Gold Weaver | ✓

fünfzehn

FÜNFZEHN

I reeled back in shock. In horror.

I prayed it was a trick of the mind, that those molten gold eyes had managed to engrave themselves into my mind and now I saw them in other people's. But no, it wasn't some horrid illusion, some sordid trick.

"How could you?" I asked, already feeling my emotions overwhelm me as I began to shake. He reached forward to touch me. "No, don't come near me. You monster."

He flinched, like I'd slapped him across the face. And by god, was I tempted.

"It was orders," he said, like that was meant to make me forgive everything. "I didn't know you then, not like I do now—"

"As in you hadn't fucked me yet?"

"I didn't know you as a person," he told me, eyes intense and unwavering as they latched onto mine. "I knew you only as a name, as a task."

"But you knew when you came to my room that first night. Why? Why did you come? Guilt? Or were you preying on the vulnerable?"

"When I realised what was happening, I came to your room to try to help you escape."

I scoffed. "How did that work out for you?"

"But then I met you and I knew I couldn't let you go, so instead I helped you in another way," he said, uniform fitting him perfectly, sculpting his toned physique. I drew my mind away from his body.

"You kept me trapped here so you could fuck me?" I asked, feeling the room begin to spin. "You made me miss out on four months of my life because you wanted to get laid?"

"It was wrong," he admitted, freely. "I know it was and there's no excuse. I saw you and I felt something. It'd been so long. I made an impulsive decision. But it wasn't because I wanted to get laid."

I stepped away from him, hardly able to function if we got any closer. "Why didn't you let me leave after we'd first had sex?"

He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up so that it fell about his face. "It was never just about sex with you, Eleanor."

"No," I said, forcing myself to meet his eye. "It was about lying and manipulating. Sex was just a bonus."

"I never lied," he said. "It was so bad, I know—"

"It was deranged!"

"I shouldn't have done it. But you made me feel things I'd buried so long ago. You made me feel, Eleanor. I didn't feel like I had to hide apart of myself from you. I could be myself around you without worrying about judgement. You were— are— compassionate, driven, empathetic. You're the greatest woman I've ever met and I wouldn't have wanted to spend these four months with anyone but you."

My mind was in scrambles and I needed to keep it on track. I was angry. Fuming. I'd never wanted to throttle someone as I did him now, not even my father when he'd made that stupid claim. Okay, maybe not that much.

But when he told me these things, the things I'd been dreaming of him telling me for what felt like so long, I felt my resolve waver.