t a punishment or a test. It was just a lesson.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Who?”

  “The man who hated me in the dungeon? How do you just switch personas so quickly? This Elias right here…I would have listened to him without him having to tie me down and hurt me.”

  Even as I said it, I wasn’t sure I believed it. I wasn’t sure I didn’t like being tied down and overpowered.

  “You’re not the only one who likes to protect themselves.”

  I scowled. What was that supposed to mean.

  “You made me cry. You overpowered me physically, you stole my right to talk and you hurt me,” I snapped, pulling away from him. This time he let me and I could see he was burned by my words. Good. “I had no protection in there. I couldn’t defend myself and you knew that, yet you still pushed.”

  “I had to.”

  “Sure you did. Can you show me to my room, please? I’d like to wash the rusty water from your adapted Chinese water torture out of my hair.”

  “You knew about that?”

  I rolled my eyes and turned away from him, heading for the stairs before my mind stole the chance to imagine an old metal bed in a prison cell.

  “Yes. I told you, I’m not an idiot. Whatever you might believe, I’ve got my shit together. Perhaps your multiple personalities could find theirs.” I couldn’t help but try to poison him with words. There was no way I’d overpower him physically. There was no way to show him he’d hurt me. There was no other way to keep him with me, to stop him thinking he’d beaten me, because he hadn’t. He could gag me again; he could lock me in that room and throw away the key, but I wouldn’t let him think he’d won. “Actually…” I stood firm and folded my arms. “I have a handler, don’t I? Please ask them to show me to my room.”

  “He will not be going anywhere near your room.” Elias was cold and distant, and I felt a slither of sympathy and guilt before I pushed them aside and kept my back to him. “Up the stairs, third room on the left.”

  I wanted to thank him. I wanted to turn around and tell him I didn’t hate him as much as he thought I did. I wanted us to figure this out together. I wanted to forget the dungeon existed, and do exactly what he’d asked us to do.

  I wanted to pretend, just for a second, that he was just a man and I was just a woman.

  The bedroom Elias had assigned to me was as large and grand as one would expect…one I would have expected before I’d seen what he really kept in this house. Blackwood House was an estate of mystery I wanted to explore. I wanted to know more, because I wanted to understand. I wanted to be able to rationalise what we did. I wanted to claw at anything that would redeem my family; I wanted to love my family, and they were making it impossible.

  I rounded the room, painted magnolia with golden accents. The chandelier above my head sparkled, casting iridescent glows on the ceiling and walls. The bed was huge, and in this moment, it was far more appealing than anything else. I stripped out of my clothes, hissing when I peeled the denim away from my leg, and climbed beneath the bedsheets. The white pillow sucked up the moisture from my hair and I tossed, trying in vain to rid my mind of the images I just wanted to forget. Pulling the duvet over my head, I closed my eyes and pretended I was just a girl, and not a woman who had seen a glimpse into the rabbit hole, and couldn’t find a way back out.

  “Trixie?”

  Gentle hands stroked my hair and a cool breeze danced over my cheek. I stirred, but kept my eyes closed, wanting to stay inside the dream because it was warm here. It promised me comfort from the hands I’d wanted to feel for the past week.

  “Trixie?”

  I opened my eyes when I realised the dream wouldn’t stay. I’d have to face Elias eventually—one of his personalities, at least—and I figured the quicker I did, the quicker he’d let me escape into sleep again.

  “What?” I murmured, turning away from him.

  My smarting leg and the burning ache in my thigh reminded me what had happened earlier.

  “I need to take care of you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  I pulled the duvet tighter around me and turned my back on him, to face the window outside where the sun was beginning to set.

  Kind and soft Elias had returned; the kind I’d always imagined when I thought about how a real gentleman would be. Caring, considerate and sensitive. Elias was all of those things, as I felt him shift on the bed and I resisted the urge to turn around and touch him. This Elias was the most dangerous, because he was the one who captivated me with promise. He made me believe in things his other sides refused to entertain. Everything about him was magical and mercurial, and frustrating as hell. I couldn’t decide if I really did want him, really did hate him, or if everything had collided into something I’d never had a hope of possessing.

  “You’re bleeding all over my bed.”

  My head whizzed round faster than I was anticipating as I sought out his eyes and stilled when I saw the amusement on his beautiful face. He was smiling. It was a real, albeit cautious smile. I had planned to rip into him and remind him of why I was bleeding all over his bed, but he paralysed me. He was so close I could smell him and feel the strange conflicted warmth that always surrounded me when I was near him. He was casually dressed in jeans and a cream jumper, and his hair was still damp from the shower. Like this, sitting on my bed with his hand tentatively touching my leg, he looked normal. Like a normal man who wasn’t harbouring a thousand torrid secrets. I fell for it. I willingly believed his act and turned to lie on my back.

