Eleanor > Recent Status Updates

A rhythm.
A beating heart.
Ransom's lashes fluttered, his chest bowing under her touch.
A breath!
And another.
Then a name. 'Seraphine.'
Sera let out a sob. 'Bastian?'
He whispered, 'I love you, too.’

Tightening his hold on Seraphine, Ransom backed away from his friends, his family, the people who once meant everything to him.
'Don't make us chase you.’ Frustration rippled in Lark's voice.
'Make your own choices. And I'll make mine.'
‘We need the girl, Ransom.'
Seraphine raised her middle finger.
Ransom palmed the hilt of his sword. 'Over my dead body.’

Seraphine sagged against him. "You came back,' she rasped. 'I knew you'd come back.’
'I never meant to leave you,' he said, sliding his hands through her hair, 'Forgive me, Sera.'
'Forgiven.'

Lark squared his shoulders, and Ransom might have decked him right then if Nadia's voice hadn't rung out at that very moment.
'Lark?' she cried. 'Hell's teeth. Tell me I'm not dreaming.’
Lark's attention shifted, the fight leaving his body like a sigh as Nadia ran to him.

Ransom was here, too. Stalking through the smoke like a predator on the hunt. Sera had never seen such rage before. But when their eyes met across the room, and he saw that she was still standing - still breathing - relief blanched the violence from his face. Raising a hand to his chest, he clutched at the space above his heart, like he was trying to stop it from leaping through his ribcage.

Her chains twisting and clanging, the girl pitched forward, her voice so small the wind almost snatched it away. 'Bastian?’
That name - the sight of her - was like an arrow through his heart. 'Anouk?'

The acolyte stared up at him, her hazel eyes growing.
They were shot through with red and rimmed in the dark shadows of endless sleepless nights, but he would have known them anywhere. They had chased him through a thousand nightmares, haunted him for ten long years.

She heard the smile in his voice. ‘Whatever it takes. Wherever you choose.'
‘You,' she whispered, as her lids drooped. ‘Wherever you are, is where I want to be.'

His reply came at once.
‘I’m already running, spitfire. Tell me where to go.'

He lay down beside her, and she turned into him, thinking of her life far beyond this night.
He gazed down at her. 'A kingdom for your thoughts.’
They had been here once before. Now they were here again.
'Run away with me, Bastian?’ The imploring look on her face said the rest, the enormity of the plea too heavy to voice.

She shook it oft, a new thought belatedly occurring to her. 'Did I hurt you?'
He shook his head. ‘How could you hurt me, Scraphine?’

The world dimmed to the honeyed light of his eyes, and the way his thick dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. 'There is no Order, no allegiance, no amount of power that's worth that.’ He lifted a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, trailing his finger along her jaw. Voice hoarse, he said, ‘I am not a good man, Seraphine, but I can be good to you.’

He canted his head to look at her. ‘I'll always wait for you, Seraphine.’
She blinked up at him, the words tripping out before she could stop them. ‘I thought that once before.’
His brows knitted. 'Things are different now.’
'Are they?’ she said, her hope a whisper between them.
‘Now I know what it's like to go without you.’

‘You were jealous,' she said, hooking her finger around the chain on his waistcoat.
'Obviously.’
'And we don't kill people out of jealousy.’
His brows lowered. ‘There's a first time for everything.’

'I am calm,’ he said, working to keep his voice even. 'I'm so fucking calm.'
'And so convincing,’ she teased, working the dagger from his grip and sliding it back into his pocket. He let her do it, watching her hands with rapt attention. 'I told you I would be all right.’

Ransom was vibrating with rage when Sera reached him. She lunged, pressing her hands against his chest. 'Don't you dare.’ She had to shout over the music to be heard. 'Remember our deal!'
Grimacing, he paused to look down at her.
‘He put his fucking hands on you.'
'A finger,' she said, pushing him back.
He conceded a step. 'That's one finger too many, spitfire.’

He nodded, still watching her in that way that made her legs feel like jelly. He plucked a red feather from the end of her scarf and stuck it in the front pocket of his waistcoat. She was surprised by how much she liked it, how it made him look like he belonged to her.
"Stay close to me tonight.' His eyes took on a new intensity, glimpses of the hardened Dagger already peeking through. ‘No matter what.'

‘What about weapons?'
‘More than you can possibly imagine, spitfire.'
'Let's hope you won't need them.'

In the half-light, he seemed a little pained. 'You look..’
'Do not make fun of me,' she warned him.
'Like a dream,' he said quietly.
She blinked up at him in surprise. 'One of your nightmares, you mean?"
A smile danced along his lips. 'Definitely not.’

She felt Ransom's eyes on her the minute she stepped onto the street. He moved as if shoved by an invisible hand, his shadow stepping into light, until they were so close that she had to remind herself to breathe.

They were almost back at the Paramour when they ran headlong into Ransom. He was standing outside, scouring the street like he had lost something.
Sera was running so fast she skidded right into him. He flung his hands out to steady her, his eyes darting, frantic. 'All right?'

‘Bram was a pig. When I went outside to get some fresh air, he followed me. Cornered me...
I couldn't get free of him. When he pushed me to the ground, I screamed.’
'And I killed him,' said Caruso, looking pointedly at Val, like he was expecting her to say thank you.
She cut her eyes at him. ‘Ruthless motherfucker.'
There was something in it that almost felt like a thank you.

'Let me kiss you,’ he said, breathless.
Or I'll die.
'But your marks?'
‘Forget the marks.’
She clucked her tongue. ‘So impatient.’
'Yes,' he said, tugging her mouth to his.

Smiling coyly, she lowered her head and licked the hollow of his collarbone, following another whorl. His skin prickled, the mark dissolving under her wet mouth. His back bowed, and he grabbed hold of her, sliding his hands into her hair.

She lowered her head, until her lips hovered an inch from his own.
Ransom's breath punched out of him, all traces of his composure gone in a blink.
‘Would you like to experiment on me, spitfire?'
She toyed with the first button of his shirt, deftly easing it open.
‘Would you be amenable?'
The word was ragged. 'Always.’

‘It's all right,' he said, gently tipping her chin. Her lips were so close, soft and plump and begging to be kissed.
She hesitated. ‘I don't want to hurt you.’
'You won't.'
‘What makes you so sure.’
'Because you don't want to.’

She whispered his true name like a prayer. He wanted her to say it again and again, to pull him back to that version of himself.
‘You like that,' she murmured. 'I can see it in your eyes?'
'It does something to my chest,' he murmured. 'Or maybe that's just you.’

She huffed a laugh. ‘Why do I find that hard to believe?’
‘Because you insist on seeing the worst in me?' ‘No.’ She rose up, propping her head on her hand. ‘The real trouble is, I see the best in you. I see Bastian.’

‘I’d like to visit the orange groves in the east, walk the winding white cliffs and smell the wildflowers on the coast. If the weather holds, I'd take a boat out to the sea caves and see what inspiration I might find there.'
She hmm'd. ‘Just you and your paintbrush? How romantic.’
And you.
In another life.

He turned to look at her. Her eyes were wide, riveted. ‘Copper for your thoughts.'
She nipped at her bottom lip. ‘I was just thinking of how tired I am of arguing with you.’
'I suggest a truce.' He tugged her closer by her belt loop, until their legs were touching, the rest of the courtyard falling away.