Cursed

Chapter Twenty Six

Leif felt like shit. He didn't regret kissing Elora, not even for a second. He felt lighter now that he knew what her lips tasted like. How her hands pulled at him, desperate for more. As hard as he tried, he couldn't shake those images from his head.

But, it was a mistake. Leif could admit that. He'd said it himself, right before the kiss. He didn't deserve her. Not when he'd spent his life as someone who Elora would be afraid of. Someone she'd run from, just like she was running from Ivar right now.

Opening up to Elora, letting her in, being someone she could love. It all felt like a sham. Once Elora knew the truth about his past, about all of the events that made him  the way he was today, she wouldn't want anything to do with him. Or worse, he would become her burden.

Leif had only known Elora for a short while, but he saw the way she handled the situation they were in. She wanted to carry everything. All the guilt, all the responsibility, everything. Leif worried that if she didn't go running for the hills, she would try and carry some of his baggage for him, to be a crutch for him as he healed and redeemed himself. He couldn't have that. The baggage he carried was hundreds of years old.

So, he stayed away, which was hard when you're on the run, living in a secluded house. He wanted to say something. He knew she had to be suffering, not hearing from him. He knew she probably thought the worst, that he was using her. Because of that, he distanced himself from the house. He would take drives to go for groceries, or scan the area for anything suspicious, or cut firewood. Anything to be out of that house.

***

A week. A whole week has passed since Elora and Leif's kiss. Elora still felt the feeling of his calloused hands on her thighs, inching up, up, up, toying at the hem of her cotton shorts. His words, 'Fuck, Elora, Angel,' played on a constant loop in her head, only intensifying when she was alone in her room at night, wanting him more than ever.

But, it had also been a week since the two had so much as acknowledged each other. Elora felt embarrassed, she was never the type to put all her cards on the table like she did that night. She all but threw herself at him. And despite the fact that her advances were reciprocated, she couldn't help but feel ashamed. Ashamed that she let herself give into these feelings that could be one-sided. She wasn't naive, she knew that not everyone needed to have feelings associated with physical intimacy.

Elora felt more lonely than ever in the aftermath of the shared moment on the kitchen counter. As badly as she wanted to speak with Leif about what happened that night, as badly as she wanted him to speak with her, she wasn't ready yet, she didn't have the words, at least not for Leif.

"Has he said anything to you?" Elora asked Lex one night, as she watched him prepare dinner from her seat at the barstool.

"About?" He didn't bother looking up from the cutting board.

"Don't play dumb, you know what I'm talking about," Elora rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you mean when I stopped you guys from fucking on my kitchen counter. No, he hasn't. Leif doesn't talk about his feelings like that."

A blush crept up Elora's neck, settling in on the apples of her cheeks. "Don't be gross. It was just a kiss."

"Seemed pretty hot and heavy from where I was standing." He shrugged, turning to busy himself with something on the stovetop.

"I don't know what to do," Elora groaned, deciding she was going to go crazy if she didn't clue someone in on the feelings that she was going through. She wished Rosalie was here right now. She always knew what to do in situations like the one she was in. "He opened up. He told me what he was feeling. There was something there. And now, nothing."