  “Take care of me how?”

  I knew how I wanted to be taken care of. I knew what I wanted from him and no matter how many times he rejected me, or threw circumstance between us like it was reason enough to refrain, I still wanted him. I wanted him to lower his defences, throw me a rope to scale the wall and reach the other side—the real side—and I wanted h
im to be honest with me. Whatever he kept from me and however I would react, I just wanted to know. I wanted every piece of information at once so I could finally decide if it was hate that made me want him so much.

  Elias reached over the edge of the bed and placed a red box between us. One that had a thick white cross on the lid and told me my discomfort wouldn’t be over just yet.

  “You should probably take a bath.”

  “What if I want a shower?”

  “I think taking a bath would be best for your leg. Ladies shouldn’t be made to stand and bathe. You should take some time to let your muscles relax and afford your mind some conscious thought.”

  “And where will you be?”

  “Waiting right outside.”

  I tried not to be disappointed. I tried not to feel it and I tried harder not to show it. I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to reject…but he dropped the mask further than I did. He took in a sharp breath, caught his bottom lip between his teeth to give me a glimpse of perfectly sculpted teeth, and then he shifted away from me. It was the opposite effect to the one I’d wanted, but there was no disgust in his dark eyes. Only lust. For me. I sighed.

  “I’ll take a bath, your majesty.” I threw the bedcovers back and sat up, wincing when the pain in my leg decided to join the party.

  “Trixie.”

  Elias squeezed his eyes shut and reached for me as I climbed out of bed. The force of his hold and the shock of his warm hands on my body jolted me backwards and I fell to the mattress. Elias leaned over me, his nose level with mine, before he opened his eyes. I swear they were watering, like he wanted to look away but was forcing himself not to.

  “You are in my house and you will follow my rules,” he breathed, void of the anger his words should have held. “I will run your bath. And as much as I like your underwear, I’d appreciate it if you’d remained covered in my presence.”

  He stared down at me while his words sunk in, and then I drew my knees up as he climbed off the bed and padded across the room.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, cupping my cheeks to feel the blush that had burned them, with the embarrassment that made my head pulse, and the humiliation that made my skin prickle and my heart race. I pulled the sheet back over me and listened for the sound of the running bath.

  Elias hadn’t been lying when he said he’d wait outside. He’d run me a bath fit for a queen, with bubbles to my neck, lavender-infused steam that made me sleepy, and candles that created a romantic ambience to soothe my anxiety. The bath was huge, taking me in and keeping me warm for every one of the forty-five minutes I spent lying in it.

  “Elias?” I called.

  He was still here. The door opened a crack and his voice, soft yet impatient, travelled on the steam to warm me and make me shiver. The bath water held nothing on Elias’ heat.

  “How can I help?”

  “I want to talk.”

  “Now?”

  He was shocked. I hoped he would be. I wanted to catch him off guard and strike while we were both vulnerable.

  “Yes, now. Please.”

  “Okay.”

  With my back to the him, I couldn’t see him, but I heard the door open and then I heard him slide to the floor. Elias was always so confident in himself and it was a trait I both admired and wanted to crack—I wanted him to feel everything I did, even though he’d been trained to shut it all out.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  More to myself. I had no idea what I wanted to talk to him about; I just wanted him in the room with me. I wanted to be able to feel him close by, and I prayed what he did to my body would help me focus here.

  “Ready,” he answered after a beat. “Although I’m not sure why we’re doing this here. You’ll catch a cold.”

  “I’m sure you’ve picked up a hundred different remedies during your history lessons.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Ah,” I sighed. “You can take it. I think you might even enjoy it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Liar.”

  “Trixie, before you waltzed into my life in your little black dress, maid’s apron and spouted your philosophy on the greatest artist of our time, my life was perfect. I had the silence, discipline and routine I crave. You’ve ruined every second of that, so tell me, why would I enjoy it?”

  Rejection. Again. I never insulted him. I played with him and antagonised the beast that I knew lay just beneath the service, but I never insulted him. And I wouldn’t let him get to me this time. He’d given me a way in, unknowingly, and I would take it.

  “Would we be here if I didn’t shake up your oh so perfect life?”

  “No.”

  “Then that’s why you enjoy it.”

  “What do you want to talk about, Miss Ashford?”

  “Stop with the Miss Ashford stuff, like it intimidates me, or reminds me I’m supposed to be a lady. I’m not scared of you, and I’m choosing to do this living thing my way. I won't let you dictate how I’m supposed to use my new-found status.”

  “You’re very confident this evening.”

  “Dungeons can do that to a girl.”

