“I’m aware.” Elijah’s voice was short, but he seemed to wrangle it into something more polite. “It was … interesting to meet you, Guardian.”
“Take care of her.” Alpha voice. Maya’s voice.
“Can I say bye?” Luis whispered.
“Another time, grasshopper,” Maya soothed him. “We need to give them a moment. Come on.”
As soon as the door closed, Elijah moved to a bench, yanking it away from the wall so that she wouldn’t have to unwind her legs from around his waist. He sat, his hands catching her face and lifting it from its hiding spot against the warm security of his neck, where her sorrow unfurled in thoughts of woodsmoke.
“Are you going to pass out?” he asked. His face was blurry, but she was pretty sure a heavy frown weighed down his lips.
“No.” She grimaced. “I just took it really fast, and it was … he’s so …”
“He’s a child dreaming of his entire family being murdered,” Elijah supplied dryly. “I’m sure he’s thoroughly traumatised. You taking away the emotion won’t even touch that trauma.”
“Stop it.” She swatted weakly at his chest. “S’my power,” she slurred. “I do what I want with it.”
His lips seemed to quirk, his thumbs rubbing at the drying tears on her cheeks. “I’ve only seen you cry once. The day you died.”
“Which time?” She tried to bury her face in his neck again, to draw that powerful scent back into her lungs, but he held her face firmly.
“You’re so strong,” he said quietly, those cold eyes boring into hers. “But you’re not unbreakable. Stop pushing your luck.”
“I heard about what you do,” she blurted, feeling embarrassed by his scrutiny as her vision began to clear, Luis’ emotion finally finding space inside her to settle properly. “I heard you like to humiliate people.”
Elijah’s grip loosened, falling to her waist. The edge of his mouth twitched even further until it was half a smile. “Really?”
“I thought you hated bullies.”
“I do.”
“Then why?”
His regarded her flatly. “Why what, Carter?”
“Why do you like to degrade people?”
“Did you ‘hear’ that I like to degrade people, or did you ‘hear’ that it was something I did? Because there’s a difference between doing something and liking it.”
“Why do it if you don’t like it?”
“Now that’s a better question … but I never said I didn’t like it.”
Isobel groaned, swatting his chest again. “You’re—”
He caught her wrist, and then her other, twisting both of her arms behind her back, and then he straightened his posture, using his grip on her arms to press her chest against his. She had to tip her head right back to still meet his eyes.
“I like to be in control,” he explained in a whisper. “But the fetish room isn’t about what I like. It’s about what people want to see. What they would pay to see. And they love to see other people begging to be reduced to vessels for whatever we want to do with them.”
“What do you do with them?”
“You’re very curious today. Why?”
She shrugged—as much as she could with her arms twisted the way they were. “Just wondering.”
“Well …” He transferred both of her wrists to one of his hands, using the other to grip her hip and draw her closer. “I wouldn’t worry, sweet girl. You’re going to love what Kalen does. And when he does it to you, it’ll be a nice experience.”
When, not if.
“How do you know that?”
His cold gaze was crawling over her face, categorising the drying tears on her skin. She could still feel the wetness clumping her eyelashes together.
“Because of what happened last night with Gabriel,” he finally admitted. “You aren’t that close with him, but you still let him tell you how to touch yourself, didn’t you?” He continued before she even had a chance to respond. “And not because of the bond.” He tugged her even closer, ducking his head to whisper the words against her cheek. “It was because he offered to take it all away for a moment. The stress, the decisions, the danger. He was completely in control, and you trusted him enough to know that he would keep you safe if you gave it all up. He would take care of you and make you feel good, and you didn’t need to give anything in return except your sweet submission.”
She suddenly felt restless, her breath coming in short gasps, her entire existence narrowing to the way her legs were still locked around his waist, her arms twisted behind her back, one of his hands tight on the curve of her waist. She was straining toward him, her wrists stuck together obediently even though she might have been able to get them free if she surprised him with the effort. She was happy for him to position her however he wanted … because she felt safe with him.
But he was wrong that it had nothing to do with the bond.
It was his scent convincing her to trust him, and she could only smell him because of the bond … though she supposed that didn’t mean his scent was a lie. Alphas could scent everyone around them, and that didn’t make them trust everyone around them. Heck, they didn’t trust anyone.
Did she trust Elijah?
She wasn’t sure.
“Interesting,” he muttered. He had pulled back, examining her face as she remained silent. “You think I’m manipulating you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” He released her wrists, his hands lightly squeezing her arms as he lifted her, standing and setting her back on her feet. “Don’t take it personally. I find it easier to deal with people this way.”
“Why don’t you just say what you really mean?”
He smirked, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as a short chuckle fell out of him. “Okay, Carter. I think your innocence is liberating … in a way I didn’t quite expect. I think your asshole of a father didn’t prepare you for the more … well let’s just say social aspects of Ironside, because he doesn’t really see you as a person, does he? And your mother—”
“Careful,” she hissed, stepping into his personal space, her eyes narrowing into slits as she stared up at him.
For some reason, that smirk broke out over his face again. “Your mother,” he continued, ignoring her warning, “was likely traumatised by her own social experiences, and preparing you for something she would never have wished for you wasn’t high on her list of priorities, I’m guessing.”
“When you say social—”
“I’m talking about sex and romantic relationships, yes.”
“Right.”
“You’ve grown up with a very twisted notion of romance playing out right in front of you, with Ironside influencing your ideals every other night, and Hollywood adding in a sprinkle of uncertainty on the side. Which version do you believe? The environment that created your father? The relationship he has with your mother before your own eyes, or the movies he acts in? You’re remarkably good at holding all those twisted influences inside you while you let go and just feel, and I believe that makes you incredibly dangerous to us. It’s beautiful, and there’s no room in our world for sweet, beautiful things.”