Essence (Nectar 3)

As the elevator climbed, she could feel the tension emanating off him like a living and breathing monster. He’d moved in front of her protectively and she just stared at the back of him, chewing her lip nervously.

They got off the elevator first and the rip-roaring fight started the minute they got back into the apartment.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded and she knew he was hanging onto his temper by a thread.

“I had to get outta these four walls, Tristan. I feel like I’m in a cage. Since we’ve been together do you realize how much time I’ve spent cooped up? It’s making me nutso! I just got some steaks for dinner. See?”

“Are you fucking insane?” he hollered so loud and so angrily that she felt herself cower a little.

He advanced and she backed up right into the back of the sofa.

“Is your need to get fresh air that much more important than your need to fucking breathe and survive?”

She opened her mouth to speak but he kept going.

“Do you have any fucking idea what it was like to get here and see that you were gone?”

“I was gone not even fifteen minutes,” she whispered.

He looked at her like she was an idiot.

She was an idiot. She knew it. But she defended herself anyway.

“There’s a note on the fridge.”

There was. It said “Gone to the store. Back in 10.” And she had hoped he wouldn’t get back before she did and see that note. He shouldn’t have been back. He’d left not that long before she did to go to some meeting. She hoped she could just chuck it in the trash and go about her day, making him a nice dinner, feeling better after having got outside like a normal fucking person for ten minutes. Then she’d tell him about it and he’d hopefully realize that things could get normal for them.

“Do you think I made it to the goddamn fucking fridge? I opened the door and knew that you weren’t here immediately. I couldn’t smell you, I couldn’t feel your presence here but I’d felt it in that fucking hallway so even though I ran through the apartment to see if you were here, I knew you weren’t. The only thing that kept me from flying through the glass and out the fucking window to find you fifty odd stories down instead of going down in the elevator is that I could feel that you were out there, not a fucking care in the world, traipsing down the street. The note on the fridge doesn’t mean squat. What matters is how absolutely stupid that was! Looks like chaining you to the bed is the only way to keep you from---”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” She cut him off and got right in his face, “You do that to me ever again and you’ll fucking lose me. Grrr!”

She felt the cold jet out of her fingertips and she gave him a shove, hands flat against his pecks. He didn’t budge but his face got angrier. He caught her by the wrists and his eyes narrowed. She yanked her hands away and stormed away from him, dropped the bag with the steaks on the island, pulled out the dagger, and then stormed upstairs and put it back under the pillow and then she paced. And paced.

She was still feeling claustrophobic. Even more claustrophobic than she’d felt before she’d gone outside.

Maybe the villa would’ve been better. Then there was at least the courtyard where she could get air while still being safe. Yeah, in a pit. In a prison.

No, she doubted it. She knew she’d be fidgety there, too. She felt like she was coming out of her skin half the time since they got back here. All she had was the open concept level with the kitchen and laundry room and living area plus the upper loft bedroom. Unless you counted the walk-in closet and the panic room and bathrooms.

Yes, there was a view. It wasn’t small. It was bright, airy, and luxurious. But so what? A prison was still a prison, whether it was a panic room without windows or an open concept condo in the sky.

Tristan’s fuck room. Tristan’s bedroom. Tristan’s condo. Tristan’s panic room. Hotel rooms. The room and then the cottage at Adrian’s compound. One prison after another after another.So he can keep me safe.She felt a big pang of guilt. She let out a long slow breath and sat on the bed, scooted up to the pillows, and pulled her knees up to her chest.Damn it! What’s wrong with me?She knew he had a load of things on his plate and she was putting more stress on him with her attitude. She also knew he was going it alone and wasn’t taking her up on offers of help. If she could help, maybe she wouldn’t be so bored. But regardless, she was being a brat, a liability. They’d been through so much already and she was making it worse.