Elena kept her head upturned after the kiss had ended, confused and unsettled and unsure whether she should have enjoyed that at all or been entirely livid that Tom had kissed her. He had said he would do as much to Aurek, but actually kissing her… well, she hadn't ever thought of it. It was unthinkable.

And it had happened. She slowly batted her lashes apart and studied him. He was facing into the crowd, and she glanced behind herself to look around— ah, that explained his elation.

The hand that still held her jaw, fingers playing in her hair, turned her back to him. "You've had a long evening. Shall I escort you to your room?"

Her eyes darted to the side, wanting to look back and make sure Aurek wasn't approaching, but he held her in place. Terror was lurking just below the surface, and she was trying to slow her racing heart. "He'll follow us up."

The crooked smirk on Tom's lips grew, baring his teeth viciously. "Good."

"That's not good," she breathed. Tom didn't understand. Aurek didn't like to be denied. That was why she had stopped coming home during breaks; he would often spend the first hours of the new year tucking her in once midnight struck, running his hands wherever he could, and— That's why she didn't come home for the holiday anymore, though he cornered her every summer when she came home to punish her for the offence.

"Not for him, no. It will be for me." She shook her head, the air in the room suddenly too thin to sustain her lungs, and she was trying to breathe deeply enough, fast enough to get oxygen to her brain, but all she managed to do was gasp, feeling like a fish thrown upon the land, gaping at the atmosphere that was drowning her in nothingness.

"Stop," Tom commanded. She stared up at him, desperate pants hiccoughing out of her. His hand trailed to the nape of her neck and he tightened his fist in her hair. The pain, sudden and sharp, cut through her panic. She hissed out the air in her lungs in a long sigh and furrowed her brow. She was grounded by it, the world no longer tipping and whirling about them. She could clearly see him, feel him, feel the floor under her heels. "Have you forgotten who I am? I told you, he will not be touching you anymore. You have no reason to be frightened of him. Do you understand?" At her nod, he lowered his hand, and slipped back into the posture of a gentleman escorting a lady.

When she curled her hand around his arm, he seemed pleased, though his face didn't shift. He extricated them from the crowd, nodding and murmuring politely as needed, leading them up the stairs to one side.

"You'll have to direct me, doll. I'm unfamiliar with your home."

Elena nodded again, not quite paying attention to everything happening. She felt almost outside of herself, like nothing was quite real except what she could touch. When she realized they'd stopped walking, she frowned, then thought back to what he'd said. Oh.

Elena nodded again, pulling gently on his arm as she led them down the hallway toward the end of the house, turned down another hall, and brought them to the end of that. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came, so she closed it again.

"This is your room?" When she dipped her head in response, he turned the brass knob, swinging the door open, pulling them inside before shutting and locking it. Elena surveyed her bedroom, realizing he did the same.

It was a fair size, though not so large that it couldn't be cozy. There was a fireplace for especially cold nights, a door that led to her private bath, windows along two walls that met in a corner, art on the others. Her bed was pressed up against the far wall, windows peeking out through the curtains of the white fourposter piece. The wardrobe was painted white, the dresser, the vanity, the desk. Everything had a touch of lace, flowers, pastel blues and pinks. There were dolls along the dresser, one in a comfortable armchair that was bright teal and cherry wood and looked almost out of place, and a few stuffed animal toys at the foot of the bed.

It looked the room of a small girl, not one on the cusp of adulthood. Elena slipped her wand from the concealed pocket of her gown, flourishing it. The trunk at the foot of her bed swung open. Another flick, and the toys on the bed, as well as the dolls lining her room, organized themselves inside. She aggressively spelled off the cream and pink, lacy, flower blanket. It folded itself and laid on top of everything in her chest. She then went to her bed, kneeling down to pull out a large navy comforter with gold tooling, wafting it across her bed. She bent down again and, with a nervous glance toward Tom, pulled out a stuffed, patchwork rabbit that had seen better days.

"Your room is at the other end of the house, two doors down when you take the first turn."

He smirked at her, then began working on his cuffs.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting out of these robes." He tugged off the jacket and laid it across the back of the chair, then did the same with his vest, folding it over the arm.

"Why?" Elena stood beside her bed, clutching the rabbit to her chest.

Tom arched a brow. "You said he would follow, yes?" She blinked. "I'll be here when he does."

For a moment, she just stared him. He'd pulled off his belt, slipped out of his shoes and his button-down, standing now only in his undershirt and trousers. "Can I help you?"

"I need to change."

He waved his hand on her to get on with it, and she huffed, set down her rabbit, and rooted around in her dresser before hurrying to the washroom. She changed as quickly as she could, washing the makeup from her face, pulling off and setting aside the jewels, and pulling on the nightdress. It was grey, falling to her knees, plain. She still looked strange to herself in the mirror, and finger-combed the curls in her hair until they looked less perfect. She set everything neatly in its place as she came back into her room, ignoring the young man sitting on her bed until she was done.

He'd transfigured his trousers into a loose pair to sleep in, and his undershirt was gone. She blanched at the sight.

"Your bed is large enough. Quite comfortable, too," he remarked, bouncing slightly as though to test the quality.

"Are you planning on sleeping here?"

He stared back at her, expression bland even as one brow rose. "Did you want to be alone if he decided to press the issue?"

"You're not wearing a shirt," she remarked instead.

One corner of his mouth twitched, and he said, "I usually wear less for bed."

Her face flushed, cheeks burning. "I didn't need to know that."

"There are women who would be pleased," Tom said as he finally shifted to lie on his side, elbow propping up one of his arms so he could rest his head on his fist.

"You're not interested in me that way," she said, looking down at her feet rather than at the person in her bed.

"I'm not?"

Her head almost hurt with the force as she snapped back up. She barked out a laugh before she could help herself. "You aren't— I'm sure you're not interested in romance."

His eyes flicked down her body, scanning her legs, her figure beneath the nightgown, lingering on her lips before smirking slyly. "Not romance, no."

Elena stiffened. "That's not likely to make me want to sleep in the same bed as you."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to molest you, Elena. I might be an evil bastard, but I prefer bedding women who want me."

She deliberated on whether he was lying, but could find no reason for him to. He'd confessed to murder, seemed to enjoy torturing people, certainly liked manipulating them. After a moment, she nodded, and walked to the bed, slipping under the covers and facing the wall. She felt him shift behind her, the covers moving, and his weight was near enough she could almost sense him.

He wasn't particularly warm, so that wasn't it. If anything, Tom ran cold. However, he had presence. She took in a deep breath and let it out, tension leaking from her as she realized he meant what he said about keeping her safe, as much as Tom could mean anything like that. As she curled her legs toward her chest, huddling around the little rabbit she'd had since she could remember, his hand laid itself on her bicep, thumb stroking her skin.

"You're warm," he murmured. "It's… pleasant."

She nodded.

Elena waited for a bit, anticipating a movement, anything unusual. Nothing happened, and soon she found herself drifting off.