I nodded once and reached for my tea, ending the conversation because she was staff. I liked her and I wanted her to assist me instead of having to deal with the Blackwood men, but I had to respect Elias’ lines and remain professional with the people he’d hired. Lola nodded in return and left the bathroom.
When I’d managed to pull myself out of the bath and padded to the bedroom, I noticed the room had been set up perfectly. A green satin dress was laid out on the bed, a silver pair of stilettos on the floor beside it, and two small vanity cases sat next to the dress.
There was a quiet knock on the door and I grabbed my robe off the hook on the wardrobe, pulling it on before I answered.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Lola said, dipping her head and extending a large flat box towards me. “Mr Blackwood asked that I bring you this.”
“What is it?”
She smiled, but shook her head. She knew, but she couldn’t tell me. Or she’d made an educated guess. Or, like one of the typical men I’d seen in American soap operas, he’d left a label somewhere.
“Thank you.”
I took the box from her and closed the door, diving into my gift before she could have even walked away. I tore at the ribbon and shredded the tissue paper to reveal the only thing that had been missing from the bed. Underwear. Really expensive underwear, and not the kind that was brought into the city anymore. I’d seen pictures of it in magazines from Italy and I’d always wanted to wear something like this. Elias knew me. Despite only knowing each other for a week—if it had been that long, it felt like there was no time before him—he knew what I’d like and he’d chosen something that would make me feel beautiful. The ensemble was entirely black; a sheer bra and matching bottoms; a suspender belt and gossamer stockings that made my legs feel like silk when I eased them on.
Elias was spoiling me. I had no idea if it was genuine, out of guilt, or whether he intended to play me with another one of his games.
When I was dressed for wherever Elias was going to take me, I stood in the bedroom and wondered what to do next. He hadn’t told me where to meet him or what time, or what to do when I was ready. I didn’t want to sit in the bedroom, another prison within a prison within a prison, so grabbing the shawl that had been delivered with the dress, I filled my champagne glass and left the room, crossing the hallway and making my way downstairs. I didn’t want to go outside. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to go outside when it was safe. My legs still smarted enough to make my steps unsteady, the skin on my ankles still too raw to allow me to wear the shoes Elias had sent, so I padded across the foyer barefoot, deeper into the house, unaware of what awaited me.
Darkness. Dark shadowed corridors inhabited by secrets. There were multiple rooms, all of them locked and I assumed—hoped—they were offices or pantries, or bathrooms that didn’t need to be used when the house was as good as empty. I continued along the hallway, the distance between the doors growing as the rooms became larger, but still I couldn’t gain access. I couldn’t get into any rooms. When I came to an intersection, more closed doors to my right, or a set of double doors at the end of the corridor to my left, I let my feet decide.
I didn’t expect the doors to open; I was shocked when I twisted the handles and they both creaked as they granted me entry. I stepped inside the room, lit with the flickers of a hundred candles, picture frames of portraits and photos hanging from floor to ceiling on one wall. Placing my glass on top of a grand piano in the centre of the room, I looked around. The ceiling was high, painted with a mural depicting death and war. I could see women within the image, as I narrowed my eyes and tried to focus in the dim light. Men fought on black horses, swords brandished, guns pointed, stakes and torches at the ready as grey, emaciated demons cowered in a fiery pit. The women watched on, sheathed in white dresses that flowed outwards like the clouds of Heaven. Each of them pointed to the pit, each one with a menacing smile painted on their faces, but their beauty was striking, even in the light that didn’t expose much detail. Their eyes were light, rimmed with dark makeup that matched mine. Their lips were a vivid red, some smeared to match the bloodstains on their warriors’ cheeks, some perfectly applied and undisturbed. They wore jewels; gold chains and purple gems, like Ruby wore. I knew this was a depiction of the beginning of GRIT. I knew this artwork showed who the real leaders were.
Women.
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?”
