His Promise

Scarlett

M y breath hitches as I look at him.

"I've seen scars on Jessica. Dad told me her ex was abusive but I was under the impression that-"

"That I wasn't tortured like Mama and Indigo," I finish for him, trying not to let my emotions show. He's watching me intently and I attempt a smile.

"But that's not true is it? You suffered just as much as them, didn't you?" he asks softly.

How can I tell him that I suffered far more than he could imagine? Although Mama would end up bedridden for days after a brutal beating, I was often subjected to weeks of torture. My punishment didn't end when I succumbed to the pain or when I lost consciousness. No, for me, it continued; I was his plaything. The one he forced awake and tortured again just to test my limits.

I push the dark thoughts away, refusing to remember the pain. Trying not to think of Mama once whispering that I'll be safer than Indigo because according to her, he didn't hurt me as much as her.

I have blocked it out. Most of the horrifying memories lie locked up at the back of my mind, only to return to haunt me at night.

Sometimes Mama would think I had gone to some training camp and I would never deny it, sticking to what Zidane had threatened me to say. I knew he would hurt Indigo if I told Mama. Mama would always check me for bruises, but I would be perfectly bruise free and it eased Mama's mind.

That's how, over time, she began believing that Zidane did not hate me as much as he did her and Indigo. And I know that's the reason Mama shouts at me a lot more than Indigo, because she thinks Indigo suffered far more. Don't get me wrong, she did get hurt many times, but I always protected her, often putting myself forward to take her punishment. The majority of the time, he would accept my offer. After all, he realised Indigo couldn't heal like me.

And I don't hold that against anyone. I made that choice. I will never say it to Indigo, but even now I will protect my little brat of a sister, no matter what. I will never let him hurt her again.

"Red?"

I swallow, as I dare not to look into those cerulean eyes. I've kept it a secret for so long. I don't need to tell anyone now. I can't tell him the truth.

"Talk to me, Kitten."

"I was stronger," I whisper, unsure what I'm trying to say. His heart rate changes and I glance up, seeing the calculating look in his eyes.

"When you were thirteen, remember when you fell from that tree and hurt your arm? You were in a cast for two weeks," he begins. "Your quick healing was there before you shifted right. Your mother doesn't know about your quick healing, does she?"

I nod. "Yeah, I healed, but I kept it a secret."

"Why?"

"I just… I just didn't want it to be used against me, so I just wanted to act normal when I knew it wasn't normal. When I was little and used to fall, she'd say I have a guardian angel because I never got hurt badly."

"Why would you think anyone would use it against you? You were just a child," he pushes.

"Yeah, I know, but Zidane…" I trail off, my heart thundering as I realise I have walked directly into his trap. Our eyes meet. His eyes are glimmering cobalt blue.

He knows.

My heart thumps as I watch him trying to control his emotions, but he's failing. I look away quickly, trying to calm my own emotions.

"He knew about your quick healing ability, didn't he? And he used that to abuse you even more, correct?" he asks quietly, taking hold of my chin with his rough fingers. His hold is gentle yet firm, tilting my head up and forcing me to meet his eyes. "Answer me, Red." His voice is almost a snarl, and I nod.

Denying him the truth that he already knows would only anger him further. He lets go of me as if touching me had just burned him.

I can see the rage in his eyes, and feel his Alpha aura roll off him in waves.

"He's fucking dead," he mutters as he stands up, striding to the door, about to pull it open when I stumble from the bed and run over to him, grabbing his arm.

"Elijah, no!" I yell, pulling him to face me with a burst of strength, my own aura rising. I stare into his blazing eyes, my own a steely silver. I know he's pissed, but if he's thinking to do something crazy, I need to stop him. "Please… don't go. I need you." My words end in a whisper as his eyes soften a little as he gazes into my eyes.

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, before he pulls me flush against him, one hand on my waist, the other cupping the back of my head as he presses my five-foot-two-inch frame completely into him.

"I'm never fucking leaving you. I promise, sweetheart. No matter what, I'm always going to have your back, I promise," he murmurs.

I slowly wrap my arms around his waist, holding him tight and inhaling his intoxicating scent . Will he really be there for me? It's hard to believe. After all, one day, he'll find his mate, right?

I tighten my arms around him, a stray tear slipping out of my eyes. I'm causing him nothing but pain. If he is so worked up over a few small scratches, how will he even cope with knowing what I had been through? Because of that, I know I can never tell him the true extent of my father's abuse.

Ever.

He kisses the top of my head. "Come on, you should still rest," he whispers softly. I nod, rubbing my neck and wondering why it hasn't healed. The entire area throbs and feels like it is burning, the heat spreading from my neck.

My neck.

I freeze, my heart thundering.

He had bitten me .

My neck is burning me.

I pull away from Elijah, my eyes scanning the room until I spot a small mirror on top of the washbasin and rush over to it.

"Scarlett, listen to me-"

"Fuck…" I swear, my face paling as I stare at the horrifying stain on my neck. I feel sick to my stomach, the sheer realisation of what had happened hitting me like a bolt of lightning.

