Page 82 of Wilting Violets

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It should’ve made me happy.

Except it didn’t.

Because it shouldn’t.

“But…” I said when he’d stopped talking.

His hands clutched my hips harder. He didn’t reply.

“But you won’t,” I expanded for him. My tone was sharp to offset the hurt in my heart.

“I can’t,” he said through his teeth.

My throat burned again, and I wished for antacids and maybe a different life. One that still contained Elden but without all the complications.

I tried to climb off of him, but his hands tightened at my hips, not letting me go. I was disappointed and happy, taking it as a sign that maybe, just maybe, he would fight for me. Us.

“You can,” I argued, my voice low. “Wecan. I’ll make sure that Swiss doesn’t hurt you.”

Elden’s hold tightened for a second longer before he flipped us so he was hovering on top of me, his body pressed into mine, caging me in. Our lips were inches apart.

“I don’t give a fuck who hurts me,” he exhaled heavily. “If this was about what might happen to me, I would’ve claimed you publicly in a fucking second.”

“But you didn’t,” I shot back.

“I didn’t,” he agreed in a soft voice.

I stiffened, or at least I tried to. My body betrayed me. Everything softened and relaxed under Elden’s touch.

“Want to claim you, Violet,” he stroked the side of my face. “More than anything in this fuckin’ world. But it’s not the time. Not right now.”

I pulled my lip between my teeth, eager to argue with him, to scream about how this wasn’t fair, that he was making excuses.

Except he wasn’t. He was right. Not now with my mother happily married, with a new baby, the club experiencing peace and harmony.

I didn’t have time to argue because his lips were on mine.

We didn’t speak the rest of the night. Although maybe we should’ve.

We spent another full day in that motel room.

Elden only left to get food.

I did not put on pants.

We did not speak of anything outside of the room. We got to experience the unexpected pleasure of waking up together. Of eating meals together. Watching movies together. Sharing beers.

I texted Sariah to tell her where I was, and she sent back a plethora of very explicit texts that I gathered was her form of approval.

It was heaven.

Except heaven didn’t exist. Both heaven and hell were here on earth. Us humans brought them both upon each other. And that’s what it was with Elden and me... Heaven and hell, intermingled, unable to separate one from the other.

“Where does the club think you are?” I asked him in the early hours of the morning we were going to leave.

“They don’t think I’m anywhere.” He drew lazy patterns on my back. We’d been desperate, feral for each other during the hours we’d spent in this room.

Now we’d lapsed into something different. Something less wild but something precious. Something comfortable. Intimate. A glimpse into a life we might’ve had.


Tags: Anne Malcom Romance