Chapter 31 – The Love Triangle

The days that followed were strange and uncomfortable for Ela. She remained in Lukas's private quarters, not because she wanted to be there but because she did not have the energy to leave. The hollow inside her was still there, vast and cold, and every movement required a effort that she could barely summon. Lukas was attentive in his own way, bringing her food and water, sitting with her in the evenings, reading aloud from books she did not listen to. But she could feel his impatience growing beneath the gentle surface. He wanted more from her. He wanted her to feel something for him, to choose him, to bond with him. And she could not give him what he did not have.

Sasha visited her every day. He did not ask permission. He did not knock. He just walked into her room as if he belonged there, as if the walls had been built around him. Lukas did not like it, but he did not stop it. He could not. Sasha was a Volkov, and the Volkovs had their own power, their own influence, their own claim to the girl who had once been bound to their bloodline. Ela watched them circle each other, these two wolves who wanted different things from her, and she felt nothing. Not fear. Not confusion. Not even the faintest spark of interest. She was a bone being fought over by dogs, and she had stopped caring which one carried her away.

But Sasha was persistent. He sat with her for hours, talking about his life in Siberia, the frozen forests where he had grown up, the wolves who had raised him after his mother died. He told her stories about Nikolai when they were children, before the bond, before the curse, before everything went wrong. He made her laugh once, a small, surprised sound that escaped before she could stop it. She had not laughed in weeks. The sound felt foreign in her throat, like a language she had forgotten how to speak.

You are still in there, Sasha said. I can see her. The real Ela. The one who laughs and cries and feels. She is just buried. And I am going to dig her out.

Ela looked at him. At his gray eyes. His tattooed skin. His hungry smile. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that someone could reach past the hollow and find the girl she used to be. But she had believed in Nikolai, and he had lied. She had believed in Lukas, and he had manipulated her. Trust was a luxury she could no longer afford.

The night it happened, Ela was sitting by the window, staring at the moon. The black veins on her arms caught the silver light, dark and branching, like cracks in porcelain. She heard the door open behind her, but she did not turn. She knew it was Sasha. It was always Sasha at this hour, when Lukas was away, when the academy was asleep, when the world was quiet and dark and full of shadows.

He crossed the room without speaking. She felt his presence behind her, close and warm, and something stirred in the hollow. Not much. Just a flicker. Just the ghost of a feeling. He knelt beside her chair and took her hand. His fingers were cold, but they warmed against her skin. You have been sitting here for hours, he said. You have not eaten. You have not slept. You are wasting away, Ela. And I cannot watch it anymore.

Ela looked at him. His gray eyes were bright in the moonlight, and there was something in them that she had not seen before. Desperation. Need. Hunger. Not the cold, calculating hunger of Lukas. Something rawer. Something more honest. She did not pull away when he reached up and touched her face. His thumb traced her cheekbone, her jaw, the curve of her lower lip.

I can give you what Nikolai could not, Sasha said. His voice was low, rough, almost a whisper. I can make you feel again. I can wake you up. All you have to do is let me.

Ela shook her head. I do not want to feel, she said. Feeling hurts. Feeling destroys. Feeling is what got me here, sitting in a stranger's room, with a curse frozen in my blood and no memory of why I should keep living.

Sasha stood up. He pulled her to her feet, and she went with him because she did not have the strength to resist. He pressed her against the wall, his body hard against hers, his hands framing her face. His gray eyes searched hers, looking for something, some sign that she was still in there, still fighting, still alive. I am not asking you to love me, he said. I am not asking you to bond with me. I am just asking you to let me touch you. To let me remind you that you are still human. That you can still feel pleasure, even if you cannot feel anything else.

Ela wanted to say no. She wanted to push him away and run back to the window and lose herself in the endless, empty silence. But her body would not obey. Her body remembered what it was like to be touched, to be wanted, to be held. And the hollow was so cold, so vast, so unbearable that even the promise of temporary warmth was enough to make her stay.

Sasha kissed her. His lips were soft, gentle, nothing like the demanding hunger she had expected. He kissed her like she was something precious, something fragile, something worth being careful with. She did not kiss him back at first. She just stood there, her arms at her sides, her eyes closed, letting him take what he wanted. But then his tongue traced her lower lip, and something inside her stirred. Not the hollow. Something deeper. Something older. Something that had been sleeping since the ritual.

She made a sound. It was not a word. It was not a cry. It was something between a sigh and a moan, and it seemed to break something inside Sasha. He pulled back just enough to look at her face, to make sure she was still present, still consenting, still here.

Say the word, he said. Say stop, and I will stop. Say go, and I will give you everything.

Ela looked at him. At his gray eyes. His tattooed skin. His hungry, desperate, beautiful face. She did not say stop. She did not say go. She just reached up and pulled him back to her.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, and his hands slid down her body, tracing her curves, her hips, her thighs. He pulled her shirt over her head, and she stood before him in her bra, her skin pale in the moonlight, the black veins dark and branching across her arms and shoulders. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and for a moment, she almost believed him.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her collarbone, then lower, to the swell of her breast. He pulled down the fabric of her bra and took her nipple into his mouth, and she gasped. The sensation was sharp and bright, cutting through the hollow like a blade. She had not felt anything in weeks, and the feeling was almost too much, almost painful, almost unbearable. But she did not want it to stop.

