15. Blue
15
Blue
T here was one thing, one detail, I never told anyone. One secret I kept.
When I got home that day, when I went into the bathroom to find my father holding Wren’s head under water, she was naked. And his pants were undone, open and pushed half-way down his ass. There was blood on the fronts of his thighs and his face was badly scratched.
“Go upstairs,” Zeke says, and, for the first time since I’ve been in this house, I know I’ve rattled him. What I said, did I know it was true before? Did I know this was what I wanted before saying it out loud?
I wipe a stray tear. It’s not for myself or for what I have to do. What I will do. It’s for Wren. It’s for the life she lost, because even if she’s alive, she lost the life she should have had.
“Go to bed. Now,” he says.
“My sister. Tomorrow, she’ll?—”
“I said go to bed, Blue.”
“Promise me you’ll take me to see her first. Promise me. Please.”
He nods once but is no longer looking at me, so I get up, and I go upstairs, making my way to the same room as earlier and closing the door. I don’t even care if he’ll lock it. It doesn’t matter. I strip off my clothes and without bothering to find anything to sleep in, I climb into the bed, exhausted, and crawl under the covers to sleep.
My mind wanders to what happened between us. No. Not between us. To what he did. Making me come like that. What he said. But I force the thoughts away and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the fluttering of wings in my belly, the memory of how it felt when I came.
When I open my eyes, it’s to bright light shining on my face. I slept hard. I can’t remember the last time I slept so hard.
I turn to the window, take in the warmth of the sun. Sunday. Wren’s birthday. I sit up and nearly have a fucking heart attach when I find Zeke comfortably ensconced in the chair across the room watching me.
“Jesus!” I put my hand over my heart, half-up on one elbow. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
He studies me, eyes intent, and I’m not sure if he just got here or if he’s been here all night.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, sitting up, careful to keep the duvet over myself. I note I’m not chained to the bed. That’s positive, I guess.
He pushes a hand through his hair and blinks, then stands. I wonder where his mind was.
“Morning,” he says.
“How long have you been in here?”
“A while,” he says shamelessly. He walks toward the suitcase picking my discarded skirt and sweater up from the floor on his way. “You should take care of the clothes. They’re on loan.” He drapes last night’s things neatly over the back of a chair and rifles through the suitcase to pick out a dress. He comes to the bed and lays it there. It’s pretty. Midnight blue with a cinched waist and short, A-line skirt.
“It’s a little cold for this maybe?” It’s March and mornings and evenings are still cold, and the dress has short sleeves.
He digs around in the suitcase to find a sweater. He tosses that onto the bed as well.
“I’m taking you to visit your sister. Then you and I have an appointment.”
I am relieved. One victory at a time. “I can be ready in ten minutes. But I need my makeup. It’s in my purse.”
“You don’t need that.”
“I do. People will stare?—”
“Doesn’t matter what people think.”
“No. It’s Wren… It upsets her.”
At that he stops. “Does she have any memory of that night?”
“I… I hope not.”
“Good. Get dressed. I’ll see you downstairs.” He walks toward the door.
“What appointment do we have after?”
He stops and turns back into the room. “Well, I was going to have you submit to a virginity test, but I don’t think there’s a need.” He grins. Remembering last night, I feel my face burn and try to ignore the heat. “But I do need to be sure you’re clean and that I’m protected.”
“First, wow, okay, I’m not sure where to start with that gem. Not even certain if I heard right,” I say flippantly, grateful he seems to be back to his asshole self and I won’t have to think about what happened last night.
“You did.”
“A virginity test? What the hell even is that?”
“Something you don’t need to worry about as I’ve already established, you’re a virgin. Which, honestly, is surprising in this day and age?—”
“Fuck off.”
He grins. “Women within The Society are required to remain virgins until marriage. The test is standard.”
“Well, that’s very modern of you.”
“We’re not a modern society.”
“I’m not a part of your creepy little society.”
“But you will play by my rules since you inserted yourself into my life.”
I open my mouth to argue, close it again and shake my head. “Wait, so you want to be sure I’m clean and you’re protected?” I ask, pointing from myself to him.
“Correct.”
“What about me? I mean, out of the two of us, I think I’m the one who should be worried about picking up some STD, don’t you? I mean, not that I’ve agreed to making love with you.”
