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Chapter 25 – The Weight of Waiting
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2026-05-24 00:43:57The twentieth day feels like an eternity stretched thin.
I sit beside his bed for hours, watching the slow unraveling of the man who once held my entire world in his cruel hands. The room smells of sickness now—medicine, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of blood he keeps coughing up. The doctor came again this morning and left with a grim face, muttering about organ failure and the need for immediate hospitalization. My father refused, as expected.
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She sleeps against my chest for almost two hours.I don't move.I don't want to break the moment.My hand keeps tracing slow circles on her back, feeling her breathing grow deeper and deeper. Her wet hair dries slowly against my skin. Her scent—soap, warm skin, and something I now recognize as mine—surrounds me.When she finally stirs, it's slow. Her body goes rigid the second she realizes where she is. I feel the change immediately."Stay still," I murmur, my voice hoarse from so much silence. "I'm not done holding you yet."Elara lifts her face. Her green eyes are swollen from sleep and from everything that happened in the shower. There's confusion in them. Anger. And a deep exhaustion that hits me in the chest."Why are you doing this?" she asks lowly. "Why don't you just fuck me and get it over with? Why all this game?"I hold her face with one hand, my thumb tracing lightly over the bruise that's fading."Because when I really fuck you, it won't be fast. Or empty. It'll be comple
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Love At Sea Chapter 7 (131) – What I Can't Control
I keep her locked up all day.Not out of cruelty.Out of control.I need to distance myself. I need to remember who I am and what I swore I would never become. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw her body under mine. Her marked neck. Her green eyes full of hatred and desire. The way she trembled when my mouth traveled down her skin.Now it's night.I walk up the stairs slowly. The key turns in the lock. When I open the door, I find her sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing my black shirt. Her hair is messy. Her eyes are red. She didn't sleep well. Neither did I."You came back," she says, her voice hoarse from screaming alone."I never really left," I answer, closing the door behind me. "I just gave you space to hate harder."She laughs without humor."How generous."I walk toward her. Slowly. Every step is calculated. When I stop in front of her, she has to lift her face to look at me. I like this position. I like seeing her smile under me."Get up.""No."I grab her chin
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I carry her back upstairs as if she weighs nothing.She fights the entire way. Her nails try to tear my shirt, her teeth seeking any piece of skin they can reach, her legs kicking the air with force. I don't let go. My arm is firm around her waist, the other holding both her wrists against my chest. Her scent rises — anger, expensive soap, and that desire she hates to admit. Every movement of her body against mine only makes me more tense."Let me go, you son of a bitch!" she screams, her voice hoarse from all the cursing.I don't answer. I just go up the stairs with firm steps, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. When we reach the bedroom, I throw her on the bed. Her body bounces on the soft mattress, and she immediately tries to get up. I climb on top of her before she can. My knees on either side of her hips, my hands pinning her wrists above her head hard enough to leave marks. The weight of my body immobilizes her completely."Stop fighting," I say, breathless, my voice low and
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The silence after Maeve's call hangs heavy in the room.Elara is still cuffed by her right wrist to the headboard. The thin nightgown clings to her body in a way that makes me clench my jaw. I stand beside the bed, looking at her. She returns my gaze with the same fury as always, but now there's something different. Curiosity. Fear. And that anger burning underneath."Does your mother know you're a kidnapper?" she asks, her voice hoarse from all the screaming yesterday."She knows I do what I need to protect what's mine," I answer.I step closer and release the cuff. Elara immediately sits up and rubs her red wrist. I wait for the blow. It comes. She tries to hit me in the face with her free hand. I catch her wrist in midair and pull her to the edge of the bed, forcing her to kneel on the mattress, facing me."Keep trying," I murmur, tilting my face close to hers. "Every time you attack me, I remember how much fire you still have in you. And I like fire."She spits near my foot."I'm g
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