In hindsight, maybe the kitchen had been too quiet.
Eliana's head was throbbing in a strange, nauseating way she'd never really experienced before. She rolled over, her hair splayed across the pillow beneath her head, and pulled her warm blanket closer to herself. The kitchen was starting to warm up under the soft daylight that beamed through the narrow windows, but barely.
She opened her eyes by a fraction. Chelsea was shaking her awake with her hand on her shoulder, which would explain the ongoing gentle rocking sensation. In her other hand was a glass of apple juice.
Eliana startled. "Oh."
Chelsea could only hum in agreement. "Oh, indeed."
Eliana started to sit upright, although she was still feeling slightly too sluggish to open her eyes fully. She pulled her legs towards herself, keeping them covered with her blanket. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn.
"This . . ." She groaned softly and rubbed her eyes. "This isn't my best moment."
Chelsea — fully committed to not outwardly displaying her amusement — shook her head. "No, I can't say it is," she agreed. "I've had to stop others entering the room on 5 separate occasions, on Master Marcus' orders. I've also been told to keep you hydrated."
Maybe, if she were any more awake, she'd feel embarrassed. That horror of her predicament would probably set in later. But for now, all she could do was blankly accept the glass from Chelsea's outstretched hand and caress the chilled surface against her palms.
Eliana took a steady sip. "Thanks for the blanket, by the way."
"Oh, that . . ." Chelsea hesitated, ". . . wasn't me."
"Oh," Eliana said, opening up her phone in her free hand. "Marcus?"
She waited for a reply — some kind of rambling chatty explanation as to what had happened over the last few hours — but the silence was far more deafening. Eliana lowered her phone into her lap.
"Caius," she concluded.
Rather than respond, Chelsea busied herself by fluffing up the pillows behind her and carefully taking the now unwanted glass from her hands. She moved around at an almost comical human-like pace, although not once did she stumble on her stilettos or lose her balance.
Eliana stood up to follow her to the other side of the kitchen, carrying one of her trainers and attempting to untie the knotted laces. "But I still don't–"
Eliana stopped. Chelsea eyed her strangely — the hand grasping at her stomach and her wide open eyes — but Eliana had barely frozen for a second before she was retching awfully into a waste bin.
With each bout of nausea, Eliana felt her entire body convulse, almost as if there was an invisible hand inside her, squeezing her stomach mercilessly. The cold floor dug into her knees, but not nearly as painful as the sharp rim of the bin against her bare palms.
"Easy. Deep breaths, tesoro."
Deep breaths were so much easier said than done, and maybe she would've said so if her mouth wasn't full of bile. With every small intake of oxygen into her lungs, she heaved again. She was starting to feel dizzy. Her eyes were fuzzy with tears. It was difficult to tell who else had joined the room. Her brain was so foggy that it was difficult to tell where she was.
"Ssh, careful. Can you stand?"
Eliana thought to nod, but she wasn't sure if she'd actually done so. She felt someone else put in most of the effort — all she needed to do was weakly push her feet back against the floor. But even that was too difficult to do. Even the tiniest change in altitude was suffocating her.
She slipped out of consciousness like a light. Aro had her in his arms within the same split second. Her body went completely limp, her head resting motionlessly against his shoulder.
Truth be told, he'd sort of hoped the first time they'd met would be the last time they'd be in this position.
"Now, I don't want to be the one to say I told you so, but–"
"Aro, there's a time and a place to be an arse," Caius drawled. He leaned against the door like he was ready to bolt out of the room at the next given opportunity.
Aro snorted humorlessly; he tentatively dragged a damp cloth across Eliana's face, particularly her mouth and chin. "Caius, there's no use standing by the door as if to leave. This is almost entirely your fault."
Aro lifted his head, like he was waiting expectantly for a point to be made or someone to continue. He eyed the figure to his right.
Marcus didn't appreciate being dragged into this conversation. "What are you looking at me for?" he questioned.
"I'm waiting for your exposition," Aro said. "That's your role in this household."
Caius whispered some ancient foul curses beneath his breath. "Aro, we're not a household," he stated. That door behind him felt more tempting with every passing second, regardless of the state of his mate.
"But his role is exposition," Aro said.
"Without a doubt," Caius agreed.
Marcus hadn't been in the best of moods for the last few hours. He didn't appreciate feeling like the only member of the coven taking this situation seriously. A situation that was at risk of dire consequences if they didn't handle it appropriately. A situation that literally threatened to tear their souls apart and–
"Well?" Aro prompted.
