Page 592 of Filthy Elites

The elderly doctor checks my wrist, and touches my tender foot, informing me that it’s just badly bruised, not sprained, but recommends I take it easy for a few days.

“Your smoke inhalation is as much of a concern as the bruise on your head. You fell down, yes?”

I nod. “I didn’t hit my head very hard. The wrist took the brunt of it.”

“Be that as it may, you need to be careful. My advice is to remain in our care until tomorrow at least. I can’t keep you here, though, and so long as you have someone with you through the night, you should be fine. You need to see a doctor if you feel any worse.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight, Doctor Vaughn,” Chase promises.

The old man nods. “Very well. If you insist, you’re free to go. I’ll have a nurse bring the wheelchair.”

“I don’t need a wheelchair.” I grimace. My foot’s not great, but I’ll manage.

“Hospital policy, I’m afraid. I won’t be long, miss.”

I don’t know if the hospital is always this efficient, or if the presence of two Archers in my room speeds everything up, but I’m rolled out of there less than ten minutes later.

My mother lets Chase roll me to one of his friends’ fancy cars, as I’m certain I couldn’t have fit in Xavier’s sporty two-passenger number.

We drive home in comfortable silence, and once we get through the gate, Chase stops in front of his house and tells me, “Wait a second.”

He comes to the passenger door, opens it, and gathers me in his arms.

I let him, mostly because it’s nice being against his chest, but also because walking sucks. “The house’s the other way,” I inform him, because he’s walking to the back of his mansion, rather than toward the brownstone.

“I promised you wouldn’t be alone tonight, remember, fiancée?”

He takes me to the pool house, kicking the door open so he doesn’t need to set me down.

Inside, it’s small and cozy. The bed’s made, and everything is in its proper place, down to the neatly stacked pile of books on the bedside table.

Though it’s tidy, the space doesn’t look impersonal like the hospital room.

“This is your room?” I’m guessing.

I’ve never been here before; Chase had to come into my space if he wanted to see me. I never tried to enter his.

How silly. It’s rather nice in here.

“I have a bigger one in the main house, but I like the privacy.” He sets me down on his bed. “You want something to drink? Eat?”

I shake my head and crawl under the duvet. Chase’s distinctive scent, a woodsy smell with hints of seaside, engulfs me.

I’m asleep before my next breath.

ChapterThirty-Four

Erica sleeps like the dead,and I watch her all night. She seems small in my king-size bed. Vulnerable. I can’t get enough of just observing her chest rise and fall.

If I were any smarter, I’d let her go. I’m terrible for her, and she’s poison to me. I killed someone for her last night and I don’t give a shit. I’d do it again any day. We’re both toxic in our own ways, and this thing between us is unhealthy, unnatural. Relationships aren’t supposed to be this pernicious.

I won’t though. It’s far too late for me to let her go. She’s made a mark deep inside me, tattooing her name in blood on the walls of my heart when I wasn’t looking.

I didn’t let myself think of what losing her might have meant last night, but now in the stillness of dawn, I see it. My world without Erica Simons. A constant darkness without hope. I would never let anyone that close to me again, not after losing her.

I knew I was obsessed with her. I knew I wanted to own her, call her mine, shape a future intertwined with hers. I didn’t realize I loved her. Love is supposed to be tender, gentle, and good. Mine is dark as ink, tinged with violence and demands. I want her cared for, content and safe, almost as much as I want her to be mine. I’m selfish and possessive, but it’s love all the same.

She’s barely moved all night, but she starts to fuss under the covers, turning to one side, then the other.

---