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I push my seat back and excuse myself from the table. I need to put some distance between myself and my sordid situation so I can catch my breath before the gravity of everything suffocates me.
The moment the bathroom door comes into view, my entire body shakes with the force of the emotions pouring over me. Everything I’ve held inside, hidden away, since the moment I woke up and realized I had been torn from my life rises to the surface and a loud sob breaks from my throat.
By the time I’m within reach of the sink, all the air has left my lungs and it’s impossible to drag in a breath past the blinding panic ravaging my body. I may have been playing my situation off as a minor annoyance, but suddenly it’s anything but minor. Elijah Russo holds my entire future in his cruel, scarred hands.
The door swings open behind me, but I don’t bother to look up. If it’s Wynter or Emerson, I’ll have to lie through blinding panic, and if it’s a stranger, I’ll probably be on the front page of the tabloids tomorrow morning for my public meltdown. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Arms wrap around my middle, and I’m tugged back against a hard body. The way Elijah moves can’t be described as anything other than elegantly stealthy. He moves with silent grace like a cat in the night, and perhaps I should have known it was him before he ever touched me.
“Breathe, Snowflake,” he murmurs into my ear. “I need you to breathe.”
I shake my head, broken sobs break from my chest, leaving agony in their wake. People say when they die, they see their lives flash before their eyes, but what about when you’re living a life you don’t want to live? If Elijah is going to tear me from my family and force me into a life I never wanted, is that fate any kinder than death?
“Snow.” The command in his voice has my eyes meeting his in the mirror.
The two of us are a perfect contradiction. I’m petite and broken, all blonde hair and pale skin, and Elijah is muscular, tattooed from head to toe as far as I can tell, and he exudes nothing but confidence and raw power.
“You’re going to make yourself sick, and you know how I feel about anything harming you, including yourself. So I need you to breathe for me.”
For some reason, staring into his green eyes in the mirror makes it easier to drag in a breath, and then another, and another after that. His calm but ruthless demeanor captures my attention and holds it hostage while my body fights off the panic.
“That’s it, good girl,” Elijah praises and my heart skips a beat. Being praised by him is unexpected, but I welcome it.
I reach for the paper towel dispenser, my face a mess of black tear stains, but he’s faster. His body barely leaves mine for a second before he’s back and spinning me to face him. Elijah dabs the course towel on my hot cheeks, wiping away the evidence of my meltdown. He stares down at me thoughtfully, but he doesn’t say a word as he cleans my face.
There’s something inherently intimate about the moment, maybe because you wouldn’t expect someone as ruthless and cold as Elijah Russo to be able to be so gentle, or maybe it’s having him so close without wanting to scream in his face. For the first time since I realized who had taken me, all the anger and resentment has faded, and all that’s left behind is hopelessness.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Snowflake? You were so happy when Wynter and Everett shared their news, and then something changed.” A man like Elijah shouldn’t be so observant. Something tells me I’m never going to be able to hide anything from him, and that’s definitely not a good thing.
“Please don’t keep me away from them,” I choke out. “Please don’t take them away from me. I don’t want to miss Wynter’s wedding, and I want to be a part of my niece’s or nephew’s life. Please don’t take them away.” Fresh tears fall against my cheeks as I beg the man I swore I would never allow to see me break.
Elijah wraps me up in his arms and holds me tight, not a breath of space between us as he rubs my bare back comfortingly. Idly, I wonder if he’s ever comforted anyone else in the past, or if this rare moment of compassion is just for me, and I find myself hoping it’s the latter.
“Shh, little Snowflake,” he whispers into my hair. “You know the deal. If you’re good for me, if you don’t try to run, then you’ll have anything you want. If you want to see Wynter and the baby every day, then that’s what you’ll do.”
He thinks his words are comforting, but they’re anything but. The man is giving me an ultimatum. Either I do as I’m told and hand myself over to him, or he takes it by force along with everything I love. That’s not a choice because he knows there’s only one option that I’ll take. There’s a reason Storm doesn’t date, and Rayne didn’t until Emerson came along. Having loved ones is a liability, and my family is mine.
20
Elijah
I’ve watched Snow cry so many times I’ve lost count. When her parents told her she couldn’t go to Mexico for spring break with her friends, she cried. When boys broke her heart in high school, she cried. And when her parents died, she cried for days on end. Her tears have always been fascinating to me, and at times I’ve imagined them rolling down her cheeks as I fuck her pretty lips. But there’s something about holding her as she sobs and being the reason for her tears that makes the cold, dead place where my heart should live hurt.
I’ve never given much thought to other people and their emotions, the concept of which never resonated with me, but holding Snow right now, her broken sobs vibrating through our bodies as she begs me not to tear her away from the people she loves, an unfamiliar feeling washes over me. Guilt.
Carefully, I grasp her shoulders and push her back just enough so I can look at her. Dark smudges under her eyes and black streaks down her cheeks make it obvious she’s been crying.
Snow looks up at me through soft blue eyes, the plea in them not lost on me. I’m not one to bend for anyone, not even my own family. I was born to lead, born to kill, and born to take what I want when I want it. But right now, looking down at my woman, I want to bow down and give her the whole fucking world.
“Marry me.” The words fall from my lips before I can think them through. I never intended to ask her, never intended to give her a choice, and therefore, why would I bother asking the question?
“What?”
“Marry me. Marry me, and I won’t ever keep you from your family.”
Her mouth drops open and anger fills the normally calm blue, a storm raging behind them. “It’s not really a choice then, is it?” she hisses, bringing both hands to my chest and shoving me away. When my body gives her a whisper of space, she slips from my arms and moves to the paper towel dispenser before stepping up to the mirror and dabbing at the dark marks beneath her eyes.
“You’re asking me to give you something, so I’m asking for something in return.” I shrug, keeping my distance from her for the moment. What she doesn’t realize is that I don’t compromise. When I decide something, I don’t back down from it. What I’m offering her is a rare moment of compassion… well, my version of it anyway.