Marcus, visibly tired, leaned back against Eliana's bedpost and sighed. "She will survive," he said.
Aro slowly turned. "Would you care to elaborate, brother?"
Rather than make a snide comment like he so wished, Marcus continued. "Symptoms like this will come in waves," he explained, mostly to Caius. "But true mate bonding has rarely been studied. I can't say for certain how the condition of the bond deteriorating will affect either of you, or us by extension."
"Then as our resident relationships expert," Caius began disparagingly, "what is your guess?"
Marcus shrugged. "Fatality . . ." He paused, taking a moment to regain himself, ". . . is highly unlikely. The bond would take desperate measures to repair itself if its condition ever reached that point, I'd imagine by forcing you two to consummate."
Caius' eyebrows furrowed in abject disgust. "Forcing?"
"Caius, I shouldn't have to remind you that you are the dominant partner in this relationship, not Eliana," Marcus said. "Even putting the context of the damage aside, for which you most of all owe her a massive apology, it's your responsibility to fully mend the situation before it can get that bad, and so far you are not off to a good start."
Aro took a step back from Eliana. She no longer had bile dripping from her chin, but it did nothing to improve her overall look. Her pastiness rivalled his own. Clearly she hadn't rested well either, despite the amount of sleep she'd managed to get — there were impressively dark bags beneath her eyes.
It was as Aro started towards the door that Caius asked. "How is she?"
Aro raised an eyebrow. "If you would like to know, you should ask her yourself."
Eliana woke up sometime around noon. It was quiet in her room, so blissfully quiet. Blissful until it started to draw her attention away to herself instead, and to the godawful state she was in.
It took her about an hour to muster up the energy and courage to climb out of her bed and freshen up. A long, steaming hot shower and a lengthy brush of her teeth still didn't feel like enough to wash away the sense of griminess that covered her body, but it would have to do.
She dressed fast and applied a considerable amount of makeup to her face — anything to draw attention away from her sickly pallor. If she stared into her mirror for too long, it was as if a sickly Victorian boy wearing lash-lengthening mascara and lip stain was staring back at her.
Eliana left the room with her jacket, her wallet, her phone, and the first bag she grabbed from the back of her door. She let her door fall closed behind her and used her Snapchat camera to adjust her hair to look more presentable and less slick and ugly as she walked. With her free hand, she slipped her wallet into her empty bag.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Afton was right behind her. She couldn't even act surprised. That was his job description; wordlessly tailing her, shadowing her every move, guarding her from even the smallest of threats. The only aspect Afton tended to struggle with at times was the wordless part.
"I'm leaving," Eliana said, not bothering to look at him over her shoulder as she responded.
"Now?" Afton questioned. "Why?"
Eliana shrugged. "I need space."
"But," He started to walk in line with her, frantically protesting, "but you can't just — not now, not after . . ."
She let him trail off. She allowed him a moment to comprehend the situation for himself.
". . . You're just leaving for a day trip, aren't you?" Afton quietly concluded.
Sparing him a little, Eliana pouted and nodded. "Yeah."
"And you're coming back this evening," he said.
Eliana nodded slowly. She was trying so hard not to laugh. "You're such an idiot."
To be honest, Eliana had sort of hoped that would be it, that Afton would leave her be, now that her motives had been made nice and clear. But still, like the obedient and slightly terrified to be torn apart servant he was, he continued to hurry after her — an easy feat for someone as inhuman as him, but still difficult for him to hold her attention for longer than a second or two at a time.
"Before we leave," Afton continued, "I should tell–"
"By now, at least one of them has heard," she interjected. "I don't see why they should care anyway. Hey, if you're going to follow me, could you at least do it in a way so I don't need to know?"
The shadow in her peripheral vision vanished, no blur of movement or silent footsteps necessary. If she focused hard enough, it was as if she could feel the man's presence somewhere nearby — with her eyes closed, she could somewhat discern his location. She wasn't sure whether she'd ever been able to do that before . . .
Eliana took the elevator down to the lowest floor. A set of keys sat patiently on the roof of the first car she approached. It was a very inconspicuous car, just small and dark grey with no particularly remarkable qualities about it, other than the heavily tinted windows.
