Chapter 125: Chapter 125
Amara’s finger trailed down the length of his spine. She drew it a deep breath, and drew it down slowly, like she was writing her name on him.
The room was quiet except for the faint rustle of sheets. Elias lay on his stomach, one arm crooked beneath the pillow, the other sprawled across the bed as though he had claimed every inch of it.
The morning light spilled across his skin in streaks, kissing the ridges of his firm toned muscle and shadowing the ink that sprawled down his back.
Her gaze lingered on the tatoo. The black serpent coiled tightly around a dagger was just so... the details were so sharp that it almost looked alive. It wasn’t just a tattoo. It seemed like a warning carved into flesh. A claim, the same way Elias claimed everything he touched.
Amara swallowed, her fingertip brushing the serpent’s head.
"You’re staring," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep.
"You’re not exactly easy to ignore," she replied softly, not lifting her hand.
Elias turned his head enough to catch her in his peripheral. A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth. "You like it?" he asked.
Her thumb pressed lightly against the inked dagger’s hilt. "It feels like it means something."
"It does," he said simply, and then rolled onto his back with the fluid ease of someone who knew his body was a weapon. The tattoo rippled with the shift of his muscles before it disappeared into the sheets. His hand shot out, catching her wrist, and holding it against his chest. "But I’m not going to tell you what."
Her pulse jumped where his fingers held her. His grip was firm but not painful. He didn’t need to squeeze harder. His touch already carried weight.
"Then why let me look?" she whispered.
"Because I want you to."
Amara didn’t know how he managed it, but even half-awake, Elias made her feel like she was teetering on the edge of something dangerous. Her chest tightened. She lowered her gaze. She parted her lips to speak, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Elias’s grip on her eased. He didn’t move to take the phone, but his eyes followed the sound.
Amara reached for it. Her heart skipped when she saw the name on the screen. She unlocked the phone quickly, shielding it with her body as she read.
Celeste: We need to talk. Paris. Girl, this is a dream.
Her heart jumped. Paris. The word alone was enough to stir the adrenaline she had buried deep. She typed quickly, her fingers trembling just enough for Elias to notice.
"What’s that?" he asked lazily, though his tone carried a sharp edge beneath the softness.
Amara locked the phone before looking at him. "Just Celeste."
Elias propped himself up on one elbow, watching her carefully. "She doesn’t seem to like me."
The way he said it made her throat go dry. He didn’t sound wounded. He sounded like he wanted to confirm what he already knew.
Amara forced a small laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "She doesn’t really know you."
"People don’t need to know me to decide what they feel." His gaze pinned her in place. "And she’s decided."
Her chest tightened. Elias was too perceptive. Too dangerous with the way he read people like open books, and she hated how easily he could peel away her layers.
"She’s protective," Amara murmured. "Of me."
"And she thinks you need protecting from me?"
The silence stretched too long.
Amara’s fingers curled into the sheets. She didn’t dare admit it. Not when she knew exactly what he was capable of doing to her mind and body, and not when her own heart betrayed her with how fast it raced whenever he was near.
Instead, she lifted her chin, meeting his stare. "Celeste doesn’t understand. She judges a bit too quickly."
Elias tilted his head, studying her as though he was trying to decide if she was lying or just naïve. Then, slowly, he smirked. "You’re covering for her."
"I’m not—"
"You are." He reached out, brushing his knuckles across her cheek with disarming gentleness. "But I like that you’re loyal. Even when it’s inconvenient."
The touch burned more than it soothed, and Amara realized her entire body had gone tense beneath his gaze.
Even the thin strap of her dress fell from her shoulder.n
Her phone buzzed again. Elias’s eyes flicked to it, then back to her. He didn’t ask this time, but the weight of his silence demanded an answer.
Amara pressed the phone to her chest and whispered, "It’s nothing."
Elias leaned in, his lips close enough that she could feel his breath. "You should know by now, Amara," he murmured, "nothing is ever just nothing."
He smiled, and returned back to his position.
The room felt dangerous, and tight. Not because Elias was doing anything. He wasn’t. He was just there, leaning back against the headboard, one arm draped carelessly over his bent knee, watching her in that way that made her feel seen and stripped all at once.
He hadn’t said another word about Celeste, hadn’t asked again. But the silence was worse than the question. Silence gave him room to think. Somehow, she didn’t whatever could happen between them to go down without a trial, just because Celeste doesn’t like him.
Amara dragged her nails lightly over her thigh, a nervous tic she barely noticed. Celeste’s warning looped in her mind, louder each time. And so did her suspicion about Elias.
Elias shifted again, and her traitor body betrayed her again. Just the small movement—the flex of his arm, the way the sheets slipped lower on his waist—was enough to stir the air between them. Her chest tightened.
God, she hated this. She hated how her fear and her desire lived in the same skin, tangled together until she couldn’t tell one from the other.
"Amara." His voice cut through her thoughts, low, and steady. The kind of voice that made you look whether you wanted to or not.
She met his eyes too fast, like she’d been caught.
"What’s in your head?" he asked, deceptively soft.
Her lips parted. Nothing came out.
Because, what should she say? That she was scared but didn’t know if she was more scared of leaving or staying? That she couldn’t breathe when he looked at her like this?
She swallowed hard. "Nothing."
The corner of his mouth curved. It was not quite a smile. It was more like the sharp edge of one. The kind that knew when someone was lying.
He leaned forward then, slow, and deliberate. He leaned forward in the way you might approach something you already owned. His hand came to rest on the side of her face, his thumb dragging over her cheekbone, and her breath hitched.
"Nothing," he repeated, his voice a low drawl now. "I don’t believe that."
Her body was trembling before she even realized it. Not visibly, and. ot enough for anyone else to notice but Elias wasn’t anyone else. His thumb paused at her jaw, and the pressure was a little firmer, as if reminding her of something she hadn’t agreed to but had already surrendered.
The intimacy was suffocating. The danger was worse. Like Celeste said, this looks premeditated. But what if it wasn’t?
Deep down, Amara knew Elias didn’t have to raise his voice, didn’t have to make threats, didn’t even have to ask twice. He already had her cornered with just his presence, and with just his eyes.
And the scariest part wasn’t that she wanted to run.
It was that she didn’t.