17. Elara

Chapter 17

Elara

T he cold rain bites at my skin, stinging like a thousand tiny needles, as I stumble out of Gram's house and into my car.

I'm shocked Kaspian didn't take it, too.

Scanning the expansive front yard in the breaking dawn, I don't catch sight of him or any footprints telling me where he went. It's like he was never here. Just a vengeful, pissed-off aberration haunting the manor until he got what he wanted.

My body feels used and violated, the humiliation from Kaspian's cruel touch still lingering heavily on my skin. Clutching the necklace tightly in one hand, I start the car and make my way toward my mother's house.

Rain pelts my face after I park, then step out and stumble through the open gates of Farrow Manor, holding the necklace close to my heart. I don't think I've let it go since Kaspian flung his hand out in dismissal. It's useless to us until it's whole, anyway.

My body is a wreck, a battleground where Kaspian's crooked desires played out, and now all I crave is the safety and comfort of my childhood home.

An empty house, now that Mom isn't there.

The storm builds around my slouched form, drowning out my sobs.

"Elara!" Sasha's voice cuts through the thunder as she leaves the shelter of the porch and rushes toward me. "What happened?"

"Kaspian," I choke out.

Sasha envelops me in her arms, shielding me from the storm before she guides me up the steps and into the foyer. The door blows shut behind us, muffling the thunder to a low rumble.

I shiver, my soaked clothes clinging to my skin. Rivulets of rainwater pool on the marble floor beneath my feet. The jagged edges of the broken Heart dig into my palm.

"Tell me everything," Sasha says.

She frowns with worry as she studies my face and brushes a lock of drenched hair from my forehead.

Words clog my throat. Shame burns through me as flashes of Kaspian's heartless touch, his degrading words, play in my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to breathe past the tightness in my chest.

"He used me, Sasha," I whisper. "Violated me as a punishment for—I don't even know what." A broken sob escapes my lips. "He despises me."

Sasha's eyes flash with protective fury. She pulls me into another tight hug as I weep against her shoulder, my body shaking.

"I'll kill him," she growls, squeezing me tight. "I swear to god, I will cut off his balls and shove them so far up his ass they'll come out of his eye sockets."

But the poison of Kaspian's touch lingers, a permanent brand seared into my flesh.

One that I didn't just endure--but loved experiencing. Orgasm after orgasm crashed through me while he kissed and bit and…

"Come on," she says gently, guiding me through the halls. "Let's get you cleaned up."

We navigate the house with care, avoiding the homemade traps laid out by my agoraphobic mother in her paranoid attempt to protect herself from imagined threats. Even though she's safely committed to a private institution now, her presence lingers in every corner of this house.

Sasha fills the bathtub with steaming water and pours in generous amounts of bubble bath, creating a frothy haven for me to sink into. She helps me undress, tenderly removing my shirt, before assisting me into the tub.

As I submerge myself in the comforting warmth of the water, the tension in my muscles begins to loosen. The bubbles envelop me like a protective cocoon. Sasha sits on the edge, offering me a bar of soap.

"Mom?" I ask when I accept the soap, needing to know she remains safe.

"She's fine," Sasha assures. "I've been on and off the phone with the hospital. They've made her comfortable."

"Thank god," I whisper, relief washing over me. But it's short-lived. "Thank you for being there for her and for me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Sasha flashes me a watery smile and squeezes my damp hand. "You don't ever have to find out, El. We're in this together, remember?"

Except you have nothing to do with this. You didn't ask for this.

The guilt of dragging Sasha into this shitstorm seems to make my bath hotter. Yet she didn't balk when Kaspian pulled out a knife or when Mom shot Kaspian. She's never judged my cracked and acrid family life. And she's harbored her own secrets. Going to Thornhaven Manor at night, having anonymous sex with initiates, enjoying forbidden pleasures.

Maybe I'm not giving Sasha enough credit.

"Time is running out to find the other half of the ruby Heart." I sigh, shifting uncomfortably in the water and wincing at the tender soreness between my thighs.

"But how are we going to find it?" Sasha asks after a long pause. "Even Maverick didn't trust you enough to tell you where he hid it."

"That's not true!" I say defensively before catching myself and releasing a weary sigh. "He probably just didn't get around to it...or..."

"Or he was murdered before he could." Sasha finishes my sentence with a grimace.

"Right." I let out another sigh, but this one's heavy with dread. It tastes like iron and feels like a stone sinking into the pit of my stomach.

"We will find it," I say, more to myself than Sasha. "We have to."

I say it to assure myself that finding Maverick's killer is my top priority, but the guys' faces keep taking shape in the sifting bubbles on the water's surface. Cav, Axe, Wilder…

Kaspian.

They're bound by the same chains Maverick was. And I don't want them to die, too.

After a while, I rise from the tepid water, feeling a little more composed. Sasha hands me a fluffy towel, and I wrap myself in its comfort.

"We should start with Clover," Sasha suggests cautiously after a moment. "I looked up her name while you were gone. You know, the girl who lives with those professors and TAs."

The steam from the bath dissipates, almost like the release of a loving embrace as I take in Sasha's words.

