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You have to trust somebody, sometime. Eleanor stared blankly at the wall as his words echoed in her mind as she lay curled on the settee in her room, the only spot that was free of glass and red paint. Tears had dried in a track down her face, eyeliner and mascara smudged in the hollows of her eyes. She didn't trust anyone, not anymore. Her father was gone, someone had killed him and she had no idea who it was. Nowhere was safe anymore. Bells tolled rhythmically in the distance as the Palace began to mourn, announcing to the world that the King was gone. The sound combined with the sinking of the cushion under sudden weight startled her out of her daze. Turning, Eleanor found herself face to face with him as dark eyes met grey blue.
“I don't-” Her voice cracked as she tried to speak. Eleanor wet her lips and tried again. “In the tunnels, you said you'd protect me with your life.” She rasped, all too aware of how close he was. The scent of his cologne was sharp and heady, reminding her of all those times she awoke in her bed, sheets thick with the smell of him. Avoiding the urge to swallow, Eleanor sharpened her gaze, forcing herself to get it together.
Jasper silently gazed back at her, not giving away what he was thinking as she spoke, letting her continue her questioning. His hand twitched in his lap like he was restraining himself from touching her.
Looking away, she glanced down at her hands, the red smeared all over them made her stomach give a sudden, sickening lurch. “Did you really mean that?” Eleanor murmured as she rubbed hard over a particular vivid spot, trying to smear the color away.
Larger hands settled over her own, forcing her to stop the furious scrubbing. “I meant what I said,” Jasper replied, accent sharp and pronounced and so utterly American, it made her skin prickle hearing the unfamiliar sound. Oh how she hates his guts. Anger burst hot into her chest, filling her like a fire at his response, at his bold touch. Damn him. Tightening her hands she tried to pull away but was held fast in his grip.
“I don't trust you,” Eleanor snapped, forcing the words out through the fury bubbling in her chest. The tension in the room was racketing up, closing in on her. She pushed panic down and shoved him backwards as she stood up and stepped back, putting space in between them. Damn him. Damn him.
“You have to trust somebody, sometime,” Jasper growled back at her, echoing his words from before as he stood up and advanced towards her. Eleanor tried to ignore the ache in her chest that bloomed at his too familiar words as she rounded on him, eyes flashing.
“I want to stay alive. I don't have to trust anyone,” She hissed out, ignoring the way he kept moving closer to her, standing her ground. “I want to know that you won't kill me in my sleep, that you might actually be able to keep me from dying, Jasper from where-,” Eleanor snarled, reaching out to stab hard at his chest.
Deftly Jasper caught her wrist, twisting it to bring her face to face with him again as the rest of her words died in her throat. “Listen to me,” He said firmly, leaning right into her personal space like he owned it. Eleanor glared hotly right back at him, forcing herself to ignore the traitorous thought in her head that whispered he does own it right back at her. “It's always been about you, Princess." Oh how she loathes how he always turns a regal title into a mocking nickname. "I will always put your safety over anything else.” Jasper rumbled, grey blue boring a hole into her as he leaned down and pushed their lips together fiercely.
Her gasp was cut off as he was suddenly everywhere, his scent in her nose as his tongue flicked over her bottom lip, one hand searing hot on her hip as the other tangled in brown curls. Stubble burned as he brought her closer, delving deeper. The kiss was hard, rough and so full of pent up emotions they both couldn't help but express. Anger, passion and so, so much of what Eleanor could never admit out loud. She could only embrace it's polar opposite, the one word that came easiest to her lips; hate.
“I hate you, Jasper,” Eleanor spat out, eyes alight as she pulled back, panting softly from the intensity of it all.“I hate you so much,” Both of them ignored the way her voice dropped into a desperate whisper, full of everything she couldn't say. Tears began a hot track down her cheeks as she fought to keep it in, biting her lower lip hard. Her father, this thing, it was all too much at once, the force of it made her chest ache fiercely.
It was silent for a moment as they both stood there, Eleanor's fingers twisted tightly in the material of his shirt as his hands lay heavy on her hips. Jasper looked at her knowingly, eyes softening as he took in her admission of defeat. It hurt, the way Jasper could read her like a book. Lightly he reached up and brushed a thumb over her cheek bone, gently removing the evidence of her weakness. “I hate you too, Princess,” He replied quietly, British accent slipping back in as he pried her lower lip from her teeth and leaned into give her one last kiss, gentle and soft.