Page 58 of Ruling Scar
He goes into the kitchen, but I gravitate toward Albert, settling next to him on the couch.
“Do you want anything?” he asks.
“Water please.”
The fridge shuts and a cabinet door opens. He sets the glass on a coaster and sits down beside me. There’s plenty of space on the other side of Albert, but he stretches his arm out on the back of the couch.
I’m not nestled into him per se, but he’s awfully close.
“Thank you,” I say for the water. “Was Leopold an ass?”
His eyes don’t leave the basketball game. “You’ve said his name far too many times in the past five minutes for my liking.”
“He’s not backing down is he?”
Elijah called it correctly when I first came to him. Most men would take a look at the oldest Zimin brother and hightail it. Leopold’s doubled down.
My hands run through Albert’s thick fur as I consider it all.
Elijah can offer me the best protection and I don’t mind Ivan. It’s probably because he’s not one of my father’s puppets and he knows about Leopold.
I don’t want my parent's help and protection, but I’m desperate for Elijah’s. What is wrong with me? It’s a complete contradiction. But Elijah isn’t hiding me away. If Mom finds out I’ll be the princess locked in a castle until she decides she’s dealt with the threat however she sees fit.
“Some things take finessing. Don’t worry about Leopold.”
I don’t know when he inched closer, but Elijah’s fingers lightly brush my shoulder. They bring weight to his steady reassurances.
“If you say so.” My phone lights up with a message. Holy hell, Ren is worried if she took the time to text.
“Your friends,” Elijah says lightly.
“I’m not taking any questions regarding them.”
His lips twitch in amusement. “I’m not asking for trade secrets. You’re really friends with them?”
“Yes, really.” I’d like for people to stop sounding so shocked when they find out I have friends.
His thumb runs against my shoulder and the skin underneath my sweater lights up. “I’m simply curious about your life, Leonora. You’re mistaken in thinking every question I ask is out of mockery.”
Something important happens on the TV. The crowd’s excited, but I don’t know why.
“You typically make it your mission to mock people.”
He frowns. “Not you. Never you.”
It’s my turn to frown. “Are you forgetting our childhood?”
On my eighth birthday, I got chocolate ice cream all over my face and he laughed. One time I ran into a door and he wouldn’t stop talking about it. He made fun of me for mispronouncing the word ‘southern’.
“It’s easy to laugh at how adorable you are, but I’m not mocking you.”
I don’t know what he means by adorable but I guess in all fairness we were little kids.
“Can I shower?”
“Of course.” He nods toward the bedroom.
“Is there a guest bathroom I can use?”