He snorts. “Just to be clear, we’ll be fucking. There will be no love making.”
“I didn’t mean—” I start, embarrassed, but he cuts me off.
“Specifically, I’ll be fucking you. I’ll expect your submission.”
Once again, I’m grateful he’s such a prick. “You’re quite the romantic,” I say, trying again for flippant.
“I’m not going for romantic. That’s part of the arrangement I mentioned last night. Before we got… off track.”
He smirks.
I grit my teeth. “You offered your protection for the information I have.”
“I guess I’m amending.” He casually shrugs a shoulder. “Anyway, back to what I was saying, you’re safe from me. For the moment.” He steps toward the bed. I lean backward, tug the duvet higher because there’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach feel like a thousand moths have taken flight. And he must see it. “But let’s get clear on something. What you told me last night, what you want, it doesn’t change anything, not for us. It just makes this a little more complicated. Now get dressed. We’re on a schedule.”
“I’m not?—”
“I’m sure your sister would hate to miss your visit,” he says, checking his watch as he walks to the door. “Get dressed.”
“This conversation isn’t over.” He shrugs a shoulder and he’s out in the hallway. “Wait! I need to stop at the apartment and pick up Wren’s gift.” He sighs. “I’ll be quick. And it’s on the way.”
“That’s up to you and how quickly you’re up and we’re out.”
“You are such a jerk.”
“Time waits for no man.”
I flip him off, but he doesn’t see it because he’s long gone. I hurry to get dressed, brush my teeth and wash my face, finger combing my hair. It’s wavy and falls into place fairly easily, especially short as it is. I head downstairs and hear Zeke talking to a woman and I see Cynthia, the cook from last night, in the kitchen. She smiles at me when she sees me.
“Good morning,” I say, trying to be friendly. “Whatever you’re making smells wonderful.”
“Morning,” she says with a smile, although I see how her eyes dip to the chain hanging off the collar still around my neck. I casually wrap my hand around my throat to hide it. “I’m making omelets. Any dietary restrictions?”
I look at Zeke, who is drinking coffee, then turn back to Cynthia. “I eat everything. Thanks, Cynthia. I’m Blue, by the way.” She smiles again. “Aren’t you eating?” I ask Zeke.
“I’ve been up for a while.”
“Watching me sleep,” I mutter under my breath. “My purse?”
He points and I don’t know how I missed it sitting on the counter along the back wall. I pick it up, rummaging through for my makeup.
“There’s a bathroom down the hall you can use,” he says, watching me differently than he was before. Like he’s trying to figure me out.
I walk to the bathroom, taking in the house, noticing the dust cloths are off most of the furniture and light pours in from the oversized windows. The house is beautiful, and I imagine cost a fortune to furnish. I wonder about the electricity bill then remember he said it’s not his house. I wonder whose it is.
On my way to the bathroom, I pass the study. The things that were on the desk are still lying on the floor and I look quickly away remembering what he did. I touch my ass, which is still sore from the spanking which, followed by, well, by what followed, was the least of my humiliations.
That takes me to what he said earlier. A virginity test? What the fuck? And testing that I’m clean. What about him? I’m sure out of the two of us he’s the one to worry about. I get it he wants to fuck me. Why not? I’m under his control and he’s not made a secret of finding me attractive. Even if he didn’t, he’s a man and men will fuck anything, right? So truly, why not? I’d be different than any woman he’d date. No hassle. And no choices. When he says bend over, I’ll be bending over.
My body’s reaction to it all, though, isn’t what it should be. I shouldn’t be attracted to him. I shouldn’t want him to touch me.
With a groan, I force the thoughts out of my mind and walk into the bathroom. I switch on the light. It, like the rest of the house, is bright and beautiful with its pedestal sink made completely of marble, antique brass fixtures and mirror. I don’t dally, though. I hurry to put on my makeup. What takes the most time is the foundation because I have to layer and blend so well. I meant what I said. It upsets Wren to see it. But I also don’t like anyone staring and they do stare.
He asked if she remembered that night and I hope she never does. Let that be the one blessing of what happened to her. The damage he did.
