Elias (GRIT Sector 1) Page 6

  Because I wasn’t afraid.

  Trixie had wanted to kiss me and it was the most invigorating thing I’d felt since…

  She ran. She wasn’t supposed to run from me, Ashford’s didn’t flee and she certainly shouldn’t have run away from me. I hadn’t seen that coming, and I hated the unpredictable.

  Trixie was a challenge wrapped up in an enigma with a frustrating bow on top and that confetti stuff that made you want to puke.

  I shouldn’t have been fascinated by her. I should have let her run, sat on the ground and waited for her to return because I knew she couldn’t drive The Plough.

  Before I had a chance to decide which tree I’d lean against, my legs were carrying me towards the tank in search of the woman I should never have agreed to protect.

  She’d tried to get the tank going but she’d, failed like I knew she would, because I had the activator in my pocket. I wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite, actually, although she’d made me question that a few times over the past few hours.

  Her eyes connected with mine as I stalked towards her and I swear the electricity, the chemistry, or whatever this was that had changed everything in a split second, sparked between us until I thought my step would falter. Trixie looked at me like she wanted to eat me, like she wanted to pounce for entirely different reasons than those we had to worry about here. Except we did…this wasn’t right.

  She was confusing me. I was stumbling over my own monologue when I usually didn’t have much to say, and it was all my fault.

  I had to get rid of her.

  I rounded the tank to the driver’s side with Trixie’s hungry gaze never leaving me, although I’d had to look away to protect my own sanity. I took hold of the handle at the same time she did, and she pulled as I did. It was a battle—one I would win so easily were it not for the strained expression she wore which I imagined under different circumstances that distracted me; or the expletives she mumbled when she realised she wasn’t going to win this, or the screech that left her when I tore the door open and pulled her out of the car with it.

  Catching her before she fell to the ground, I hoisted her up against the side of the car and fused my lips to hers.

  He kissed me. He was kissing me, and it confirmed what I already knew. There was nothing conventional about this man. There was not a single shred of insecurity, serenity or dullness in his being.

  His kiss was powerful and it rendered me thoughtless. He kissed me with his entire body; it propelled into mine, trapping me between the tank and his strong hold. One hand fisted my hair, the other pinned my waist to the reinforced steel structure of the car. Our mouths collided, teeth clashed, tongues danced. He seized control of my very existence as he kissed it into oblivion. I was frozen, with my hands by my sides, blissfully dazzled by everything Elias possessed. Confusion, conflict, regret, aggression and unbridled lust that had not been unleashed until now. Both of his hands then gripped my head, angling me so he could explore me like no man ever had. I raised my hands to grip his wrists; he jolted against me and stilled, our lips still fused together. Slowly he pulled away, sucked in a breath as if committing me to memory, and pressed his forehead to mine. He twisted his hands, grabbed my wrists and held them between us.

  “She’s called The Plough,” he said, his voice husky with the hum of seduction. “She’s going to take you home.”

  He reached behind me and opened the back door, forcing me to take a step towards him as he took a step back and extended his arm.

  “Your carriage awaits, m’lady.”

  I studied him for a second, but he’d shut me out. His eyes had darkened and a wall of armour, as strong as the tank he wanted me to climb into, kept his thoughts protected. I relented. I was tired, hungry, sedated by his kiss and I knew arguing would get me nowhere. Turning around, I climbed in. I didn’t know why he wanted me to get in the back and I didn’t have time to ask as he slammed the door down and climbed in the driver’s seat, securing us inside once more. I laid across the back seats and watched the edge of his body as he took off along the road.

  “Elias.”

  “Trixie.”

  His utterance of my name made me snap my mouth shut. It was a plea for me to not ask another question, a request to give him a break and not overthink; it was a command to let him to his job and process his own thoughts.

  He hadn’t wanted to kiss me…no, I didn’t believe that; I felt like I’d become him while he was pressed flush against me.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed me. Maybe he had wanted to as badly as I’d wanted him to, but he wasn’t supposed to. But why?

  I curled up, hugged myself to stay warm and closed my eyes.

  The sun was shining when I woke up.

  In my bed.

  I sat up quickly and looked around. Elias was gone and I had no recollection of arriving home and getting into bed. I couldn’t remember saying goodbye to Elias and I had no idea when I’d see him again, if ever.

  Everything was the same as it had been when I’d left for work yesterday, and it was another hot summer’s day in the safe hours of daylight. Sighing and searching my mind for what I could remember from last night, I got out of bed and headed to the main bathroom to run a bath.

  My body was tired from another late night, aching from the tension bestowed upon it whilst in Elias’ presence and if Seb thought I’d be working today…well, he’d have to make his own coffee for a change.

  I laid in the bath with my eyes closed, bubbles up to my neck, and tried to remember everything about Elias. I remembered that the mask had become him—that he’d instantly become human once he’d taken it off. He’d felt at home disguised as the lion; he’d felt safe when he had it on. I remembered his scent, so different to how the Ashford’s security men usually smelt. No, Elias smelt like he was years—perhaps centuries older than he looked. He’d smelt like a man who had seen the world beyond the walls that kept us prisoner, slaves to our own destiny. I remembered his reluctance to talk, and wondering if it was because he didn’t want to talk to me, or because he couldn’t answer the questions I’d asked him. And I remembered his kiss. I touched my lips and remembered how his felt sliding over them; how his kiss hadn’t taken or given; it had just been paralysing, like the world had stopped and danger ceased to exist when we were together.

