said,
wiggling her shoulders like someone does when they stretch them out
after a workout, “something weird is going on around here. It
has me on edge. Don't need to get caught in some kind of war between
the families.”
Xander
looked down at his feet. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with Ellie,
he would have seen right away that she was off. That something was
wrong. “Look,” he said, reaching out and putting a hand
on her arm, “if shit starts going crazy, come get me. Between
Gabe and I... we can protect you.”
“Oh,
babe... didn't anyone ever tell you?” she asked, shaking off
his hand and moving to open the door for him, “I can take care
of myself.”
Nine
Ellie
stood in the kitchen for a long time after he left, feeling a little
more taken aback than she really had the right to. So what if he
needed to rush out? And was a bit... gruff. From the stories she
heard about him, that was his personality. Just because he took pity
on her for having a nightmare didn't change his everyday personality.
She
was projecting her feeling of connection onto him. And she shouldn't
even have felt that way. It didn't mean anything. People shared beds
with other people all the time. So what if he slipped a hand under
her shirt? And traced circles on her skin? And buried his hands in
her hair? Nothing had actually happened. He hadn't even implied he
was thinking about her that way.
He
had even went out of his way to tell her that she wasn't his type.
Ellie
washed the coffee cups and walked over to make the bed. She was
horny, she realized with a hysterical giggle. That was the problem.
Why she was horny was another question. She didn't even really like
sex. Sure, there had been times when the intimacy had felt nice once
upon a time. But she never experienced the clawing need for sex. Or
the fireworks during sex that everyone else talked about.
So
wanting Xander was weird.
With
a shrug, she showered and changed into black leggings and a
nondescript v-necked gray t-shirt. She had just finished pulling her
hair into a french braid that reached half-way down her back when
there was a knocking on the front door. Her heart leaped into her
throat, her heart slamming in her chest. She stepped carefully into
the hallway, watching the door as if it was about to burst inward.
Because
Xander always said it was him.
She
tiptoed back toward the apartment, trying to convince herself to calm
down. It was probably a client. Or a friend. Not every knock on the
door meant horror. In fact, he almost never knocked. He just found
his way in. And waited for her.
“Xander,”
a woman's voice called through the door. “Open up. It's
Hannah.”
Ellie
stopped moving, her hand frozen on the door. Hannah. Hannah Clary.
His client who he felt guilty about. Should she let anyone in his
office when he wasn't around? She didn't even know when he would be
home.
But
he needed to see her.
She
moved in through the office and unlocked the front door, pulling it
open to find Hannah and Elliott Michaels standing there... looking
completely out of place in his immaculate three-piece suit in such an
awful neighborhood.
“Oh,”
Hannah said, her gray eyes widening, “hi,” she mumbled,
dropping her hand from the door. But not before Ellie saw the scars.
The bright red, angry, awful looking scars around her wrists. Scars
that only come from fighting against some kind of binding. Scars that
came from being held against your will. Scars like she herself had on
her wrists.
“Hi,”
Ellie said, taking in the woman's long black hair and curvy body with
a bit of envy. Elliott was tall and good looking with dark hair and
blue eyes. He looked at her for a moment, before snaking an arm
around his girlfriend's waist. What should she tell him? She was the
maid? The secretary? His girlfriend? “Xander just ran out on a
job. He should be back pretty soon if you would like to wait.”
She
could feel them staring at her, taking in her black eye that had
started
wiggling her shoulders like someone does when they stretch them out
after a workout, “something weird is going on around here. It
has me on edge. Don't need to get caught in some kind of war between
the families.”
Xander
looked down at his feet. If he hadn't been so preoccupied with Ellie,
he would have seen right away that she was off. That something was
wrong. “Look,” he said, reaching out and putting a hand
on her arm, “if shit starts going crazy, come get me. Between
Gabe and I... we can protect you.”
“Oh,
babe... didn't anyone ever tell you?” she asked, shaking off
his hand and moving to open the door for him, “I can take care
of myself.”
Nine
Ellie
stood in the kitchen for a long time after he left, feeling a little
more taken aback than she really had the right to. So what if he
needed to rush out? And was a bit... gruff. From the stories she
heard about him, that was his personality. Just because he took pity
on her for having a nightmare didn't change his everyday personality.
She
was projecting her feeling of connection onto him. And she shouldn't
even have felt that way. It didn't mean anything. People shared beds
with other people all the time. So what if he slipped a hand under
her shirt? And traced circles on her skin? And buried his hands in
her hair? Nothing had actually happened. He hadn't even implied he
was thinking about her that way.
He
had even went out of his way to tell her that she wasn't his type.
Ellie
washed the coffee cups and walked over to make the bed. She was
horny, she realized with a hysterical giggle. That was the problem.
Why she was horny was another question. She didn't even really like
sex. Sure, there had been times when the intimacy had felt nice once
upon a time. But she never experienced the clawing need for sex. Or
the fireworks during sex that everyone else talked about.
So
wanting Xander was weird.
With
a shrug, she showered and changed into black leggings and a
nondescript v-necked gray t-shirt. She had just finished pulling her
hair into a french braid that reached half-way down her back when
there was a knocking on the front door. Her heart leaped into her
throat, her heart slamming in her chest. She stepped carefully into
the hallway, watching the door as if it was about to burst inward.
Because
Xander always said it was him.
She
tiptoed back toward the apartment, trying to convince herself to calm
down. It was probably a client. Or a friend. Not every knock on the
door meant horror. In fact, he almost never knocked. He just found
his way in. And waited for her.
“Xander,”
a woman's voice called through the door. “Open up. It's
Hannah.”
Ellie
stopped moving, her hand frozen on the door. Hannah. Hannah Clary.
His client who he felt guilty about. Should she let anyone in his
office when he wasn't around? She didn't even know when he would be
home.
But
he needed to see her.
She
moved in through the office and unlocked the front door, pulling it
open to find Hannah and Elliott Michaels standing there... looking
completely out of place in his immaculate three-piece suit in such an
awful neighborhood.
“Oh,”
Hannah said, her gray eyes widening, “hi,” she mumbled,
dropping her hand from the door. But not before Ellie saw the scars.
The bright red, angry, awful looking scars around her wrists. Scars
that only come from fighting against some kind of binding. Scars that
came from being held against your will. Scars like she herself had on
her wrists.
“Hi,”
Ellie said, taking in the woman's long black hair and curvy body with
a bit of envy. Elliott was tall and good looking with dark hair and
blue eyes. He looked at her for a moment, before snaking an arm
around his girlfriend's waist. What should she tell him? She was the
maid? The secretary? His girlfriend? “Xander just ran out on a
job. He should be back pretty soon if you would like to wait.”
She
could feel them staring at her, taking in her black eye that had
started
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