Ten minutes later, I return to the kitchen to find Cynthia plating an omelet for me. There’s also juice and coffee. Zeke’s gone. I drink the juice first and eat the omelet. I’m starving, again. I feel like I’ve been starving for years.
I’m almost finished my plate when he returns carrying the laptop and the Ziploc containing the gun.
“You ate all that?” he asks, looking surprised.
“I don’t waste food,” I say, wiping the corner of my mouth. I’m sure a man like him has never known hunger, so I don’t bother to explain myself.
He looks at my face and I’m suddenly self-conscious.
“It’s fine,” he says. “You can’t see it.”
I nod, turn to Cynthia. “Thanks for breakfast. That was really good. Are you getting rid of the bacon?” I ask, seeing the extra strips in the pan that she’s carrying toward the sink.
“Unless you want them,” she says, eyebrows raised.
I walk over, pick them out of the pan and eat them, too. “What?” I ask Zeke who is staring at me.
“Nothing. Wash your hands. I don’t want grease in my car.”
I roll my eyes and wash my hands, remembering the first night I was here. Has it only been forty-eight hours?
“Let’s go,” Zeke says and gestures to the front door.
“What are you doing with those?” I ask about the things he’s holding.
“Dropping them off with my brother. I know someone who’s good with computers.” His expression is mocking.
“Oh. There’s nothing on there.”
“Well, then you won’t mind if I just make sure for myself,” he says and opens the front door.
“One more thing,” I say, turning to face him. I pull the chain up from under my dress. “Wren won’t understand what this is.”
He grins. “You can explain it to her. Or I can.”
I shake my head. “This is serious. Take it off.”
“When are you going to learn you don’t call the shots.”
“Please take it off,” I force myself to say. “Just until our visit is over. You can put it right back on after.”
He sighs. “I’m not heartless.” He sets the laptop and the Ziplock down on the table beside the door and takes a small key out of his pocket. “Look up.”
I do. He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his aftershave. He bends down, and I try not think about how I smell hints of leather in his aftershave or feel anything like that ridiculous shudder as his fingertips brush the skin at my throat while he unlocks the delicate but strong chain.
He straightens, eyes locked on me as he slowly pulls it up out of my dress, taking his time as he gathers it up in the palm of one big hand.
“Just keep in mind I did that for you without asking anything in return,” he says, pocketing chain and key.
“You’re so generous.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I think he’s amused. But no, that can’t be right. Is a man like him ever amused?
I blink away and turn to step out into the sunshine where an SUV is parked on the circular drive. He passes me to unlock the door and opens the passenger side, but before I step in, he wraps a hand around the back of my neck, stopping me.
Does he feel that subtle spark of electricity? Does my skin burn his like his does mine? What is it about this man that has me feeling these strange, unfamiliar feelings? I should hate him. At the very least be afraid of him, and in some ways, I am, but there’s something else too. Him offering his protection in exchange for information and my sexual submission, I don’t know, I should rebel at least against that last part, but that’s not what I want to do. I want it. I want all of it.
And out of all of that, I’m stuck on one word: protection.
To be protected. To feel protected.
I haven’t felt protected in a long, long time. I’ve felt hunted.
And out of anyone I have ever known, even my own mother who did the best she could, I feel like if anyone can protect me, if anyone can keep me safe, it’s Zeke.
I try to make my face blank as I look up at him. He can’t know what I’m thinking. He’ll just use it against me. Mock me.
He’s got to be a foot taller than me and, as if to make sure I get the message, he gives my neck a squeeze to show me he’s also much stronger than me. I didn’t need the reminder.
“Why did you tell me that?” he asks.
“Why did I tell you what?”
“About your father.”
I squint up into the sunshine, shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know why you told me, or you didn’t know you wanted that?”
Perceptive, this man. I need to be careful. “Don’t know,” I lie.
“You do. Just to be clear, nothing has changed between us. What I told you last night, it stands. What I’m doing now I’m doing for your sister. Considering what happened to her. You do anything stupid today, and I’ll punish you. And it won’t be a simple spanking. Clear?”
“And you’ll enjoy every moment of my punishment, I’m sure.”
One corner of his mouth curves upward into a grin. “On second thought, do something stupid.”
I roll my eyes and tug free of him to climb into the car.