Chapter 463: I Need a Contraceptive
Since Olive held the knife, she clearly heard it cut into his flesh. The sudden pain in his chest paled Elvis's face. He raised his thin lips and kissed her tears. “Olive, I underestimated you. You’re really willing to stab me.”
Olive scoffed. He gritted his teeth, adding, “But I can’t die in front of you.” She released the knife, withdrawing her hand and falling back onto the soft bed. Closing her eyes, she cried bitterly. Elvis pulled the knife from his chest and dropped it. The wound wasn't deep, but blood seeped from his white shirt. He straightened, unbuttoned his shirt, and pressed it against the wound to staunch the bleeding. A drop of blood fell on Olive's face.
Elvis looked down. The fine lines on Olive's face had vanished; her skin was restored. He froze, realizing Crystal's blood was effective. She had swallowed the pill moments ago, and now she was fine. He leaned down and kissed her. “Olive, you can’t escape me. You are mine. No one can take you away, not even yourself.”
Olive didn't know how much time passed, but during their intimacy, she lost consciousness. She opened her eyes, dazed. A soft towel wiped her cheek. It was Elvis, cleaning her. He was naked, his expensive metal belt on the floor. His appearance would make thousands of girls swoon; he was undeniably sexy. Olive's gaze fell on the bloodstain on his chest; he hadn't treated his wound. She cruelly turned away, not asking about it. She only regretted stabbing him too lightly.
“It hurts… it hurts…” she mumbled, curling into a ball. Elvis tossed the towel into a bucket, quickly cupping her face in his large palm. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere,” she replied, her eyes reddening from the pain. She buried her face in the pillow. Elvis licked his dry lips. “Honey, don’t cry. I’ll clean you first. I’ll call the doctor later…” He kissed her eyes tenderly. “I’m sorry, I lost control. You’re a little torn; you might need stitches.”
Olive remained silent. Elvis wrung out the towel, the water splashing onto her skin. This was unlike him; he had never served anyone before. Olive suddenly remembered something crucial: it was her dangerous period, and pregnancy was a possibility. They had previously agreed she couldn't get pregnant, and he had always been rational and mature about it. She needed to take precautions.
“Elvis, I need a contraceptive!” she whispered.
He stood, towel in hand, staring at her seductively. “Okay, I’ll buy it later.”
“Now!” she demanded.
“Olive, if you have the strength, we can go another round.”
She shivered, grabbed the pillow, and threw it at his face. He didn't dodge. He covered her with the blanket. She still didn't ask about his wound. He felt bad, disappointed, yet also strangely satisfied. He stood by the bed, his gaze on her neck. “Olive, go to sleep. I’ll find the necklace and ring.”
She had thrown the jewelry into the pond. Olive’s small hand clenched. “Elvis, don’t. Even if you find it, I’ll throw it away. Other men will give me money; I’ll buy more.”
Elvis's eyes darkened. He kicked the bucket and stormed out, slamming the door. The room fell silent. Olive stared at the chandelier, confused. She knew her words hurt him; the OneLove jewelry was from his mother. It was best he left; she didn't want to see him. Yet, why did she still feel hurt?
In the middle of the night, it rained. Few cars were on the street. Elvis came to the pond, stepping into the water and searching for the OneLove necklace and ring. The rain drenched him, soaking his blood-stained white shirt.