Chapter 217

[ 1,012 words ]

Emilia’s POV

It was dead silent. After a long time, Sebastian finally opened his mouth.

“Maybe you think the answer doesn’t matter to you, but it matters to me. If I don’t untie this knot in my chest, I’ll never be at peace.”

I shoved him away, hard. “What’s eating at you isn’t that she betrayed you. It’s that she never got to be your wife!”

“Emilia!”

His anger flared. “Why are you twisting my words? You know damn well that’s not what I meant!”

“Am I?” I shot back, my voice cutting. “From where I’m standing, that’s exactly what you meant. I know you, Sebastian. You think marriage is like changing clothes. You’d toss me aside and take her back the second you had the chance!”

“That’s enough!”

He lunged forward, pinning me beneath him on the couch. The heat of his body pressed down over me, suffocating.

“Don’t ever say that again…”

His voice was hot against my skin, his breath mixing with mine. For a second I froze. Then I started thrashing, fighting to break out of his grip. “Let me go! Go find your precious Abigail! I don’t care anymore! Just go!”

“Don’t say her name again!” he roared, his weight bearing down harder. His legs trapped mine, and his hand came down on my backside with a sharp slap. “I’ve told you. You’re my wife now!”

“But the one living in your head isn’t your wife…” I kept fighting. My collar slipped open from the struggle, baring my shoulder. “Let me go. I hate you!”

The words “I hate you” seemed to detonate something in Sebastian. His green eyes blazed with a fury I’d never seen before. He flipped me over, hauled me into his arms, and crashed his mouth down on mine with bruising force.

The kiss was violent, possessive, almost punishing. I tasted anger and desperation on his lips.

And I hated it. Not because he was too possessive. I’d always called that his flaw, the way he held on too tight. But I understood him now. Because I was exactly the same. Love was too small a room. There was no space in it for a third person.

I couldn’t stand Abigail living rent-free in his head any more than he could stand another man’s hands on me.

Without thinking, I bit down hard on his tongue, hoping the pain would make him let go.

It didn’t.

Instead, Sebastian groaned, a low, primal sound, but he didn’t pull away. He kissed me deeper, harder, the metallic taste of blood spreading between our mouths. The kiss turned bitter, copper and salt and something that tasted like broken promises.

Tears spilled from my eyes, hot and unwanted.

I hated him so much. But Goddess help me, I loved him too. That was the worst part. Loving someone so much that even their cruelty couldn’t make you stop.

My strength was failing, my resolve crumbling under the weight of it all.

Sebastian must have felt my tears, because his body went still. His lips slowed, softened, and then he pulled back to look at me. His thumb brushed across my wet cheek, and his expression shifted from fury to something raw and open.

“You’re my fated mate, Emilia,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. His forehead pressed against mine, and I could feel him trembling. “Please. Trust me.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. And I didn’t want to. The words stuck in my throat like shards of glass.

He searched my face for a long moment, those green eyes pleading in a way his words never could. Then he let out a shaky breath. “Let me carry you to the bath.”

“I can walk by myself.” My voice came out cold.

“Emilia…”

“I said I can walk.” I pushed against his chest, and this time he let me go.

I stood on shaky legs, refusing to look at him as I walked toward the bathroom. My lips still throbbed from his kiss, tasting of blood and bitterness. The door clicked shut behind me, and I finally let myself slide down against it to the floor.

“He’s an idiot,” Eve muttered in my head. “But he’s our idiot. And he does love us, you know.”

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this,” I whispered.

“No. But sometimes it does anyway.”

I stayed in the bathtub until the water turned cold, trying to wash away the confusion and the pain. But some stains run too deep.

The next day, after turning it over in my head all morning, I made a decision. If there was anyone left who knew the answer Sebastian had been chasing in vain, anyone besides Abigail, then maybe Damien Zordon did.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the number Damien Zordon had given me. He picked up almost instantly.

“Hello?”

“It’s Emilia. Emilia Taylor… well, Simons now. We need to talk.”

There was a pause. Then, “Alright. When and where?”

“Tonight? There’s a cafe on Fifth Street.”

“I’ll be there.”

He didn’t ask what it was about. Maybe he already knew.

That evening, I got to the cafe early. I sat by the window, watching the street outside, my fingers drumming nervously on the table.

When Damien walked in, I recognized him at once. He wore a leather jacket and dark jeans, a guitar case slung over his shoulder. He looked like he’d just come from a gig, or was on his way to one.

I could see it now. Why Abigail might have chosen him. He had that artist vibe, that dangerous charm.

“Have you been waiting long?” Damien set his guitar down and slid into the seat across from me, flashing a bright smile.

“Not really. What do you want to drink?”

I pushed the menu toward him.

“Cappuccino sounds good.” He barely glanced at it before handing it back.

I waved the waiter over. “Two cappuccinos, please.”

“So.” Damien leaned back in his chair, studying me with interest. “Why did you ask me here? I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”

If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.