Chapter 17 Maeve
MAEVE
I got out of the shower and toweled off, then wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror so I could see my reflection.
I was almost surprised by the familiarity of my face. If it hadn’t been for the piece of gauze Remy had taped to the wound on my neck, it might have been like the Hunt hadn’t happened at all.
Except it had. My heart raced when I thought about the Ghost who’d dragged me to the ground, the pressure of his body on top of mine as he’d tried to subdue me, and my cheeks still burned with humiliation when I remembered the way Meathead had cut my clothes from my body, how he and Mr. Skinny had pulled off my jeans.
I’d been scared when they’d chained me to the wall, and I tried to figure out why.
I’d opted in to everything it entailed, and not just once but twice.
I’d seen the blonde girl naked and chained in the first Hunt, but the bird men who’d chained her there hadn’t seemed like they wanted to hurt her, and the hockey team who’d been ravishing the blue-haired girl had clearly been delivering pleasure.
Subversive pleasure, but pleasure just the same.
The Ghosts — I knew that was what they were called from Remy and Poe — had wanted to hurt me.
Humiliate me.
I turned away from the mirror and toweled off, then pulled on my sweatpants and a long-sleeve T-shirt. I’d packed my stuff in the trunk of June’s car before the Hunt.
This time, I knew the drill.
I’d hoped to win, but I’d been prepared to lose. Bailey knew what I was doing, where I was going. She hadn’t been happy about it, but she knew by now that there was nothing she could do to stop me from getting justice for June.
I’d text her in the morning, apologize for leaving her without a roommate again.
Ugh. I sucked.
I combed out my hair and headed back into my room.
No, I headed back into the guest room that had been mine when I’d stayed with the Butchers. Thinking of it as mine was even more dangerous than the Hunt, and feeling happy to be back, like I was home, was the most dangerous thing of all.
The room was filled with bright light from the morning sun. It was jarring after the darkness in the tunnels, and I went to the wall of windows and pulled the curtains shut.
I was zipping up my hoodie when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
I knew it would be Remy or Poe. Bram hadn’t said a word to me since he’d stalked out of the tunnels, his face an immovable mask, his eyes unreadable. He hadn’t been able to find the Ghosts, and his vacuous energy was even blacker than usual, a vacancy that swallowed everything around it.
Even Titus — that was the name of the Barbarian who’d searched me for both Hunts — had steered clear.
The door opened and Poe entered the room carrying a tray of food.
“Thought you might be hungry.”
He set the tray on the bed and I saw that he’d brought me a sandwich, two bottles of water, and a cup of tea. He’d even included one of my own brownies.
“You’re comforting me with my own treats?”
“I’d bake you a cake if I knew how.” He sounded sincerely sorry. “It would say 'I’m sorry those fuckers dared to touch you’ on top. Or maybe ‘I’m going to kill those fuckers for touching you.’ Which would you prefer?”
I smiled and sat on the bed. “Either. Thanks.”
“Figured I should bring you something before Remy got to you with some fucking bone broth and a salad.”
I took a bite of the sandwich and he sat on the other side of the tray of food. I’d forgotten how beautiful he was, the sharp planes of his face a foil to his ridiculously full lips, his shoulders broad even under his sweatshirt.
He’d taken a shower too, and his dark hair was damp and shiny. He smelled like soap and balsam and I had to resist the urge to push my fingers through it, pull him close.
He reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew a key. “Let me get that collar off, little bird.”
The nickname sent a dangerous rush of pleasure through my body.
I scooted closer and offered him my neck. The collar fell away, and he touched a finger to the bandage on my neck. “Do you need a doctor?”
I shook my head. “I’ll live.”
He pocketed the collar. “We’d have taken this off last time if you’d asked.”
I pressed my lips together. “I didn’t know that was an option.”
“Everything was an option.” He hesitated. “You left without saying goodbye.”
There was no rebuke in it, but there was sadness, and my cheeks heated with shame.
Bram had deserved my rejection. Poe and Remy hadn’t.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It must have been pretty bad,” he said.
I knew he was talking about what had happened between Bram and me even though Bram obviously hadn’t given them the details.
“It was.” I took a sip of the hot tea just to keep my hands busy, just to keep from replaying that night in the kitchen with Bram for the thousandth time.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s not your fault. I…” I took a deep breath. “You and Remy were never anything but good to me. I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. I was just… not in a good place.”
He nodded. “I understand. And now you’re back.”
“Now I’m back.” I forced a laugh. “Guess we better get groceries tomorrow so I can start cooking.”
He shook his head. “This isn’t that. Not this time.”
“What do you mean? I lost the Hunt. Again.”
He stood. “We’ll talk after you get some sleep.”
I had no idea what time it was — I hadn’t bothered looking at my phone since I’d removed it from the pocket of my jeans — but I was suddenly exhausted.
I sighed. “Not gonna lie, sleep sounds even better than that sandwich, even better than the brownie.”
He picked up the tray and set it on the dresser across the room, then came back to pull back the covers on the bed. “Come on. In you go.”
I scooted to the top of the bed and slipped my legs under the covers, then lay back with a sigh.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
I hesitated. “Can you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”
He bent down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”
He turned out the light and walked to the other side of the bed, then stretched out on top of the covers. “This isn’t the way I planned it.”
I rolled onto my side so I could look at him, reassured by the sound of his voice in the dark, the weight of his body on the other side of the bed. “How you planned what?”
“Our first time actually sleeping together.”
“Disappointed?” I asked.
He reached for my hand. “Not even a little.”