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Elijah had always been a little bit of an enigma to me. He was perfectly put together and looked like he belonged in a suit and tie, but had a messy dorm room covered in rock band paraphernalia. He could sing and play guitar like a god, but apparently he hardly ever did it anymore. He was quiet and almost withdrawn sometimes, but the ink on his back practically screamed with raw emotion. It was almost like he was two people trapped inside one body, and I had a feeling that the still waters of his calm, classic features ran very deep.
He’d been an asshole to me in the fall, just like the rest of the Princes, but there’d always been a little less bite to his taunts, a little less brutality to his treatment of me. Maybe that was why I felt the most comfortable with him out of all the four boys—the safest. When they’d dropped the bullying and inducted me into their “Royals club” at the beginning of the year, Elijah hadn’t had to do such a sharp one-eighty as some of the others had.
Cupping the side of my face gingerly, careful to avoid the bruise blossoming on my cheek, he let out a long breath.
“I’m sorry, Talia. I never meant for this to happen. It’s fucked up.”
My gaze was locked on his, drawn in by the tenderness and regret in his hazel irises. The boy in front of me was so far removed from the one who used to taunt me and stare me down as I walked by.
The boy in front of me cared.
“It’s okay, Elijah,” I whispered. “It’s not your fault.”
He didn’t seem to want to hear that though. He just shook his head, his thumb rubbing softly against my skin, as if he were trying to reassure himself that I was real. That I was still here, whole and intact.
A dozen emotions danced across his face, tightening his features. Something was churning under the still waters of his soul, and I could feel it bubbling up inside him.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before, Tal,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t be this good. After everything we did, you should hate us all.”
“I don’t.” I shrugged, because maybe he was right, and maybe it spoke to something entirely fucked up in my own
makeup, but a part of me had been drawn to the Princes even when they’d been cruel to me—had recognized them as fellow broken souls. “I can’t.”
His grip on my face stiffened slightly, and he swallowed hard.
Then he leaned in and kissed me.
I sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his lips on mine. Like the beginning of our kiss at the lake house, this was slow and soft, lips just barely brushing, tongues slipping out tentatively to taste each other.
His hands ran through my hair, gripping it gently, tugging on it, and even though it hurt to move my face, the pain felt worth it for this moment. The sick feeling that’d been camped out in my stomach since Adena and her minions had attacked me died, leaving behind nothing but a pleasant warmth.
I felt safe now.
Safer than I’d ever been in my life.
We fell into the kiss like we’d been born to kiss each other, like peace and salvation could be found only in the connection between our lips. The need inside me built soft and steady, not a tsunami this time, but waves of pleasure lapping gently through me.
It didn’t block out the lingering pain from where Adena had hit me, but it counterbalanced it, the throbbing ache only highlighting the good feelings, as if this kiss was my reward for walking through fire.
Elijah’s phone buzzed, the sound puncturing the little bubble we’d slipped into.
At first, neither of us reacted, but when it buzzed again, he pulled back slightly, staring into my eyes before tugging his cell from his pocket with one hand. The other stayed on me, gently stroking through my hair as he read the incoming text.
“It’s Mason. I texted them all to tell them what happened. They’re coming up.”
Two seconds after he made that pronouncement, a loud banging sounded on my door.
“Or maybe they already are up,” I offered with a dry laugh.
He made a face and stood, finally disentangling his hand from my hair. Then he bent to press one more small kiss to my lips before he crossed the room to let them in.
Overwhelmed and feeling almost high from our kiss, I leaned back on the couch as the door burst open.
“Where the fuck is she?” Mason snarled.
“You mean Tal? She’s right there.” Elijah gestured to me. Then he grunted. “Adena? I have no idea.”
Mason’s sharp emerald gaze landed on me, and he reached the couch in a few long strides. Cole and Finn were only a half-second behind him, and they all gathered in front of me, shoulder to shoulder, staring down with intense expressions.