She climbed into the driver's seat and immediately rolled all of the windows down the moment the engine started to rumble beneath her. Remembering how her last few hours had gone, she knew she'd need the fresh air.
According to the sat nav built into the car, Florence was only an hour and a half drive away. As were various other picturesque-looking destinations — she really regretted not leaving for a little adventure sooner. Volterra was so restricting in comparison.
She waited until her car was safely parked within an underground car park towards the centre of the city before sliding her phone out of her pocket. No messages. No missed calls. Either everyone back in Volterra had no idea she'd left in the first place or they were all simply leaving her to her own devices. She sincerely hoped for the latter.
Eliana really really regretted never exploring Italy sooner, because by god had she missed out. Everything was just so lush and pretty and clean. Even in the busiest, most bustling tourist-filled areas, not once did she accidentally step on some discarded rubbish or an empty packet of baccy. This was incredible.
At least it was until she started walking through a group of clueless American tourists. It was from then on that she decided she'd keep her earphones in for the foreseeable future.
She drifted in and out of any shop that took her fancy. One sold handmade soaps with scents so heavenly that they were almost orgasmic, another produced a delicate array of handcrafted pastries and desserts she was scared to even approach. She entered boutiques tailored for only the wealthiest — or people who were particularly bad with their credit cards — but it only took one glance at the price tag on a quaint leather purse for her to turn around and walk in the other direction. No amount of wealth would make her feel comfortable enough to touch anything that valuable.
Eliana spent some of her afternoon sheltering from the heat in a family-run restaurant tucked away into the corner of a narrow stretch of road, where she was coerced into ordering a portion of cannelloni.
And this time, she could actually stomach it. She took small experimental bites, and not once was she overcome with the urge to vomit. The reasoning she didn't care much about. Maybe later, she could take some time to ponder why she'd been affected by a strange burst of nausea and so abruptly. But for now, she just wanted to sit at this table and enjoy her well-earned meal in peace and quiet.
She felt the floor vibrate beneath her, barely half way through her small meal. Caius dragged a chair out, sat down opposite her, and took his sunglasses off, not remotely concerned that his blood red irises would now be visible to anybody who walked past.
Eliana shook her head and manoeuvred some cannelloni onto her fork. "I can't go anywhere without being followed," she remarked.
"Would you rather I didn't follow you here?" Caius asked.
She shrugged. "Maybe."
"That wasn't a no," he noted.
"I want to say yes," Eliana confessed, "but if I do, it hurts."
Caius didn't respond. He could only assume that this was another side effect of . . . whatever was happening. Damaged bonds and an endless flood of consequences rippling painfully between them.
"How is your shoulder?" he asked her.
"The bruising should go down in two weeks. The swelling will take another day or so," Eliana replied stoically. She didn't lift her head, didn't want to give Caius her visual acknowledgement yet. "Did you come here just to ask me about my shoulder?"
His pause was a sufficient reply.
"Aro tells me you're already able to use your telekinetic abilities," he said.
"I was able to before," Eliana responded. "That was how you ended up across the room, wasn't it?"
"Even while human, supernatural abilities can be used as a subconscious defence mechanism," Caius explained. Eliana wasn't sure how much of that knowledge had come from Aro. "Especially when the human in question is aware of their gifts."
"So it's a good thing I found out," she concluded.
Caius took a moment before responding. "My opinion won't change," he said flatly. "You shouldn't have been informed of your gifts while you are still human, if only for your own safety. However . . . I'll admit we were hasty in our decision to invite Eleazar to meet you without informing you first. And nothing excuses what I did to you, and for that I am sorry. Truly."
Eliana faltered. She lowered her hand to the table and lifted her gaze. Her response contained no promise of forgiveness or acceptance — just a small nod of her head.
"Keep one more secret from me and I swear to Christ, Caius, I will tear your face off," she said.
She didn't appreciate the amusement in his voice. "Noted."
"I mean it," Eliana insisted. "And don't you dare treat me like a juvenile infant again."
As it turned out, just the smallest hint of humour in his eyes was enough to piss her off, just a bit. "Anything else?"
Eliana's lip curled in frustration. "Stop looking at me like I'm a baby animal whenever I'm annoyed at you for being an insensitive prick."
Caius schooled his expression. "Better?"
"And lay a finger on me one more time and I'll leave," she finished.
The painful twinge in her heart only made itself known through the smallest of winces on her face. Caius, however, was far better at keeping his intense discomfort internalised.