I jumped when a strange voice seeped over my skin, and stumbled when I dropped my gaze too quickly, dizzy from staring at the ceiling for so long. Ambrose Blackwood’s hand came out and gripped my wrist to keep me steady. I shuddered and recoiled; his touch wasn’t friendly or protective. It was angry and assuming. When I was steady on my feet again, he let me go and I took a cautious step back.
“It is. I thought women were banned from going to war.”
“They were, but GRIT women are no ordinary women, Miss Ashford.”
“I can see that.” I wrapped my shawl around me and folded my arms over my stomach. “I’m sorry I intruded. Elias asked me to meet him but he didn’t give me a time or a place.”
“He’s been distracted lately.” Ambrose crossed the room to a console in the corner, retrieving a bottle of something golden, and two glasses. “He’s always been rigid and reliable.”
“He was in a rush. He said he had to go somewhere, so I assumed his mind was on whatever he had to do.”
“Elias rarely leaves things to the point where he has to rush.” He poured the drink into the glasses, turning to me and handing me one. I took it without argument. “He had to go to work, but he should be doing that every day.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, realising Elias was in trouble and it was my fault.
“What for?” He reached out and pressed two fingers to the bottom of my glass, guiding it to my lips.
“I’m not sure.” I accepted the drink when he tipped the glass. The burn was strangely reassuring. It caught my breath, but it wasn’t disgusting…or maybe I was too afraid to really taste it.
“Are you sorry for charming my son into breaking the rules he’s been set?” he asked. I took another mouthful of drink, willingly, to calm my nerves, and looked around to see the doors had been closed. “Are you sorry for threatening his position as leader?” I shook my head. “Are you sorry that you’re going to break his heart and lead to the destruction of this family?”
I shook my head again. “I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t hurt him.”
“Not even for the sake of a Tate?”
What was he getting at and what did William Tate have to do with this? Nothing. He had nothing to do with it. I’d chosen Elias and William was a friend.
“Not even for a Tate.”
“Interesting.”
Elias said that, too. When he didn’t believe something he was being told. It was his way of professing to be correct, but not allowing you to argue your case.
“William Tate is my friend. Ruby asked him to spend the day with me and that is the only reason we’ve spent time together. William is irrelevant here.”
“You’re feisty, aren’t you?”
“I won't let you put thoughts in my head.” I stood tall, as tall as I could against a man who held six inches of height over me. “I won't let you manipulate me. Whatever woman broke whichever Eli’s heart, I’m not her.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, cocking a brow a taking a step towards me. I stepped back. “You think you’ve learnt enough about us to tell me how it works?”
“No,” I stuttered, feeling humiliated. Of course I held nothing against his knowledge. “I’m sorry. I just know myself.”
Ambrose took another step, lunging for my neck and slamming me against the door with his hand around my throat. I sucked in a sharp strangled breath and the glass shattered on the floor as I dropped it and clawed at his forearms.
“I want you to shut up and let my son teach you what you need to know. Then I want you out of my house.” His anger sent
a spray of spit to coat my face as I fought for breath. “I want you to walk away and, whatever the consequences, I want you to stay away. You’re not welcome here and I’m not letting you ruin everything I’ve worked hard to create.”
“Please,” I choked, and spluttered, the dark fog moving into the outside of my eyes and closing in. “Please.”
“You think you can charm him with a tight cunt and faked obedience.” He laughed. “You have no idea of my son’s tastes and believe me, you won't be enough for long. Protect yourself and get out.”
I tried to suck in enough oxygen just to beg him again, when the door flew open and Ambrose tore his hand from me. I fell to the floor on my knees, coughing and clutching my neck to soothee the burn.
“What are you doing?”
Elias was here. He’d arrived just in time. He wanted things I couldn’t give him. He’d worked too hard to fall in love with an Ashford. I’d bore him eventually and it would be me left out in the cold. I was the one at risk. Maybe Ambrose was right.
“Dad?”
“I was just teaching the Ashford a lesson, son.”
“Don’t touch her. Don’t talk to her, don’t think about her, don’t even acknowledge her existence.”
“I think you’re forgetting your place.”