My own father marked me.

A mark is something sacred, that is meant to completely tie together two mates, and here he has gone against the very law of the Goddess and marked his own daughter for nothing more than some crazy way of trying to control me?

I feel numbness wash over me, realising what this means. Once again, he has me trapped.

I place a hand on my head as the room spins. I can no longer hear Elijah. He's nearby and I think he's holding me because I haven't fallen, but I can't focus on anything.

He's whispering something, but I can't hear.

Only the disgusting mark and the throbbing pain in my neck consume me.

Now Zidane's malicious look of victory makes sense.

He always wins.

I was wrong. No matter how hard I try, no matter how old I get or how far away I go, he will always win.

My legs give as my eyes blur, but I don't hit the floor, feeling Elijah catching me.

"Scarlett, listen to me, baby girl. It's going to be okay."

Is it?

Nothing will get better.

He's calling me again, but I no longer have the will to respond.

He marked me.

My own father.

"Scarlett! Fuck, look at me, please!"

His voice is muffled as if he's shouting through a glass window. I can feel his soft kisses on my face, my shoulder, on my neck. It is only when his lips meet my burning mark that I'm snapped back to reality, jerking away from him, but he holds me tightly.

"What are you doing?" I ask coldly. "Can you not see this?"

"I'm worried for you, Red," he whispers softly, as if I might snap if he speaks loudly. Which I might.

I try to push his hands off me, but he refuses to let go.

"Yeah, I can see it, but it changes nothing. We will remove that mark from your neck, I promise you. Just don't think you're in this alone." His arms wrap around my waist, pushing my breasts up as he holds me firmly. I struggle to get away from him but he's stronger.

"Let go of me, Elijah," I command.

"No, I won't."

"Why? You got what you wanted, didn't you? I gave you my all! So just… just leave me alone. I don't need anyone!" I snarl coldly, wanting him to get angry and leave.

His heart is thundering, but he refuses to let go.

"But I need you. Call me fucking selfish, but when I want something, I'm not giving it up," he says huskily, and I tense in his arms. His words have thrown me off, my eyes stinging with treacherous tears.

"Until your mate comes along and then those emotions will be gone," I whisper, feeling broken. I'm tired. Tired of it all.

"I will reject her for you without hesitation. If you want me, even if it's half of how much I want you, I'm yours. Just give me the word, Red, and I'll be yours until the day I die," he whispers, placing soft kisses along my neck.

His words make my eyes burn with a hope that I shouldn't have. With my luck, how can I even have something like this? Why would the Elijah Westwood forsake it all for me?

My eyes sting with tears. I'm scared and I hate the feeling of being vulnerable. Do I dare believe him? If I give in to him, I will be lowering all my walls, walls I have taken years to build from the very first time my father laid his hands on me.

This isn't easy. There is so much more to it than just us. Our parents are married…

I don't know what to do or say. Defeated, I slump against his chest, letting him bury his nose in my neck and inhaling my scent. His kisses feel cool against my burning skin, but then I remember how disgusting it looks and I shrug him away.

"Don't. That place is tainted." My lips quiver, but I clench my jaw, not wanting to let it show.

"You're not tainted, sweetheart. That fucker can try, but he won't get any further than that. We're going to fucking destroy him," he tries to reassure me, but can a monster like Zidane be defeated? How much further can he go? What's worse than being marked by a monster?

He gently rocks me from side to side, his hard chest against my back, his arms tight around me. I feel so protected in these arms; I wish I never have to move.

"Yeah… it's the only way," I agree, despite my doubts. I am not sure how to do it or how the mark will affect me, but I am going to kill him.

"So, what do you wanna do now? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Tired?" he asks, placing a hand on my stomach, making my heart skip a beat. I bite my lip, turning to look up at him. I know what I want, the one thing that can take my mind off everything.

"I want…" I start, teasingly placing my hand on his thigh as I turn to look into his eyes, not missing how they darken. I tilt my head up, my gaze falling to his lips.

"Yeah?" he asks, leaning closer, our lips centimetres apart. My hot breath fans his face, my sweet fresh scent making him close the gap. His lips meet mine and I kiss him back, smiling against his mouth.

"I didn't finish," I murmur, and Elijah smirks.

He pauses for a moment before his smirk returns.

"So, what do you want?" he asks, caressing my face.

"A shower. I feel dirty," I say, wrinkling my nose, and the look in his eyes tells me he's thinking something dirtier.

"I like you dirty," he teases seductively, kissing my neck. I roll my eyes.

"I'm sure you do, but right now, I just want a shower." I nudge him away. As much as I want to fuck him, I want to wash all traces of Zidane from me.

"Sounds good." He glances towards the door that I'm certain leads to the bathroom. He looks back at me, his smirk gone, his now intense eyes burning into mine.

"Want to join?" I ask softly, my heart thudding.

"I thought you'd never ask," he replies huskily, tugging me close by the back of my neck and kissing me hard.