Page 49

“No.” He glares at me. Already refusing what I’m about to say.

“I cannot do this.” Stop giving him hope.

He thinks he’s looking at a human but I’m a mere shell of life. I have nothing I could call my own but these scars, even my memories don’t belong to me.

“Elara.”

“You cannot do this, you cannot barge into my life and decide for me. Kidnap me.” I lie. I wanted it, everything that happened, the kidnapping, the sleeping in his huge, comforting arms, the kissing, the grinding.

Every. Bloody. Thing.

Silence and then. “I absolutely can, Elara.” He nods once, “I wanted you here, and here you are. I’m not letting you go.” If he wanted to walk towards me, he didn’t and I was grateful. Anymore of him and I’ll fall to ruins.

“Why?”

“Because I say so.”

I’m rendered rather speechless. I open my mouth once and twice and close it, having nothing to say to that.

Why is his attention on me when girls like Alina are ready to throw themselves at him?

I’m basic, and deranged and borderline suicidal. Okay, fine, not borderline. Entirely suicidal.

“Why, Sergei?” I press. “Fuck it. I’m leaving.”

Coming to this University suddenly seemed like a failure.

Was I better at home?

“You’re not leaving.” His smirk is all arrogance, all certainty. “You know why?” He closes the distance between us, each step accompanied by a word. “Because you like being told what to do.”

Stopping right in front of me, close enough to make me tilt my head back as he stares down at me.

“You’d rather keep your body busy,” he murmurs, his voice low as he extends his hand, “than be alone with what’s in your head.” His fingers twirls around a strand of my hair.

“You’re always escaping, always hiding, always avoiding.” He leans down slightly, his forehead too close to mine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What are you hiding from, mhmm?” He stares into my eyes keenly as if wanting to open a window to my soul.

“N-nothing.”

“What are you afraid of, malyshka?”

I gulp and his eyes track the movement.

“So, you’ll keep on hiding until I fuck the silence out of you?” He all but growls, his gaze darkening.

“You’re not fucking me—”

“I am not just fucking you, Elara.” He corrects. “I want to own your every thought, your desires, your fears.” He bends and licks my cheek again like he did earlier.

Like he’s claiming me.

I almost let out a panicked whimper, my breath heavy from how easily he can read me.

I don’t want him to know me. The real me.