Heiress in Distress

•Chapter 22•

I lift my finger and begin scratching the edge to peel it off completely, oddly disturbed by its partial removal.
They have fallen into a different kind of silence, that makes me scratch the sticker slowly for pastime, which works because I don't notice Elias has moved until it's late.

"What's wrong ?" He asks, the sigh that follows his question suggests his close proximity, which makes me gasp, my heart jumping.

Teeth clenched, I move, rounding him and the bed, to Clara's other side, without casting him a single glance.

I plaster the gentle smile I've had reserved for Clara when she wakes up, reaching over for Élise, "You need to rest,"

Clara smiles softly, tucking Élise to her side and covering her body with the sheet, "I want her to sleep next to me tonight, is that alright ?"

Her slightly raised eyebrows, hopeful look, and endearing request make my heart pang slightly but in a good way, "Of course,"

"Goodnight to you two," I tell her, squeezing her hand gently, before turning and leaving the room.

The room Clara is placed in has three doors, similar to the one Élise and I sleep in; one leads directly to our room, which I've had locked ever since we came here yesterday, the other is the bathroom's, and the third leads to the hallway, that I need to take to reach my room.

The floor is carpeted, which explains why I haven't heard or felt any presence until my upper arm is gently grabbed, effectively stopping my eager feet from going further.

"You didn't answer my question," He says.

I sharply pull my arm away from him, but I might have underestimated his gentle hold, because my arm hasn't been freed.

He reaches a finger under my chin, "Hey-"

I don't allow him to turn my face to look at him as I immediately cock my head the opposite way.
He remains silent but regards me with curiosity -I know that because I sense rather than see the frown mounting his features.

My fist is itching so bad and it takes every ounce of willpower to not submit to the violence behind the action.

"What is it that I have done that's angered you so much with me?" He asks, suddenly sounding innocent.

This time, I actually turn to him, furious at his pathetic show of obliviousness.
When looking back into the issue, he is to be held accountable because despite the intervention of both our prides, we can not deny the chemistry.

Also, he is the one responsible for the thriving of whatever it is that's between us, since he was the one who nurtured it, through each and every attempt he made at approaching me with his charming gait.

Which leads me to ask the question; why would he sign up for the hunt if he's already settled with someone ?
The thought makes my eyes wonder to his ring finger -his very naked ring finger.

A dreadful thought about me misinterpreting things makes me falter for a second, readjusting my focus.

"Talk to me," He says, softly.

I grit my teeth to stop my tongue from spewing the nonsense that's going inside my head.
If I'm mistaken about their relationship, there's no denying the position they were in wasn't of friends. I know what I saw, and it was nothing platonic.

My mouth has this defiance to my brain sometimes, "What is Juniper to you?"

I've made sure to ask the question all while keeping a weather eye on his features.
I watch as his expression morphs from surprise -at my finally speaking- to confusion -displayed in a deeply set frown- to a smile. Then, a laugh.