The night air, cold and sharp, bit at my skin as I left the café with Elias down the dimly lit streets. Streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows that seemed to twist and shift like living things. My heart still thumped from the conversation inside, the way he'd looked at me. The subtle weight of attention, so intense. Normally, I would have taken a cab, ignored the city, and locked myself inside. But with him, I didn't feel that panic, not entirely.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of traffic.
I nodded, though my hands trembled. "I... I'm fine"
"You don't have to walk me home," I murmured, trying to keep my voice casual, though my chest was still tight from the tension of our café encounter.
Elias slowed, his gaze sliding over me like a careful examination. "I prefer it this way," he said softly. His dark eyes caught the lamplight in a way that made them almost impossible to read. "There's a certain honesty in sharing the streets after dark. You can't hide from the world, not really."
I shivered. Not from cold. From the strange weight of his presence. He was unnerving, yes-but in the same way someone could be hypnotically beautiful. Dangerous, but precise. I couldn't stop thinking about him. And that terrified me more than Mark ever had.
"You shouldn't walk alone at night," he said, casually, almost like a warning that could have been taken lightly or terrifyingly.
"I've walked alone plenty of times," I murmured, trying to sound calm.
He tilted his head, studying me. "And you've always been fine? No one has ever made you feel afraid?"
I hesitated. I wanted to lie, to pretend my life had been ordinary, unshaped by shadows. But I didn't.
"There have been... people."
He glanced at me, the faintest shadow of a smirk crossing his lips, but his eyes never left mine. "People who shouldn't have touched you."
A shiver ran down my spine. He knew. How much did he know?
"Elias, it's nothing. Really."
"No, it's not nothing," he said quietly. His tone carried the kind of certainty that left no room for argument. "You should never have to feel unsafe. Ever."
I felt my stomach twist. His words weren't just concern, they were ownership, a protective promise I couldn't fully comprehend.