"Understood, carina," Caius said evenly.
Quiet settled over them. Not the kind of comfortable silence she enjoyed with Marcus, or the wordless thought-sharing state she was often in with Aro. She was never silent with Caius. Ever, really. But she had nothing to say, and she was far from happy to sit and idly chat with him.
"And in future," Caius continued, "you mustn't leave Volterra without adequate protection."
Eliana frowned. "I had Afton with me."
"Afton is about as intelligent as Edward Cullen," he remarked dryly.
For the sake of her friend in Forks, Eliana tried not to laugh. But she knew Caius wasn't wrong in that assessment. Edward was an idiot, and it was hilarious.
"What's adequate protection then?" she asked.
"At least 4 guards, including 1 elite guard," Caius explained. "When travelling abroad, you should bring 10 at a minimum."
"But I went abroad a few days ago with just Afton and Demetri," she argued.
"You aren't required to acknowledge your company," he reminded her.
"Do you travel with that much company?" Eliana questioned.
"No," Caius answered. "I'm not easy to kill."
Eliana stiffened instinctively. She placed her fork down on her plate. "I can take care of myself. I'm an adult — I'm not that fragile."
Caius raised an eyebrow at her. He didn't immediately argue. He picked up an unused spoon from beside her plate. He started to wind the steel tool around his index finger idly. Around and around until it had formed a tight little coil. He placed that little coil down where the spoon had once been.
"Yes, you are," he said.
She reached out to touch the spoon. As if to convince herself that it wasn't made of paper or rubber or elastic. This was firm, unmoving, solid to the touch.
"I can take care of myself," Eliana stressed again, without taking her eyes off of his handiwork.
"I'm sure in normal circumstances you can, but not against an immortal," Caius responded. This was the least argumentative she could remember him ever being, she noted. "We have enemies, Eliana. Unthinkably cunning enemies. Enemies who can spot weaknesses from a mile away. It may come as a shock to you that you are our greatest weakness, and your humanity is an easy detail to exploit."
She reluctantly nodded. Caius placed his arm on the table, his palm open in invitation. She placed her hand in his without thinking. The straining in her chest began to ease instantaneously.
"Then why keep me human if I'm such a weakness?" she asked sardonically.
"Would you rather I–?"
"No," she cut in immediately.
"That's why," Caius concluded.
"Oh, right, I see." Eliana pulled her hand away and picked her fork up again. "So my opinion only matters when it's convenient–"
"That's not what I meant," he interjected. "Eliana, it makes no difference to any of us whether you are human or not. The fact of the matter is that you are at a far greater risk as a human, and there are extra measures we have to take to accommodate that. But you're not exactly an inconvenience."
"Flatterer," she quipped, her gaze hardening. If there was one thing that could be said about Caius, it was his inability to read the room and know quite the right thing to say in certain situations. She reached beneath her chair and thrusted her bag towards him. "You're carrying those. I have a shoulder injury."
Caius took the bag from her outstretched hand, holding it as if it were empty. He peered inside at the various leatherbound books and music albums she'd picked up from a vintage shop across the street.
"We almost certainly have everything in this bag somewhere in Volterra," he reminded her.
"I know," Eliana replied, "but I didn't want to spend hours searching when I could just buy my own copies."
As if to prove his point, Caius reached into the bag and pulled out the first book his fingers brushed against. "We have the first edition," he stated.
She shrugged. "So? It's my money."
Caius raised his eyebrow. "Is it?"
"I actually used my own debit card to buy all that," she answered matter-of-factly. "I have savings."
He sat back, the bag now resting on the floor against the leg of his chair. "You're bound to burn through those savings of yours sooner or later," he told her.
"Then it wouldn't matter," she said, "because I have this."
Her hand slipped into her pocket. She withdrew her wallet and produced the exact card Aro had given her months ago. The same card Caius could see any transactions on — of which there were usually very few.
"So I'll buy all the books I want, thanks," Eliana concluded.
Caius hid his amusement in the form of faux annoyance. "Whatever you say, piccola."
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Author's note: There's something mildly satisfying about the fact that some of you guys got so invested in the last chapter. And I can't lie, this is like my 12973927th draft of this chapter, because I've been so indecisive about the direction I want to take it in. I wanna do them justice, because they're all stubborn assholes in their own way. No one as much as Caius. Communication is key though. Here, we encourage realistic but healthy dynamics. Slay.