“No!” I shuddered. It was the first time I’d heard anger in Elias’ voice that sounded equally afraid and pained. “I think you’re forgetting your place, Father. You are no longer in power here and so help me God, if you don’t stick to what you’ve been tasked to do, you’ll be the next one being dragged away by the horses and fed to the pigs.”
Pigs? Fed to the pigs? Little pink piggies who made perfect crispy bacon sandwiches.
“Pigs?” I stuttered.
I looked up as two sets of Blackwood eyes fixed on me.
“Way to go, boss,” Ambrose spat. “I’ll expect you in the Sector tonight.”
“No,” Elias said, shooting me an apologetic look before turning back to his father. “I’ve let you continue this because I thought I was still in training. Now I know you’re doing it to get your kicks, you can no longer punish me. You can leave now and wait for me to summon you to the Sector.”
Ambrose Blackwood’s blue eyes almost turned red as the flickering flames around us burst up as if in reaction to the shift in Elias. I didn’t know if it was in celebration, or in warning, and I didn’t believe in ghosts and ghouls and things that went bump in the night, but the atmosphere was electric. Two alphas, two leaders, two kings facing off. One was supposed to respect the other out of duty, the other out of love, but respect was not present here. Only hate, resentment and fear.
“Enjoy your evening, Miss Ashford.”
Ambrose winked at Elias and bumped his shoulder as he passed him, stepping over me before exiting the room.
“Are you okay?” Elias asked, falling to his knees beside me and taking my face in his hands.
“You need to tell me everything,” I said, the tears threatening to fall again. “I need to know everything.”
He nodded, finally agreeing to just let me in, and then he rose to his feet and helped me to mine.
“We’re getting out of the estate for the night,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist and leading me out of the room. “I’m sorry he did that to you, I am, but I’m not letting him ruin this for us.”
Thank God. I thought it would be over. I thought I’d be dragged to a classroom, told whatever it was I needed to be told and then exiled for whatever it was Ambrose thought I’d done. Elias wasn’t going to banish me. Not yet, at least.
I’d never imagined the thought of leaving the confines of safety would excite me to the point where pain evaporated, worry disintegrated, and happiness moved in to numb the fear.
“Trixie, this is Percy,” Elias said as a tall, gangly man in a penguin suit with a flat cap and leather driving gloves, opened the back door for us. “Percy, this is Miss Ashford.”
Percy tipped his hat and I smiled in greeting. No words were exchanged as Elias quickly ushered me into the car and followed after me, nudging me to the other seat. His hand sought out mine immediately and as Percy slid into the driver’s seat and pulled away, I looked at Elias. His chest was heaving, his neck thumping with adrenaline and an impossibly fast heartrate.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said, his fingers flexing against the back of my hand to tighten his hold. “It just frightened me.”
“It did?”
He nodded. “My father is a dangerous man. He isn’t a bad man, but he’s dangerous. Like I adopted many Eli’s my father has been raised to mirror a number of different men.” He sighed, running his free hand through his hair. “I know how to deal with him, but you—you should never have to be alone with him.”
“Was what he said true?”
“I don’t know what he said.”
“He said I’m making you break the rules you live by. He said I’m threatening your position.” I rubbed at my chest as the panic set in and the reminder of Ambrose’s hand around my neck, squeezing me until unconsciousness threatened reared in to burn my eyes. “He wants me out of the house, away from you, away from the family. He told me to leave and face the consequences.” My voice trailed off and a single tear ran down my cheek as I whispered, “He said I have no idea what you like and you’ll get bored of me eventually. I’m not enough for you.”
Silence greeted me—silence and the raspy growls that left Elias every time he exhaled. I turned to look at him—really look at him. He was dressed in a black suit, with a black shirt and a black tie. It was all so very black, and it was frightening. He wore a day of stubble like no man ever had; I wanted to lick it, stroke my hand over it, and feel it scrape the skin between my legs. His eyes were filled with fear; whatever he’d agreed to tell me, he didn’t want to. He wasn’t ready to let me in as far as Ambrose had led me to demand. His chest still heaved with anger, he still shook as the adrenaline lingered in his system, and he kept his eyes on the road ahead.
