Chapter Four
Bast led me into the huge house we’d pulled up to. I was too worked up to take much notice, but I got an impression of dark fittings and floors, with soft cream walls and rugs as he led me down a wide hall to a bathroom.
“Here,” he said. “Strip off and I’ll get you something else to wear for now. You can have a bath if you want to, but let’s get those clothes in the wash.”
I nodded, and he left, closing the door, but not completely.
I kicked off my shoes, and undid the catches on my dungarees, pushing them down my body, and stepping out of them. The room swayed, and I gasped, leaning on the sink to steady myself. I looked in the mirror and saw myself looking back, white as a sheet, my skin and strands of hair damp from vomiting. A memory stirred in my mind, and I slid to the ground, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
“What the fuck have you done now?”
My mother stood in the doorway of my bedroom, silhouetted by the hall light, and I froze, willing my stomach to calm as it roiled and churned inside me.
She turned on the overhead light, and I blinked at the harsh light. My stomach churned again, and I retched again, vomit hitting the bedding and the floor.
I tried to get out of bed to get to the toilet, but my feet tangled in the duvet, and I fell onto the floor. I got to my hands and knees but threw up again. I closed my eyes, waiting for the retching to stop, as my body convulsed painfully over and over again. Thankfully, my stomach seemed to have emptied itself, and I sat down, leaning back against the bed, shaking with cold.
My mother walked into the room and stared down at me. “What a pathetic little bitch you are,” she sneered. “Look at the mess you made.”
I opened my mouth, but she slapped me hard around the face, and I cried out.
“Disgusting!” She looked down at her hand, now with a smear of vomit across it. “Filthy little animal. Lick that off.”
I stared up at her, not sure I’d heard right.
“Lick it off, Paige. I don’t want your mess on my skin.”
I didn’t move, and she reached over, grabbing my hair painfully, and dragging my face to her hand.
“I said, lick it off.”
I did, slowly licking away my vomit from her skin. The muscles in my core convulsed again and again, hurting my ribs, but there was nothing left to come up. She released my hair and stepped back.
“That’s better. Now, you’re covered. Take that off.” She gestured at my nightie, and with shaking hands, I pulled it over my head, leaving myself dressed only in my underwear.
“I’m going back to bed. I want this mess cleaned up now, and that nightie washed out. If I find anything out of place tomorrow, there will be consequences. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, mum.”
The door swung open, and I looked up to see Bast standing there, looking down at me. I scrambled to my feet, picking up my messed-up dungarees.
“I’m sorry, I can wash these if you give me a few minutes,” I said. Bast shook his head.
“Stop apologising,” he told me firmly. “And we have a laundry service, Paige. Pass them to me.”
I hesitated, but he held his hand out, so I rolled them up and handed them to him.
“And the top too,” he said.
I reached down for the hem, and pulled the top over my head, leaving me in just my bra and underwear. He took my top from me and set my clothes down by the door.
“Arms up,” he ordered, and pulled something black over my head. It was soft and huge, swamping me, but a faint scent drifted over my face, and I recognised Tristan immediately.
“It’s big, but Tris is the smallest of us all, so his was the best choice,” said Bast. I wrapped my arms around myself, enjoying the softness against my skin and Tristan’s scent was a surprising comfort. I looked up at Bast, he looked worried, and it made me feel warm inside. He was worried about me.
“The smallest, huh?” I asked, flicking my eyes down his body for a moment, before meeting his gaze again. My voice was still shaky, but I was trying.
Bast caught the innuendo, and grinned. “Definitely the smallest,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in close. I leaned against him, finding comfort in his arms. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone held me, or tried to comfort me, and I sighed as he ran his hand softly over my hair.
“What was that about back there?” he asked.
My eyes snapped back open, and I immediately tensed.
“What do you mean?”
“In the car.”
“I just… the idea of him being in the room made me so scared, I guess it made me sick.”
He reached down and tipped my chin up with his fingers, so I had to look up at him. “That’s completely understandable, but it’s not what I meant, Paige. The way you reacted afterwards about the car-”
“I’m so sorry about the car, I really am. I’ll go clean-” I started to pull away, but he held me tighter against him.
“Paige!” he snapped, and I froze. “I told you to stop apologising. I don’t care about the car. It’s a car, I can get it valeted.”
“But the cost…” I said, the old familiar panic flaring up inside at the questions he might ask. Don’t say anything, cover the bruises, don’t let them see, keep your mouth shut.
“Paige, my father is a billionaire. I could buy a flashy car every day of my life and still not run out of money in my trust fund, and I’ve been investing and building my own businesses since I was eighteen. A couple of hundred quid to get a car cleaned, is like you dropping a penny.”
I blinked up at him, unable to comprehend having that much wealth.
He sighed. “It doesn’t even matter. Paige, I could be penniless, and I still would care more about the fact you were clearly terrified by what happened in that car, than how much it would cost to clean.”