  “Where were you last night?”

  I jumped and splashed water over the side of the tub, opening my eyes to see Ruby standing in the doorway.

  “I told you I had a showcase.”

  “At the loft?” she asked, crossing the room to perch on the toilet seat.

  “Yep.” I glanced down to make sure the bubbles were on my side. “At the loft.”

  “And that’s the only place?”

  She knew. She may not have known the details, but Ruby knew I’d been somewhere other than Seb’s showroom. The crazy bat always knew the things I attempted to keep from her, so I no longer tried.

  But Elias had asked me to make a deal. I could only assume he didn’t want me to tell anyone he hadn’t brought me home right away. I would honour the only deal I thought he would have wanted to make had we gotten that far, because I was confused and refused to tell half a story that made no sense.

  “Yes, Grandma. I was at the loft and the security man brought me home.”

  Technically it wasn’t a lie. There was just a lot of time between the two events.

  “That’s it?”

  Ruby looked at me, in all my bubbly birthday suit glory, and her right eye twitched. It always did that when she was shifting into detective mode. I loved her, I really did, but I didn’t want her knowing the truth.

  I felt torn, between my family and the man who had threatened to take me to them and then changed his mind, for reasons unknown.

  “That’s all, Grandma,” I said, nodding slowly.

  A small smile played on her lips and her eyes fluttered closed as she tipped her head back. I’d have given anything to know what she was thinking. She sat up a
nd looked at me again, her green eyes sparkling.

  “Interesting.”

  Placing her hands on her knees, she got to her feet and shuffled out of the bathroom.

  Interesting?

  Yes, it was. I wasn’t expecting that response.

  I was in trouble. I’d known it the second I laid eyes on Trixie Ashford. I’d known it when she’d sat next to me in The Plough and I hadn’t wanted to recoil and run. I’d known it when she’d got out of the tank and braved the dangers of outside instead of just agreeing to behave. I’d known it—had the fear injected into me, the guilt blanketing me and the anxiety wrapping it tighter—when she’d kissed me. No, when I’d kissed her.

  I’d kissed her, and I’d enjoyed it.

  I’d acknowledged my defeat when I carried her to her room, sleeping peacefully in my arms, and when she’d gripped my jacket, snuggled closer and buried her face in the crook of my neck.

  I’d wanted it, and I shouldn’t have.

  I’d touched her and I shouldn’t have.

  I wanted her and I couldn’t.

  I hadn’t thought of anything but Trixie since I’d first seen her; of the way she smelt, the way she sounded, all defiant and fiery; the way she kissed me back, like we weren’t…

  I would pay for every sin I’d committed in the last twelve hours.

  I’d known that before I heard the beep that indicated the opening of the main gate. I stood up from where I was sitting in the kitchen looking out at the early morning bustle of safe-time, contemplating what I was going to do. Grabbing my coffee, I stepped up to the window, just in time to see my father’s car pull up outside. His driver got out, opened his door and Ambrose Blackwood stepped out.

  “Hi, Dad,” I mumbled to the glass as I watched him approach my apartment.

  The one he’d given me.

  The one he’d lived in before he met my mother.

  The same tradition had been handed down for as long as our lineage had existed, after the Spanish Armada had failed in their attempts to invade us.

  I shouldn’t have made him wait—I didn’t want to—but I knew he’d expect me to defy. With a heavy sigh, I waited until he’d pressed the button for the intercom several times, before I opened the door.

  “Father,” I said, greeting him as his icy eyes trailed on me.

  “Elias.”

  I didn’t know how he knew I hadn’t done my job. I knew why he was here, what he had come for; I just didn’t know what he knew and how he’d found out.

  “Let’s go.”

  “But-”

  “I said-” he raised his hand and closed his eyes, “-let’s go.”

  Now I wanted to rebel. Now I wanted to defy.

  I wanted to stamp my foot down, refuse to go with him and remind my father that I was the boss now.

  And that was the problem.

  I could hear Lola scurrying behind me, intimidated by my father’s presence—as she should have been. She placed my shoes in front of my feet, heel to toe so I could step right in, and then stood just out of view as Ambrose and I continued to stare through each other. I had no choice. I stepped into my shoes and worked quickly to tuck my shirt in my trousers as my father turned and extended his hand to Lola.

  “A pleasure as always, Ms Lola.”

  He pressed his lips to the back of her hand as she licked her lips and rolled her eyes.

  “Thanks, Lola,” I said as he released her, turned towards the front door and clicked his fingers for me to follow. “Take the rest of the day off.”

  I followed Ambrose out of the front door, through the entrance of the building and climbed in the back of his car.

