Page 45 of Called By Fate

"You're up late," I comment as I walk into the study to find Elian nose deep in one of Reed’s ancestors’ journals.

To be honest, I can’t sleep because the guilt of leaving Ash, even after the heartache she caused, and not knowing what happened to her is gnawing at me. I come to a stop at the edge of the desk and take a moment to admire Elian’s physique. His sharp jawline, his muscular, tattooed arms, his pursed lips. “I didn't take you for the studious type,” I say when the silence drags on too long for my taste.

He lifts those emerald eyes to meet mine and everything unsaid stretches between us. We haven’t had alone time like this since the night against the tree, and he definitely didn’t want to talk then. Not that I minded. Thinking about him between my thighs has my toes curling and my heart rate accelerating.

“There's a lot you don't know about me.” His voice is husky, likely from lack of sleep. He takes a sip of the whiskey sitting on his desk and my nose crinkles when the scent hits my nostrils. My body wants to freeze, to react to the smell as memories try to surface, but I force myself not to panic like I did at the festival with my ex, Tyler.

Elian may be an asshole, but he would never harm me like that, and my brain knows it. Elian doesn’t miss my reaction either, even with me tamping down on the trauma that tries to make itself known.

"Viola told me about your fear ability," I blurt.

Elian tenses and looks away from me. From this distance, I can just make out what looks like an inked scythe with roses wrapped around it sprawling up the side of his neck. How have I never noticed it before?

His tattoos are stunning. One of these days, I want to inspect all his ink. Thoroughly. Maybe even get one of my own.

"So, you know what I can do," he says.

“Yes,” I respond simply, picking up the journal he put down. I was right, it's another of the Light Weaver’s past leaders, but one I haven’t read yet. “What I don't know, or rather, understand, is why you want to hide that from me.”

He grunts and his gaze returns to mine. "Let's be honest, Pet. We aren't exactly on the best of terms most of the time." The self-deprecating quality to his tone seems to sayand it’s all my fault.

“And yet, you've been inside me.”

Those few words are enough to set his normally icy gaze ablaze. "That I have," Elian says, rubbing his jaw in thought. "Sadie. I—" he pauses and runs his hands through his hair, tugging. The next thing I know, he's towering over me—his mask completely gone. Other than that night we fucked or in the Goddess’ realm, I’ve never seen Elian look this vulnerable. He cups my cheek with his tattooed hand, bringing my eyes to his. “Fuck, why is this so hard to say?”

“I don’t know, but you've never minced words before. Why start now?” I ask gently, trying not to smell the whiskey on his breath. My heart races despite knowing he won’t hurt me.

He blows out a breath and the scent of alcohol hits me, but I hold my breath. “You're right. I want to apologize for the way I've treated you. When I first saw you at the concert, I knew by your aura that you were our Link, and I still pushed you away. If you hadn't bonded to Kaos, I probably would've let you walk away because every woman in my life has been killed—murdered—because of me.”

He drops my cheek and turns to pace back and forth in front of me. “I'm powerful, Sadie, but my father was more so. My ability to control fear was child's play compared to his, and that man has never loved anyone but himself.”

I’ve heard some powers can be passed down from parents, but it doesn’t always happen. Still, I’m not surprised Elron could control fear. Fitting for a man like him.

“Screw him, Elian. He’s dead. Don’t let his ghost continue to haunt you.” Pot calling kettle black here with my aversion to whiskey, but I digress.

Elian shakes his head, still pacing, before glancing over at me. “You don’t understand. My mother and sister got caught in the crossfire of one of our fights.” He pauses to take another deep breath, and I let him, allowing him to work through all the emotions I can see storming in his eyes.

"Unlike Dante, I wasn't allowed to live with Kaos' parents full-time. My father still demanded my presence most nights. One day, I finally decided I'd had enough of his shit. It was after a particularly gruesome night, one he spent three hours marking me with his razor. That was when I hit my breaking point. Since I wasn't perfect in his eyes, I had to atone for every single imperfection. A hair out of place? Mark. Said the wrong thing at dinner? Mark. A second too late to anything? Mark. You have to understand… I was fed up. Done. I decided then that I was going to kill him."

I have a feeling I know where this is going and it’s killing me for him. My own past with my uncle threatens to wield its ugly head, but I shove it down, knowing I need to focus on Elian right now and not be stuck in my head. That dark part inside of myself feels a sort of kinship with him. "Oh, Elian..." I whisper, not with pity but with sympathy.

“Don't. Do not pity me,” he snaps, misreading my expression. “I made my bed with my choices and now I have to lie in it—even if you hate me forever because of it. It's time you know the truth about me.”

"Elian..." I try again, but he stops pacing and puts a finger against my lips to stop me from saying anything else.

"I had it all planned out. Once he was finished marking me, I was going to steal his razor and slit his throat with it. I'd learned how to mask my fear around him and I was good at it, or so I thought. I convinced myself that my ability had finally surpassed my father's. What a fucking fool I was..." The pain radiating off him is almost enough to choke on. I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around him, but I know he's not that kind of guy. He’d shut down and close off and that’s not what I want. I want him to finally let it all out. To let me help carry the weight he holds constantly. So, I stay quiet and wait for him to continue.

"My mother and sister weren't supposed to be home that night. If they hadn’t been home... They might still be here."

"You don't know that."

"It doesn't matter either way because I failed them. My father played me. Gods, I still remember his smile—the look of triumph in his eyes when he marched them down to the basement and slaughtered them in front of me in retaliation for my actions. I swore after that I'd never get close to anyone else other than my Circle. I'd bide my time until I could murder the bastard, even if that meant turning into what I am now. A cruel, cold-hearted bastard, and it worked... until you waltzed into my life."

I can't help myself when I blurt, "What about Savannah?"

Elian snorts. "As if that wretched bitch could hold a candle to you. She was a means to an end—expendable. I didn't give a fuck about her so if my father used her to get to me, he wouldn't get very far."

"Elian… I—I don't even know what to say." I expected his life to be fucked-up, the others have told me so several times, but this? Well, this is more than I imagined. Maybe we are more similar than I thought…

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