Pim removed her touch.
I crossed my arms.
And Selix drove us to the one place where all my secrets were hidden.
If one only knew where to look.
Chapter Twelve
______________________________
Pim
ELDER’S LESSONS NEVER stopped coming.
First, showing me I’d stayed with him of my own free will.
Second, revealing I had just enough impurity to take what wasn’t mine.
Third, tutoring me that I could like and loath him all while suffering every other emotion known to mankind.
Fourth, teaching me that he didn’t just have a heart—he had an entire galaxy inside him with hidden planets and solar systems and hopes and dreams and regrets. Things I’d never be privileged enough to understand unless I somehow made myself worthy.
Fifth, and the biggest of all, hinting at a past he hadn’t shaken by taking me to a place I never thought existed.
Standing beside him in the Monaco sunshine, I made a pact with myself. I wanted to know everything there was to know about Elder Prest. The secretive snippets and tiny temptations of his past consumed my own until I didn’t care about me but him.
Next time he asked something of me, I would do it without question. He told me to swim? I’d ask how far? He ordered me to steal? I’d ask how much? I would do that. I would live with any guilt and put up with any regret because right here, right now, he’d proven something priceless was inside him that I desperately wanted to pillage.
What is this place?
This wonderful, wondrous place?
I hung back as we stood upon a quaint sandstone path while the prettiest house I’d ever seen beckoned us closer. I didn’t know why the building affected me so. It wasn’t like I’d never seen a house before.
But this one was different.
Draped in midday sun, it looked alive. Emotion basked from its elegant white-framed windows. An invitation issued from its mandarin-painted front door. It was the perfect blend of East and West, masculine and feminine, holiday and home.
“What is this place?” My voice barely registered over the warm breeze coming up the cliff. The city glittered in the distance while we stood on a hilltop with a cove below and sandy beaches finishing the postcard perfect vista.
Elder’s hair gleamed blue-black, looking wet as oil and just as deadly. His t-shirt encased his muscular chest while his dark almond eyes shuttered whatever things he felt when staring at the abode before us.
“It’s mine.”
“Yours?”
He swept a hand through his hair, taming the wind-swept locks. “The only property I have on land.”
I thought of the Phantom and how idyllic the floating home was. How Elder was born to be on the ocean. How the thought of him living in this place fit so brilliantly and at the same time didn’t fit at all.
Before I could ask more questions, he strode forward. His loafers quiet on the sandstone tiles, the manicured rose bushes cheery and colourful with reds and pinks and yellows—a petal salute to their long-lost landlord.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Come.” He strode off without waiting, as if the pull of the dwelling worked just as potently on him as it did on me.
I followed, not because he’d told me to but because I couldn’t imagine not entering that house. The cupboards beckoned me to open and hunt down any personal artifacts of the man who’d rescued me. Kitchen drawers and bedside tables—all of it pulled at my curiosity until I hummed with the need to be nosy.
Reaching the bright orange front door, Elder pulled a single key from his pocket. Hanging from it was a Japanese character I recognised from school—the calligraphy for ‘long life’.
Did he wish long life for this house or for him? Or for the person in his thoughts right now—a family or loved one he would never see again?
Jealousy swelled then popped as I stabbed it with a pin of rationality. Today had been a learning curve of emotions with guilt and regret and now jealousy. Why was I jealous of Elder’s past? Why did I study his body language hoping his fingers would tell me or his shoulders would slip in his tale? How could I begrudge a previous lover or friend when he looked so alone as he inserted the key and unlocked the festive front door?
If someone had told me to imagine Elder’s house, I would never have pictured this. It was the exact opposite of the Phantom. The Phantom was sleek and refined with cool off-whites and rose-gold accents. This home was warm with creamy exterior, yellow sashes, and the odd flair of bronze.
The door swung open as if someone passed over its threshold daily rather than however long since Elder last visited. The house didn’t just yawn wide for us to pass, it practically inhaled with hope for guests.
Moving forward, Elder breathed deeply.
I copied, dragging the scent of honeysuckle and sun-warmed berries into my lungs. Instantly, I relaxed as if this was my place, and I was finally where I belonged. As if I’d always been searching for this oasis. Where my troubles remained on the cliff’s edge outside, and nothing and no one could find me.