Chapter 493
How are you these days? The door to the room was closed, shutting out the world's clamor. Olive looked at him, momentarily speechless. “You found… that scar man?” “Yes,” Elvis nodded, taking a step closer. Olive instinctively retreated. “Are you close to the third princess?” Elvis's black eyes bore into hers. From his thin lips came a single word: “No.” He was both simple and domineering. Though not close, Clara kept a watchful eye on him.
“At the wedding, you embarrassed Crystal and Logan, nearly biting them to death. This is Greenland; you stirred trouble in others' territory. Aren't you afraid of revenge?” Elvis arched a mighty eyebrow. “No, I’m not afraid.” A chill ran down Olive’s spine. There was no turning back. She’d backed herself against the wall, her slender form pressed against the cold stone. The next second, her vision darkened. A bang. Elvis’s tall, handsome frame enveloped her. He propped himself against the wall beside her, pulling her into his strong, warm embrace. His height blocked her view; his handsome face filled her world, his masculine scent captivating her. He looked down at her, her eyelids lowered. He whispered, his voice deep, “Olive, I, Elvis Augustine, fear nothing. I’m only afraid of you, of your fickle heart.”
Olive felt a pang of hurt. He raised his hand, his long fingers gently stroking her delicate face. “How are you these days?” Her eyes welled up. He was asking her as she had asked him with her empty phone that day. She’d asked, “Elvis, are you okay?” Now, the warmth of his palm against her skin was a stark contrast to the cool wall. She dug her fingers into the stone, her small face nestled against his hand, like a kitten seeking comfort. His broad shoulders offered shelter, a refuge she longed for but couldn't accept. She knew he was asking about One Snap. She nodded. “You should know how I am, Elvis. I’m fine.”
He held out a pill. “Take this.” “Is it Crystal’s blood? Didn’t the scar-faced man… with Crystal? Why is she giving you her blood?” “I spent time with her, and she was pleased. She gave it to me willingly.” Olive pursed her lips. Crystal was greedy, insatiable, yet she genuinely liked Elvis. His gentleness was enough to satisfy her. Olive took the pill, teasing, “In the end, Mr. Augustine is the most attractive. Greenland’s princesses are all captivated by your masculinity.”
Elvis’s handsome brows furrowed in displeasure. Olive sensed something was wrong. “Are you angry?” He looked at her, then lowered his head and kissed her lips. Olive’s pupils constricted; she turned her head to avoid him. He kissed her hair, burying his face in its sweet scent, a faint smile playing on his lips. He said hoarsely, “Olive, what’s wrong? You said in the restricted area that if I didn’t sleep with Crystal, you’d stay. Why do you refuse my kiss now?”
Olive remembered her words, but back then, she believed he was with Crystal and wanted him to back off. She couldn’t be with him. She lowered her lashes, whispering, “Tivis, I’m sorry…” Elvis stiffened, slowly raising his head. He pinched her face. “Olive, retract that apology. Anyone who apologizes to me goes to hell!” “You said it yourself! Do you want to take it back?” Hostility blazed in his eyes; she saw a flicker of murderous intent. If she dared to apologize again, he might strangle her. He’d humbled himself, yet she repeatedly lied and abandoned him. She felt his hatred building.
“Tivis, I’m sorry. I… said that to get rid of you and leave with Derrick. You and Crystal’s… relationship doesn’t change anything…” Before she could finish, Elvis squeezed her face, its color rapidly changing under his touch. “Enough, Olive! Then why were you at the wedding? To see me, to trample on me?” His forehead throbbed; a terrifying ferocity consumed him. He roared in anger and hatred. Olive closed her eyes. “Elvis, I’m sorry. We’re… over.”
His chest heaved; he clenched his fist, ready to strike. A fierce wind hit Olive. She didn’t flinch, closing her eyes. A loud bang. She waited for the pain, but it didn't come. She opened her eyes. His fist had grazed her cheek, impacting the wall instead. A hole appeared; his hand bled, crimson streaming down the white wall. “Elvis, you’re crazy!” Olive cried, her pupils widening. The smell of blood, a wave of nausea, and sour water rose in her throat. She shoved him away, rushing to the bathroom and vomiting.