Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Ella?” he murmurs beside me in the darkness. “Are you still awake?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing my breath to even out in the hopes he won’t try to comfort me again. It would be so easy to get pulled back into his orbit, and I hate him for that. I hate him for bringing me here and making me fall in love with him just so he could wreck me.
“I know you’re awake,” he says, his voice tormented. “Please talk to me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
His words strike a chord of fear in my heart, and it’s the one thought I can’t handle. When I’m gone, will Thorsen try to execute his plan? Will he try to hurt himself? I want to believe he wouldn’t do that. Not now. I’ve seen a change in him since I’ve been here. He’s steadier. More determined. And he’s taken on his role of king with a commitment I want him to see through.
Today, when I blurted out my observations to Dr. Blom, he seemed to agree. We’ve been visiting for the past couple of weeks after he promised not to divulge anything that’s said between us. He’s been kind, and he’s done his best to reassure me, but he told me that ultimately, Thorsen’s future is up to him. He must be the one to decide what he wants in this life. He’s the only one who can fight his demons. None of us can do it for him, no matter how much we love him.
I know he’s right. And this is why I have to leave.
When I confessed my desire to Dr. Blom, he said he would help me, if that’s what I truly wanted. Even though the guilt is all-consuming, I believe it’s the right decision. It’s the hardest decision I’ve ever made for myself.
“Ella,” Thor whispers again, his fingers brushing against my arm.
The shock of his unexpected touch startles me, and the painful sound of grief gets caught in my throat.
“What is it, gudinne?” He leans up and turns on the lamp, studying my tear-streaked face. “You’ve been crying?”
He looks so utterly broken, and I can’t understand it. How can he feel this way about me when he broke me too?
“Please say something,” he begs. “Tell me what I can do to make this right.”
“Nothing.” My voice feels rusty when I finally answer him. “There’s nothing you can do to make this right.”
“No.” He leans over me, dipping his forehead to mine. “I will fix this. Just tell me how. I need to know how.”
“I was wrong.” Another tear spills from the corner of my eye. “I thought I could withstand anything you threw my way, but I can’t. I can’t survive you.”
“Don’t talk like that.” He silences me with his lips.
I let him kiss me, allowing myself to feel him for the last time. It would be so easy to get swept up in his intoxicating power all over again. He is the embodiment of addiction for me. But I can’t keep fighting for something if I’m the only one fighting for it.
“I just want you to be happy,” I whisper against him.
Whether it’s with or without me.
“Ella—”
“I’m very tired.” I close my eyes and roll away from him. “I need to sleep now.”
Thorsen slips out of bed early in the morning, just as he has done every day for the past two weeks. Usually, in these early hours, I can hear him conducting business on the phone while he paces the hall. He doesn’t like to leave, but inevitably, his duties call him away for the better part of the afternoons. It’s a difficult concept to grasp that things have changed so much in such a short period. He’s the king now, and he should be at the palace, living his life, taking control of the situation there. Yet every night, he’s here with me.
We haven’t spoken about his father’s death, and a part of me feels guilty for that. I couldn’t be mentally present at a time when he really needed me. But I’m emotionally bankrupt right now, or at least, that’s how it feels. I think the part that hurts the most is what he told me himself. I was never anything more than a toy to him. Now, he’s engaged to Lavinia, and even if I could help him, there’s not room for me in this picture.
It’s that sentiment that coaxes me from the bed after he leaves this morning. I’m functioning on autopilot when I pack a few outfits from the closet in my guest suite, stuffing them into one of Thorsen’s backpacks. When I’m done with that, I grab the purse I had on me when he brought me here and the messenger bag with the two blue bottles.