Chapter 10 10. Chapter

Aurora

The room key clicked metallically inside the lock, echoing far too loudly in my venom-fogged mind. Elijah shoved the door shut behind us with a force that made the frame tremble. The sound felt final—like a stone lid sliding over a tomb. We were sealed in, trapped together, isolated from the world by four thin motel walls. He lowered me onto the faded, soft carpet, and the first-aid kit dropped beside me with a dull thump.

The moment he let go, the absence of his arms made the room sway violently. The venom flooded my head with a spinning, vertigo-inducing heaviness. Standing was an act of stubborn pride, not strength. My legs gave a warning shudder and nearly buckled before I managed to catch myself against the wall.

Elijah didn’t hesitate, not even for a heartbeat. His gaze swept across the dim room—calculating, cold, assessing every possible threat, every escape route. Then his attention fixed on me again. The anger that had blazed in him earlier had not vanished; it still coiled inside his posture like a restrained storm. But purpose had overtaken fury now. He was focused. Controlled. Deadly determined.

“The venom is severe, Aurora,” he said, voice edged with clinical coldness. “I don’t know why you react this strongly, but we can’t delay treatment. The bite on your neck could become infected, and your clothing is contaminated with vampire remains.”

“I can take care of myself,” I argued, though even I could hear the unsteadiness betraying me. My red hair clung to my cheeks, plastered there by sweat, blood, and exhaustion.

“We’ve already seen how well that works,” he replied with a razor-thin smirk. His hand closed around my arm again, iron-strong, and he dragged me toward the bathroom. “You can barely stay upright. Your defiance ends here. You will do as I say.”

My spine locked. Every muscle rebelled at his command.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“As you wish.” His tone was deceptively mild—right before he moved with vampiric speed. The shower knobs snapped open, filling the room with a rush of hot steam. In the next instant he had pulled me directly in front of the bathroom mirror, never releasing my arm. “If you won’t cooperate, the clothes come off. Now.”

Helpless fury surged through me. My head throbbed; the venom was spreading faster. My weapons were out of reach, my strength a mockery of what it should have been.

“You’re not stripping me,” I spat, shoving him with all the force I could muster. But it was like pushing a stone pillar.

Elijah’s expression darkened, a shadow falling across his aristocratic features. His fingers gripped the zipper of my hunting suit.

“This is contaminated,” he growled, his voice a low thunder building in his chest. “If you keep wearing it, you will bleed out before dawn.”

He dragged the zipper down in one swift, merciless motion. The suit fell open to my waist.

My breath caught—equal parts rage and humiliation.

“Stop struggling,” he hissed, eyes flashing like sharpened ice. “My intentions are clean. Do not imagine anything else.”

But I did struggle. Desperately. Pointlessly. My suit had been my armor, my second skin, the last shred of control I had left—and now it slid away under his strength like nothing.

Elijah tore it from my body with ease. The damp, blood-stained material hit the floor in a heavy heap.

I stood before him in nothing but my underwear—exposed, trembling, neck throbbing, bruises blooming across my ribs and arms like cruel fingerprints. Shame washed over me in a choking wave. I was at the mercy of a creature who used to command armies, and now played the reluctant caretaker of the girl who despised him.

“Under the shower,” he ordered. “Now.”

His voice wasn’t angry anymore. It wasn’t even commanding. It was mechanical, like a weapon obeying its own protocol.

I stepped into the bathroom. Elijah followed as closely as my shadow. Warm water cascaded over me, washing the blood from my skin, loosening clumps of vampire ash from my hair, sending streaks of dirt spiraling down the drain. My body shook beneath the stream—whether from the venom or from the fear, I couldn’t tell.

Without a word, Elijah gathered my discarded clothing and threw it out the bathroom door. The soft smack of fabric on the hallway floor was strangely final.

The dizziness worsened. My vision blurred. The world pulsed at the edges like it was trying to fold in on itself.

Elijah lifted a clean towel. His hands were firm but controlled—too gentle for the monster he was, too clinical for a caretaker, and yet too possessive for either. He dried my skin with deliberate motions, then tilted my chin upward. His fingers brushed my throat with cold precision as he found the puncture wounds. He disinfected them; the sting cut through me like a blade, but pain had become a familiar companion.

“Look at yourself,” he murmured while wrapping the bandage around my neck. But this time there was no arrogance, no mockery—only a dark, unsettling fascination. “A single vampire bite nearly killed you. That is… not normal.”

When he finished, he wrapped me in a fresh towel and lifted me again as though I weighed nothing. Back in the motel room, he laid me on the clean bed, carefully spreading my red hair across the pillow. The blanket slipped over me like a warm veil, a comfort I did not want but was too weak to reject.

“Do not move,” Elijah said as he straightened. His once elegant suit hung in tatters of blood, dirt, and ash. “I need to clean myself. And remember—you live only because I need you.”

He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Running water began to echo through the silence.

I lay helpless on the bed, wrapped in false softness, my body aching, my neck throbbing beneath the fresh bandage. My greatest enemy—the creature who could kill me with a thought—was only a few steps away behind a thin door.

I had no strength left to rise. No power to fight.

Only one thing remained—my stubborn, unbreakable defiance.

The last piece of me the venom could not touch.