I know exactly who she's talking about. Clover, the girl who seems to have her claws in all four Vultures, plus her brother. A part of me wants to be grossed out by it, but another part understands the need to be loved by more than one man and to love them in return. They each bring something different. Something—essential.

I bite my lip, contemplating the idea.

"Are you sure, Sash?" I ask. "It's risky, and we hardly know anything about her."

Sasha grins, her eyes sparkling with that familiar confidence I've come to rely on. "When has that ever stopped us before? And let's be honest, we're pretty desperate."

"She could tell us more about my ancestry," I muse as we pad into my childhood bedroom, and I rifle through the drawers for pajamas. "Didn't she do that paper on the Anderton lineage last semester?"

"That's right. Professor Morgan posted it outside his class as some kind of proof that his occult studies class is awesome. Not that he has to. That class is impossible to get into," Sasha gripes.

I can't help but chuckle at her unwavering enthusiasm. Her normalcy is infectious, and maybe it's exactly what I need right now.

"Alright, we'll talk to Clover. But we need to be careful. The Vultures are just as dangerous as the Court. I don't want to get caught in their crosshairs again."

"Clearly, they already have their eyes on you, Elara," Sasha counters with a pointed look. "So we might as well use their current interest to our advantage."

I wince, knowing she's right. My encounters with the Vultures have been far from pleasant, but if Clover can give me any lead on Maverick's killer or the other half of the ruby, I'm willing to endure it.

Taking a deep breath, I lay out my plan. "Let's go to the Vultures' place tomorrow night. We need to be discreet about it."

"Why? Scared they'll peck out our eyes?" She snorts. "Sorry. Bad joke. Can I borrow some pj's?"

I roll my eyes at her quip but clench my fists tighter against the soft cotton of my pajamas. I can still feel the disturbing strokes of Kaspian's fingertips on my skin, the way I floundered underneath his touch, begging for more even as he degraded me.

What does that make me?

Sasha sobers up instantly at my sudden change in body language.

"We'll be careful," she promises.

"Grab some pj's from the drawer." I move to one side of my canopy-covered bed while slinging the ruby necklace over my head until it rests between my breasts under my shirt. "Tomorrow, we'll take more of our stuff from the dorms. This house is empty now, and it shouldn't be. Mom wouldn't want it that way."

"Wouldn't the dorms be safer than here, in the middle of the forest?"

"You think the RAs and private security guards will protect us from a violent, powerful secret society that has been operating underground for centuries?" I say after a mild snort. "This house is covered in Mom's handmade, highly illegal safety measures. Consider Farrow Estate to be like the movie Home Alone , except with a background in paranoia, murder, and plenty of time on her hands."

Sasha takes in my childhood room with new eyes. "Yep, okay, then. We can stay here as long as you need."

As we both settle into bed for the night, sleep comes fitfully. Each time I close my eyes, I see Axe and all the old scars on his body, layered on each other now that the Sovereigns are running out of smooth skin. And Cav, lying pale and bloodless in his bed, torn bandages around his torso staining his sheets as he roared and hallucinated. Wilder, dangling above a cliff, pretending to topple off, but a brief twist in his expression told me it wasn't entirely a joke.

Kaspian appears to me last, an inhuman slant to his lips as he pushed down on my center with the thick sole of his shoe, bringing me ecstasy under his brutal control—his irises a reflective prism of green, a kaleidoscope of emotions he couldn't keep hidden when I shattered underneath him. Regret, guilt, penitence…

The images jolt me awake every time, and it's only when Sasha's soft snores fill the room that I finally allow myself to drift into sleep, clinging onto her steady rhythm like a lifeline out of a nightmare.

A sharp gasp tears from my throat as the visions splinter into the darkness, and I'm suddenly wide awake again, heart thundering against my ribs. The room feels colder than it should, and a prickling sensation creeps up my spine. I strain my ears, trying to discern any sound over Sasha's snores, but there's nothing—just the deafening silence of an empty house.

I sit up, the necklace's constant chill an alarm to my fevered skin. The air seems to hold its breath, waiting. And then, outside the window, a faint scrape... like the whisper of leaves.

Or something worse trailing against the glass.

Holding my breath, I peel out of bed and edge toward the curtains, peering into the thick fog sifting through the yard and bathing everything in an afterstorm gray.

The silhouette is unexpected—a shape that shouldn't be there, motionless and imposing. My heart lurches as it shifts, a lurch of movement that's unmistakably deliberate. Whoever—or whatever—is out there knows I'm watching.

Fear roots me to the spot; curiosity urges me closer.

With a trembling hand, I draw back the curtain just a sliver more and come face-to-face with the reflective gaze of silver-gray eyes that seem brighter than the storm's colorless aftermath. Even more stark is the slash of red across his cheek.

" Axe? " I mouth in question.

I press my fingers to the cold windowpane.

The figure recedes into the mist as if he were never there at all, leaving me with a rising tide of alarm and questions.

What happened? Why is he here? Is he hurt? Is he warning me away?

Clutching at the broken Heart beneath my shirt, I know I'll never get to sleep now.