Chapter 205

Agnes

Elijah gently pulled me out of the banquet hall before I could say another word.

We reached the nearest bathroom—a small powder room off the main hallway—and Elijah ushered me inside, locking the door behind us. Without a word, he turned on the faucet and soaked a washcloth in cold water.

“Here,” he murmured, pressing the cool cloth to my face. The temperature shocked me at first, but quickly helped soothe the burning under my skin.

I closed my eyes as he moved the cloth from my cheeks to my forehead, then down to my neck. The anger and heat that had consumed me just moments ago began to fade, only to be replaced by a deep sense of embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered as Elijah gently dabbed the washcloth against my wrists. “I don’t know what came over me. I just got so angry when I saw them sitting there, acting like they belonged at our celebration after everything they’ve done—or rather, everything they didn’t do.”

“It’s alright,” Elijah said softly, rewetting the cloth and carefully placing it on the back of my neck. I shivered, but it wasn’t an unwelcome sensation. “It’s not the first time you’ve had an outburst like that, though.” He gave me a meaningful look, although it wasn’t an angry one.

My cheeks flushed, but this time, it had nothing to do with the heat in my body. “Oh,” I muttered, looking down at my feet. I’d almost forgotten about our first family vacation together, when I’d gotten drunk and told Olivia off in front of all those other women.

I hadn’t forgotten about slapping my stepmother across the face, though. Or fighting Olivia in the nail salon.

I swallowed hard as the implications sank in. “Are you saying I have anger issues?”

To my surprise, Elijah snorted. “No. Definitely not.” He hesitated, removing the cloth from my neck and placing it over my wrists next. He wrapped the fabric around them, gently holding it in place.

“But maybe it’s connected to your abilities,” he went on. “Heat. Passion. Anger. That sort of thing. From the research I’ve done, elementals tend to have specific personality types and reactions to certain stimuli. You should try to avoid confrontations with people who are known to piss you off until we know more.”

His words were probably supposed to make me feel better, as if my reactions were out of my control, but it really only made things worse. I sighed. “Great. So not only am I an angry person with no self-control, but my anger might actually be dangerous. What happens when my wolf finally emerges? Will I have even less control then?”

“Hey,” Elijah said, setting the washcloth aside and taking my face in his hands. His palms were cool and slightly damp from the cloth. “You’re not just ‘an angry person.’ And your reactions have never been unjustified, Agnes. Not once.”

“But I made a scene at our own party,” I protested. “I embarrassed us both. And like you said, it’s not the first time I’ve done something like this.”

“Listen to me,” Elijah said firmly, tilting my chin up until I met his eyes. “You have every right to be angry. Your family abandoned you when you needed them the most. They kicked you out, left you alone to grieve, to search, to survive. Of course you’re angry. I’m angry for you.”

The earnestness in his expression made my heart flutter.

“Even if there’s public backlash from this—which I doubt there will be—I will never try to control your anger or hide it away,” Elijah continued, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. “I’ll always stand by you and support you. Every emotion you feel is valid, Agnes. And I’m with you through all of them—the joy, the sorrow, and yes, the anger, too.”

My breath caught in my throat at his words. At this point in our relationship, maybe I should have gotten used to my husband’s unwavering support. But no matter how long I’d known him, his kindness never failed to leave me speechless.

Elijah, noticing the tension leaving my shoulders, offered me a soft smile. “And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t sexy as hell when you get like that.”

I blushed and looked away. “Stop it…”

“But I mean it,” he murmured, his voice growing husky as he leaned closer to me. His lips brushed mine ever so gently as he whispered, “Just try to save your fiery passion for the bedroom.”

My chest tightened with excitement. “How about right now?” I asked, tilting my head slightly. “I could use some release before I go back to the party.”

Elijah’s eyes flickered with desire as I spoke. He dipped his head and brushed his mouth against mine, lingering for a tender kiss. It was gentle at first, but it quickly deepened as his hands slid down to my waist, pulling me closer. My fingers tangled in his hair, and the soft groan that he rumbled into my mouth at the gesture was enough to set my nerves tingling with fresh heat.

Pressing his body against mine, he backed me up against the sink. I felt the cool porcelain edge dig into my lower back, and I curled my fingers in the lapels of his jacket, tugging him so hard he nearly fell and had to catch himself on the mirror behind us. His hands then slipped lower, gripping my hips and lifting me slightly so I was perched on the edge of the sink.

The world fell away as Elijah’s lips moved from my mouth to my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I arched into him, my head falling back as his teeth grazed my pulse point.

The knock on the door was so unexpected that we both jumped.

“Hello?” a voice called from the hallway. “Is someone in there? There’s a line forming out here.”

Right. We were at a party with dozens of guests just outside the door. Elijah’s lips quirked up in a smirk, and he lifted me again, this time setting me back down on the floor.

“We’ll be out in a minute,” he called.

I smoothed my dress and patted my hair back into place as Elijah picked up the discarded washcloth and tossed it into the hamper. As a last thought, I quickly wiped his handprints from the mirror.

We slipped back into the banquet hall, rejoining the party as if nothing had happened. To my relief, most of our guests seemed to have moved on from my earlier outburst, and it seemed my family had left entirely.

The rest of the evening passed smoothly, with dancing and dessert and laughter.

By the time the last guest left, I was exhausted but satisfied. The feast had been a success, despite the minor hiccup with my family.

Elijah carried Thea up to bed—she’d fallen asleep under a table with two other children after gorging themselves on cake—while I supervised the cleanup. By the time everything was in order and the staff had gone home, it was well past midnight.

Elijah was already sleeping when I crawled into bed beside him, worn out from the day’s events. I curled against his body, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing as he slept.

But despite my exhaustion, sleep eluded me.

After tossing and turning for nearly an hour, I carefully slipped out of bed, leaving Elijah sleeping in bed.

I padded down the hallway to my study, planning to work a bit since I couldn’t sleep. Work always seemed to soothe my racing thoughts, anyway.

As I opened my study door, something caught my eye—an envelope on the floor, laying there as if it had been slipped under the door while we were all downstairs at the party.

I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. There was no name on the outside, just a plain white envelope. Curious, I broke the seal and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

My eyes widened as I read what was written inside.