chapter 38
Elena's POV:
Sebastian fell silent for a long moment, his fingers unconsciously threading through my hair with a gentleness that seemed almost absent-minded.
The weight of my question hung between us in the darkness, and I could feel the careful consideration he was giving his response.
"I just knew that you were meant to be mine."
The possessive certainty in his voice should have frightened me, should have triggered every instinct to pull away from such an extreme declaration.
Instead, I found myself experiencing a complex mixture of reactions—part of me recoiled from the audacity of his claim, from the way he spoke of ownership as if it were a natural law, yet another part of me felt a dangerous flutter of satisfaction at being so completely wanted, so thoroughly needed.
After our conversation lapsed into contemplative silence, Sebastian's fingers found the small furrow between my brows, tracing it lightly as if he could smooth away whatever thoughts were troubling me.
His voice, when it came, held a note of uncertainty that I'd rarely heard from him before.
"Your nightmares," he said carefully, his thumb brushing across the spot he'd been touching. "Are they... are they about me? "
The question caught me off guard, and I realized with a start that he was genuinely worried about being the source of my fears, the monster that haunted my sleep.
There was something almost heartbreaking about his concern, about the way he seemed to brace himself for an answer that might confirm his worst suspicions about himself.
I shook my head against his chest, feeling the tension in his body as he waited for my response.
"No," I said quietly, my voice floating softly. "Not you. Just... things from when I was little. Old memories that won't stay buried."
I could feel Sebastian's sharp attention focus on me, could sense his careful stillness as he waited to see if I would elaborate.
Perhaps it was the late hour and the cocoon of privacy that the darkness provided, or perhaps it was the emotional vulnerability that pregnancy had brought to the surface, making my usual defenses feel thinner and less reliable. Maybe it was simply the fear of tomorrow's confrontation with my father that made the past feel more pressing, more urgent to voice.
Whatever the reason, I found myself speaking before I could second-guess the impulse.
"I dreamed about... the happy family I used to have," I said, the words emerging hesitantly into the space between us.
My voice took on a softer, more distant quality as I let myself drift back to those precious early memories, to a time when my world had been whole and safe and filled with love.
I told him about my mother's gentle hands guiding mine as she taught me to mix colors on a palette, about weekend trips to art galleries where she would crouch down to my eye level and point out the way light played across a painting's surface.
I spoke of my father as he used to be—warm and laughing, still capable of joy—making elaborate birthday cakes and reading bedtime stories with different voices for each character.
But as I continued speaking, my tone gradually grew heavier, weighted down by the memories of loss that followed. "After their marriage broke, it was like all the color drained out of our house," I whispered, the words coming out barely audible. "Everything became gray and empty."
I described the desperate decision that led me to the Sterling estate. I spoke of my stepmother's cold assessment when we first arrived, the way she looked at me as if I were an inconvenience to be tolerated.
"Vivienne made it clear from the beginning that I didn't belong," I continued, my voice growing quieter with each word. "Every day was a reminder that I was an outsider living on their charity, that I had no real place in their family. And my father... he had no real voice in that household either."
Sebastian's hand had stilled against my back, and I could feel the tension radiating through his body as he listened, could sense the carefully controlled anger building beneath his silence.
"I always felt like I was floating," I admitted, the words coming out in a barely perceptible whisper. "Like I was a ghost drifting around the edges of their world, never quite solid enough to grab onto anything. "
The long silence that followed felt heavy with unspoken promises and half-formed threats.
Finally, Sebastian shifted, gently turning my face upward until I was looking directly into his eyes, their depths shadowed but intent in the pale moonlight filtering through the windows.
When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of an oath, each word deliberate and unshakeable.
"You have me now, Elena," he said, the simple statement carrying more gravity than any elaborate declaration. "You're not alone."
The kiss he pressed to my forehead was gentle, almost reverent, carrying with it a tenderness.
His words stirred something deep and complicated within me, a tangle of emotions that I couldn't easily sort through or name.
Part of me felt a dangerous flutter of warmth at being so completely claimed, so thoroughly wanted by someone who had the power to make such sweeping promises. There was something seductive about the idea of being at the center of someone's universe, of never again having to worry about being cast aside or forgotten.
Yet another part of me recognized this for what it was—another form of cage, albeit one lined with silk and cushioned with devotion.
In the end, I could only manage a small, tight nod, my voice coming out hoarse and uncertain when I finally spoke.
"Okay," I whispered, the single word carrying far more weight than it should have been able to bear.
He didn't say anything, though, simply held me tighter, as if he could anchor me to him through sheer physical proximity.
---
The eastern sky was beginning to show the first pale hints of dawn when I finally stirred in Sebastian's arms, consciousness returning slowly along with the awareness of what today would bring.
Sebastian was immediately alert as I shifted against him, his eyes opening to focus on my face. "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep as his arm tightened around me reflexively.
"I need to call my father," I said, my voice steady and matter-of-fact despite the anxiety churning in my stomach.
The number felt strange under my fingertips as I dialed, after so many months of absence.
When the phone began to ring, each tone felt like a countdown.
"Hello?" The voice that answered was gentle and achingly familiar, instantly making my eyes sting with the threat of tears.