Sasha's hands found the waistband of her pants. He pulled them down, and she stepped out of them, and then she was naked beneath him, and he was looking at her with those gray eyes, and she was not afraid. She was not anything. Except, maybe, for the first time in weeks, she was alive.

He carried her to the bed and laid her down on the furs. His body covered hers, warm and heavy, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer. He kissed her neck, her throat, the place where her pulse beat slow and steady. He pushed two fingers inside her, and she arched against his hand, a moan escaping her lips. He worked her slowly, gently, preparing her, and she felt herself getting wetter, getting ready, getting desperate.

He positioned himself at her entrance and looked into her eyes. Last chance, he said. Say stop.

Ela shook her head. Do not stop.

He pushed inside her. He was thick and hard, and the stretch was almost too much, but she welcomed it. She welcomed the pain, the pleasure, the feeling of being filled after so long being empty. He moved slowly at first, gently, letting her adjust to his size. Then faster. Then harder. His hands gripped her hips, and he thrust into her with a rhythm that made her see stars.

Forget Nikolai, he whispered against her ear. Forget Lukas. Forget all of them. There is only me. Only this. Only us.

Ela closed her eyes and let herself feel. The hollow was still there, somewhere in the background, but it was缩小, pushed aside by the heat of his body, the strength of his hands, the depth of his thrusts. She came apart beneath him, her body convulsing, her mouth open in a silent scream. He followed moments later, his body tensing, his breath ragged, his face buried in her neck.

They lay there afterward, tangled in the furs, their bodies slick with sweat. Sasha traced patterns on her skin with his fingertips, and she let him. She did not feel anything for him. Not love. Not gratitude. Not even affection. But she did not feel the hollow either. For the first time in weeks, she felt nothing at all. And that, at least, was a kind of peace.

The door exploded open.

Nikolai stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. His ice-blue eyes were not blue anymore. They were gold. Bright and burning and filled with a rage that made the air in the room feel thick and hot. His hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking. He looked at Ela, naked in the furs, Sasha's arm still wrapped around her waist. He looked at Sasha, his cousin, his blood, the man who had promised to help him heal. And something inside him snapped.

He crossed the room in three strides and grabbed Sasha by the throat. He lifted him off the bed and slammed him against the wall. The stone cracked. Dust rained down from the ceiling. Sasha did not fight back. He just hung there, his gray eyes wide, his hands clutching at Nikolai's wrists.

Did you sleep with her? Nikolai's voice was a growl, low and dangerous, vibrating with the wolf beneath his skin. Did you touch her? Did you put your hands on her? Did you put your mouth on her? Answer me.

Sasha's face was turning red. His lips were moving, but no sound came out. Nikolai loosened his grip just enough for him to breathe. Yes, Sasha gasped. Yes, I slept with her. Yes, I touched her. Yes, I put my hands and my mouth on every part of her. She is my fated mate now, Nikolai. She belongs to me.

Nikolai's grip tightened. Sasha's eyes bulged. His feet kicked against the wall. He was not fighting back. He was not even trying. He just hung there, accepting his fate, accepting that his cousin might kill him for what he had done.

Ela sat up in the bed. The furs fell away from her body, but she did not bother to cover herself. She looked at Nikolai, at his gold eyes, his shaking hands, his broken heart. And she felt nothing. Not fear. Not guilt. Not even the faintest echo of the love she had once felt for him.

Nikolai, she said. Her voice was flat, empty, detached. Let him go.

Nikolai turned his head. His gold eyes met her brown ones, and he searched her face for something, some sign that she still cared, that she still remembered, that she was still the girl he had fallen in love with. But there was nothing. Just the hollow. Just the emptiness. Just the endless, silent void where her heart used to be.

Did you want it? he asked. Did you want him? Did you want any of it?

Ela looked at Sasha. At his red face, his bulging eyes, his desperate, grasping hands. She looked at Nikolai. At his gold eyes, his trembling lips, his shattered soul. She wanted to feel something for them. Anything. But there was nothing. Just the hollow. Just the emptiness. Just the cold, quiet peace of feeling nothing at all.

The bond was broken, she said. I did not feel anything. I still do not feel anything. He was just there. And I was just empty. That is all it was.

Nikolai's grip loosened. Sasha slid down the wall, gasping for breath, his hands clutching his throat. Nikolai did not look at him. He kept his eyes on Ela, on her empty face, on the black veins that marked her skin. The bond can be restored, he said. I found a way. A ritual. A sacrifice. It will cost me everything, but it can be done. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. The blade was curved and sharp, and it gleamed in the moonlight. We can go back, Ela. We can undo what Lukas did. We can be together again. The way we were meant to be.

Ela looked at the knife. At his desperate eyes. At his broken heart. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to believe that they could go back, that they could undo the past, that they could be together again. But she knew it was not true. The bond was gone. The girl he had loved was gone. There was only the hollow. Only the emptiness. Only the cold, quiet peace of feeling nothing at all.

I cannot, she said. I do not remember how.

Nikolai's hand tightened on the knife. His gold eyes burned. Then I will remind you, he said. Even if it kills us both.