“Her name was Tallulah,” he said, in a voice so quiet I wasn’t sure if he knew he was speaking out loud. “She was the second Eli’s wife.”
“What did she do?”
“She broke him.” He took a shaky breath as if breaking himself, feeling everything Eli had felt. “She turned him from a strong, noble man, into one on the path of vengeance. One who had given up on life and no longer cared if he lived or died holding on to the pain she’d caused.”
“What did she do?”
“She drank. She was a really heavy drinker, and it turned her into a monster. She was a whore…she was easy and manipulative and, as long as she was full up in every way possible, she was happy. Eli was just one man, and he couldn’t give her what she needed to be satisfied.”
“What did she do?”
“She went for three.”
“One for each hole.”
“Yes.” Elias shifted and I glanced at his lap. He was aroused. “There was a night in the barn—the night she confessed to. The result was the conception of a child. Eli was ecstatic. He wanted nothing more than a family with the woman he loved.”
“What happened?”
I was locked into the story, feeling my heart break for Eli as Elias struggled to keep it together. He knew why Ambrose had threatened me with what he did, and he was afraid of suffering the same fate as his ancestor.
“One night she’d had too much to drink. It wasn’t a rarity, but it was that night she decided to tell him the child wasn’t his. She didn’t know whose it was, which is what broke him. His wife hadn’t just been unfaithful, she’d given everything he owned to three men who used her, abused her—at her will—and any one of them could have been the one who’d given her a child. The child he wanted. The child he would never have.”
“Elias…”
“He killed her. He wasn’t brutal or punishing. He smothered her with his pillow while she slept. He killed them too. They suffered. They were tort
ured, killed slowly, and decapitated. An easy woman could be dealt with quickly and he was conscious of the unborn child. He wanted it to find peace. But the men…they deserved everything they got.”
“They did,” I agreed, nodding my head. “Elias, I’m not going to do that to you.”
He nodded too, but he didn’t believe me. I had to give him a minute, to return from Eli to Elias. He had to believe I wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t in me; it wasn’t what I wanted or needed, and I didn’t want or need anyone but him.
“Where are we going?” I asked, changing the subject. Avoiding the subject to return to later, because I would make him believe me.
“For dinner. There’s a place downtown I like to go to, so I’m taking you there.”
“Does it have anything to do with your other…tastes?” When Elias’ head whipped to the side, his eyes wide, nostrils flared, I cowered. “Dinner sounds lovely. I didn’t think there were restaurants in the city anymore.”
“There’s everything here,” he said, his eyes returning to the road ahead. “It depends who you know, what you’re afraid of, and how well you can protect yourself.”
I swallowed hard. I was terrified.
Eli Blackwood had been a stupid man. Sure, Tallulah broke him, but he had every right to divorce the slut and get out. It had always been the story that irked me; the man who passed heartbreak and the fear of betrayal onto his ancestors. I’d read romance novels, I’d watched movies; people got over heartbreak all the time. Why did I have to carry it around with me like a poison? Like a toxin waiting to leak into my bloodstream? I’d never felt love, so why did I have to know what it felt like to have a broken heart? It had never made sense to me, and it never would.
It confused me. I believed Trixie would break my heart, because history had a way of repeating itself…but I believed she loved me—in whatever way she could—and I wanted to believe she wouldn’t break me. Because I’d break her first. Trixie had the potential to be a whore. I knew she wanted to fuck Tate and she fucked me like she needed it to breathe. I could imagine her being ravished by three men, and it killed me. It also aroused me. And it made me so damn angry I wanted to snap someone’s neck. I couldn’t figure out what I believed as the eras and centuries waged war on my mind, and now I had a headache. Tonight was supposed to be perfect. I had planned to warn Trixie what could happen if she really decided to do this with me, but Ambrose had gotten there first and now I had no choice but to reveal everything.
Elias (GRIT Sector 1) Page 27