  Blackwood Estate, one of the twin estates located just inside the city walls was looming, intimidating and colossal. Hidden from the world by thick woodland protected by electrical wire gates and packs of dogs, Blackwood House was the safest building in the city. For some.

  Ambrose hadn’t said anything during the journey over here and I hadn’t expected him to. I knew he was biding his time, waiting to execute the plan we’d carried out countless times before.

  “So, Trixie Ashford,” Father said as the car pulled up outside the house. “What happened?”

  “Richard called and asked me to assist.”

  “Did he?” There was a pause as his door opened and he got out, adjusted his suit and called back into the car. “Why did Richard come to you?”

  I got out next, feeling unpresentable in my casual trousers and shirt.

  “I don’t know, I just answered the call. He didn’t sound pleased about having to ask me so I assumed the usual team was indisposed.”

  “How was she?”

  My step faltered when I was about to reach him and the best I could hope for was that he’d ignore it, because there was no way I could hide the truth from him.

  “She was…” I cleared my throat and gestured for him to lead the way. “Unconventional.”

  His interest was piqued. I noticed the subtle shift in his body as he walked in front of me.

  “How so?”

  “She’s annoying. She’s loud, vulgar, and has no idea how to use the name she carries.”

  “Interesting,” he mused, leading me into the foyer.

  He had three choices; left, right, and straight ahead. I waited with baited breath until he made his choice.

  Left.

  I followed without a word, understanding that I wasn’t supposed to fight this. Ambrose knew what I’d done and he needed to remind me why things had to be this way.

  “What happened?”

  We stepped through the heavy door and into the office, crossing it immediately to the bookcase on the far wall. Father slid it open and the blackness of what laid behind it seeped out.

  “What happened, Elias?”

  He gestured for me to lead. I took a step into the corridor of Sector 1.

  “There was a little…drama.”

  “Drama?”

  His voice echoed around the hallway as I led the way, treading carefully on the wet cobbles, using the walls on either side of the narrow passage for guidance in the blind spots offered by the shadows from flickering lights.

  “Drama. I had to evacuate the venue. I couldn’t find Trixie and when I did she was hostile and accusatory. By the time I got her to The Plough she was cold and tired, and she fell asleep. I drove around waiting for her to wake up and then I took her home.”

  “She doesn’t sound like an Ashford.”

  This corridor felt miles long as I listened for a sound that would indicate we’d arrived at our destination.

  “She isn’t.” She wasn’t. It was unsettling. “She was unhinged and uncouth. Something went terribly wrong with her Ashford upbringing. Poor girl could have been raised by anyone. There was no difference between her and them.”

  “Then I cannot understand why Richard asked you to engage with her.”

  “Neither can I, Father.”

  But I hoped I wouldn’t have to again. Trixie Ashford was a nuisance and she was a threat. Her naivety was dangerous, her curiosity was unwarranted no matter how much I’d let her manipulate me into believing otherwise, and by spending time with her I’d been distracted from what was important. Why I was here and what I had to do.

  Ambrose placed his hand on my shoulder to stop me and turned me to face a locked door. He nodded; I pulled out my key to unlock it and pushed. It swung open with a creak and I realised what today’s task was. We stepped into the room.

  “Ready, son?” he asked, handing me a bucket of water and a rag from the counter next to him.

  I knew why he’d brought me here.

  Some secrets were better left untold.

  Others? Others required a waterboard.

  “Ready.”

  “Trixie, dear?”

  Ruby’s little worn knuckles tapped on my bedroom door.

  “Come in, Grandma.”

  She did, opening the door slowly and stepping inside.

  “It has been three
days, darling,” she said, her voice quivering with age and worry. “You need to leave this room.”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t intentionally not going out; I was just inspired. I’d spent three days sketching and waiting to hear from Seb. I hadn’t. He’d disappeared and I couldn’t help but think it had something to do with Elias.

  “What are you working on?” she asked, perching on the edge of the bed and dropping her shawl to her lap.

  Ruby was the only person other than Trace to see my drawings. She understood this world and as well as detecting lies like a human polygraph, she gave honesty like it was going out of fashion. She sifted through what I’d drawn since I’d shut myself in here. Elias. Sometimes he was wearing the lion mask, sometimes he was looking directly at me, sometimes he was looking out at something; but every time he was different. I couldn’t remember him precisely and every interpretation of him felt like I was further from the real man. It was like I’d imagined it all.

  “Who is this?”

  Ruby studied the sketches intently. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. She pursed her lips and I wasn’t sure if it was in amusement or concern.

  “I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a lie. I knew his name, but I didn’t know who he was.

  “Why are you drawing him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I’d never felt uncomfortable with my work in Ruby’s hands, but I was now. Sometimes Elias was happy, sometimes he was angry and sometimes he had the faraway look in his eyes that I’d seen in the tank. My favourite—the closest to what I felt was the real thing—was Elias covered in blood, his hair falling over his forehead, his teeth bared, eyes hooded, blood dripping from his mouth and staining the collar of his shirt.

  “Trixie,” Ruby said. “Darling.” She couldn’t find the words. “These are stunning.”

  I swallowed hard and volume failed me when I whispered, “Thank you.”