  What? No. That answer implied that I’d enjoyed the dungeon; that I’d enjoyed the feather as it ghosted over my sensitive skin. It implied that the water wasn’t as bad as he’d hoped it would be—that it actually gave some relief to my burning skin. It implied that the cuts had shocked me, but only with excitement and anticipation.

  That wasn’t true.

  Elias sounded amused, like he’d taken every one of my inferences and had constructed an entirely different story with them.

  “Get to the point, Trixie.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Always with the bossy. I see why you took the bank and not the tech job.”

  “What?” he growled. He was growling at me, and I felt tension. For the first time since I’d met him, Elias didn’t seem so in control. “What did you say?”

  “You chose the bank. You could have gone into technology development, but you chose to take control of the bank. I understand why now.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “William.” I shrugged. William was part of the story. I was allowed and had a right to know whatever he told me. “He mentioned that he was the managing director of the bank. When I asked who he worked with, he told me he worked with you. Hence the name Blackwood International.

  Elias said nothing. I jumped when a fluffy white towel flew past me and landed on the counter next to the bath.

  “Get out.”

  “I’m not done.”

  “The water is cold, dinner is almost ready and I need to fix your leg.”

  “But I’m not done talking.”

  “It seems that you know more than I was aware of.”

  “I know what you do for a living. That’s hardly limitless knowledge.”

  “What do you want to know?” he yelled, coming into view to stand next to the bath and loom over me. He shoved his hands in his pockets and I made out the tight fists wrapped in denim. His eyes were blazing and I saw nothing but anger when I looked at him.

  “I just wanted to know why you chose the method you did today. I wanted to talk about the normal girl and the normal boy doing something that wasn’t so normal.” I looked away from him and sat up, drawing my knees up to my chest. “I just wanted to understand when I felt safe.”

  “Don’t play the submissive victim now. You wanted a reaction and you’ve got one.” He took a step back, but there was still no softness in him. I wanted that Elias back. This one scared me; I knew he liked to play with water and I didn’t trust him not to drown me in the tub. “I used the feather because I wanted to get your attention. I wanted you expect gentle and then slam intensity into you. I used water because it’s torture. Because it would drive you insane and you have to be insane to survive this. I cut your jeans because I imagined cutting into your supple flesh. I chained you up because I wanted you at my mercy. I wanted to strip you of the rights you take for granted. I want
ed to show you that you have no control here—that you’re mine until I’ve had enough.” He turned away from me to face the door. I could see from my side-on view of him that he’d meant every word. His body was poised to attack, his mind firmly locked and, if he had a heart, he was protecting it with everything he had. “Now get out of the bath. I’ll wait outside the bedroom.”

  He left the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, all gentlemanly composure gone. I swear I could still hear him growling as I climbed out of the bath, wrapped the towel around me haphazardly around me, and chased after him.

  “No!” He stopped with his hand on the bedroom door, head bowed. “If I no longer have the right to walk away, then neither do you.”

  “Leave it, Trixie.”

  “No. Part of me wants to get dressed and leave this estate. Part of me wants to walk away from me, no matter what the consequences are, and you know I can do it.”

  “What’s your point?”

  He still wasn’t looking at me. I approached him slowly, placed my hand on his arm and encouraged him to turn around.

  “My point is I’m here. I’m fucking terrified.”

  “Language-” he snapped. I had to remember not to swear. Not right now.

  “Sorry. I’m terrified, but I’m here. Stop cutting me off when I’m trying to understand. What you said in there wasn’t true. Maybe it was, but there’s more to it than that.”

  “Is there?”

  He was cold and unwelcoming, but his eyes sparkled like two onyxes and demanded admiration. He was trying to resist, I knew that; but I also knew he was close to breaking and I had to be both cautious and confident. I needed to do this, for him as well as for me.

  “Yes. I think you wanted to stop me from running because you’re afraid of losing me.” He took a sharp breath, but said nothing, blinking once as if asking me to continue. “I think you used the feather because the soft side of you wanted to break me in gently. I think a part of you wanted to pretend we weren’t where we were, and you weren’t about to introduce me to the Sector.” Still nothing. He still gave me nothing, and my bravery began to waver. “I think you used water because it wouldn’t cause any real damage. I wasn’t going to go crazy and give into you after ten minutes of wetness. I think you cut my jeans because you wanted to. I think it was as simple as that. You weren’t touching me, but you could pretend you were. You could open me up and pretend it symbolised punishment, but really it was just pleasure.” He released a slow breath and drew in another. “I think you asked me to trust in GRIT because you want me to trust in you. I think you want me to fight you. I think you want me to rebel and refuse. I haven’t figured out why and I’m done trying to read you, but for whatever reason, the routine you think you love so much isn’t doing it for you anymore.”