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Then, there's nothing.
* * *
Stephan
I'm trembling with rage. It's not often that I lose control. After centuries of practice, I have become a master of controlling my emotions and keeping myself in check. But seeing that man with his hand on my Elena's arm was my undoing.
I lost it.
I mean, I really fucking lost it.
I went into complete chaos mode. I was uninhibited and uncontrollable—just like when I was a fresh changeling. I tore the fuckers' throats out and made a huge mess that my men are cleaning up now. Although they knew better than to dare question my actions, I saw the concern in their eyes when they saw the mess I made.
Hell, it's been decades since I've had to even call in my cleaning crew. I'm usually much more discreet about my kills, but there's definitely going to be a lot of damage control taken to keep the word from spreading about what happened here tonight.
But I couldn't help it. I was pissed beyond measure when I saw the two men accosting my little angel.
But I'm angrier at myself than anyone else. I've been guarding her all this time, and I take one meeting, leave her alone for too longone damn time,and look at what happened.
I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps where I laid her out in her bed. My fingers itch to brush the hair back from her face, but I refrain from touching her right now. I don't want to chance waking her. She needs her rest after what just happened. The poor thing went into shock and passed out, but luckily I was there to catch her before she fell and busted her head wide open.
I stare down at her, my lips pressed into a thin line as I consider my options. I'm sorely tempted to kidnap her now. Take her back to my place with me where I can keep her under guard at all times and keep her safe.
But I know I can't do that. She'd hate me forever. She'd be terrified and always look at me as nothing more than the man who kidnapped her. I'd become a villain in her eyes, and I don't want to be a villain in her eyes.
No matter that in reality, I really am the worst kind of monster she could have ever gotten herself tangled up with.
No, I can't take her.
Not yet.
But my mind continues to turn as I try to figure out what I can do.
Because what happened here tonight is completely unacceptable.
Nine
Elena
I'm so shakenup the next morning, that my hands are literally trembling as I type. I keep making a ton of mistakes and cursing under my breath as I delete previous keystrokes and re-enter the same information repeatedly.
Maybe I should have called and asked for a day off, but I couldn't very well do that after Stephan had been generous enough to send me home early yesterday and give me more time off than I've ever had. I don't want to look like an ungrateful employee or one who's taking advantage of his generosity.
I still can't wrap my head around what I saw last night. I got up this morning, and there was no sign of anybody breaking into my apartment at all. I woke up in my bed, and I know I don't remember going to bed. In fact, the last thing I remember is seeing the black blur and a flash of golden eyes. Did I pass out?
But if I did, how did I get to my bed? Did I wake up and then stumble my way into the bedroom? I don't remember. Can shock cause short-term memory loss?
I even begin wondering if I imagined the entire thing. I mean, there was no trace of anyone outside my apartment. There certainly wasn't any blood that would explain the sounds I heard coming from the hallway last night.
Was I really rescued by some mysterious vigilante? Surely, I didn't imagine all of that. I know I didn't. I remember eating my chow mien, and I remember the fear that laced down my spine at the jiggling on my door.
The phone rings, and I jump with a yelp before placing my hand over my racing heart. Several people glance over at me, and my face flushes while I smile at them apologetically.
Christ, what's wrong with me? I'm jumpy and on edge. My hand is shaking as I pick up the receiver and answer it.
It's Stephan. "Hello, Elena." His smooth voice comes over the line. "How are you this morning?"
"I'm fine, Mr. Argyle. I mean, Stephan," I correct myself. I haven't fumbled and called him. Mr. Argyle for weeks now.