“I…” I trailed off, about to apologise again and not knowing what to say.
“Paige,” he said, holding my gaze steady. “Look at me.” His voice held a note of authority that compelled obedience, and I did as he commanded. He waited until he was sure he had my full attention before continuing.
“I don”t care about the car or your clothes or any other material possession,” he stated flatly. “They”re just things and they can be replaced or fixed.”
He paused, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from my face.
“What matters is you... your safety... your wellbeing.”
I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes again because of the painful memories that resurfaced. An overwhelming feeling of shame washed over me.
“I”m not used to...”
“To what?” He asked softly when I trailed off.
“To someone being...this nice to me,” I admitted quietly, almost whispering out the words. I felt Bast”s arms stiffen around me for a moment before he let out a sigh and pulled me even closer against him.
“You don”t have to get used to it. You just have to accept it, alright? We”re here for you. Yes, your position means you serve us, but this goes both ways, and we will protect you, Paige. All three of us.” His large hands gently cupped my face, tilting it upwards so our eyes met. The intensity in those dark depths took my breath away. “I mean it, Paige,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You”re not alone anymore.”
The tears prickled at my eyes again and I blinked rapidly trying to stem the flow. I didn”t want him to see me cry. But Bast only gave me a soft smile, wiping away a straying tear with his thumb.
“We”ve got you, alright? And nobody,” he added, his gaze hardening into something fierce. “Is going to harm you ever again.”
I could barely believe it. Here was this man who I barely knew offering me safety and protection when all I had felt for so long was fear and isolation.
“Okay.”
He sighed. “Good. Now, there’s new toothbrushes and toothpaste under the sink. When you’re done, come out, turn left and two doors down is the kitchen. Let’s get you a drink and something to eat.”
I did as he said, brushing my teeth and heading down the wide hall to the kitchen. It was stunning. Handmade wooden painted units in black with black granite countertops and copper accessories to match a beaten copper splashback behind the range cooker. A large centre island stood in the middle with four stools on one side, and it was currently covered in an array of plates and dishes of food.
“Are you expecting people over?” I asked, hanging back in the doorway, not quite sure if I should go in.
Bast looked up out of the fridge and glanced at the island top. “No, I just wasn’t sure what you like, and Tristan likes to cook so we always have leftovers and more food than we need. Are you going to keep standing in the doorway, or come in?”
“Yes,” I said, moving into the kitchen. “Can I sit down?” My legs still felt a little shaky, but my stomach had calmed, and I was suddenly starving.
He frowned. “Of course. You don’t need to ask permission to sit down, Paige.”
I nodded, sliding onto one of the stools and looked around at all the plates. Bast sat down on the stool next to me and reached for an empty plate.
“What would you like? There’s tropical fruit, Greek yogurt, and homemade granola, and pastries, though they might need warming up a bit as they’re from yesterday… I would offer to make you bacon or pancakes, but I’ll confess, I have no idea what I’m doing in the kitchen beyond warming stuff up.”
I laughed. “I’m the same. I was never allowed in the kitchen in my house. My mother made everything, and she decided what I got to eat.”
Bast looked at me. “You weren’t allowed in the kitchen at all? Not even to get a drink or a snack?”
I shook my head. “No, I was called in to sit at the table at mealtimes, but she controlled my portion sizes, and I wasn’t allowed snacks. I had a water bottle, and I could fill that from the bathroom tap, so there was no reason for me to be in the kitchen.” I looked over at the plates. “What can I have? What won’t you eat later?”
“Anything,” said Bast, his voice sounding strange. I looked up at him.
“Did I say something wrong?” I asked.
“No. Come on, what would you like to eat? Anything, Paige. Don’t think about us. We’ll buy more food. Just choose something for yourself.”
I bit my lip. I’d practiced this at coffee shops, and the few times I’d been out with Bast and Tristan at restaurants, but that was easy cause I usually picked the cheapest thing on the menu. This was food that belonged to them though, so that was harder.
“What’s going through your head right now, Paige?” he asked gently. “Be honest.”
I sighed. “Ok, so the fruit salad looks lovely, but tropical fruit is expensive. Then again, it’s also fresh so it might go off and be wasted before you guys finish it, so maybe I should pick that, and the same applies to the yogurt. That has an even shorter use by date, which means if I eat it and someone else wants it, someone would have to go out and buy more, so I’m causing inconvenience…” I trailed off and looked up at him, realising he hadn’t said anything. “I’m sorry.”
He stared at me, dark eyes burning with intensity, but said nothing. Instead, he stood up and grabbed a bowl, filling it with fruit, yogurt and granola to the brim before setting it in front of me with a spoon.
“Eat,” he said shortly. “I need to go…do something. I’ll be back in a minute, ok?”
I nodded.
He turned and walked out of the room, and my stomach knotted. Had I upset him somehow? I’d said the wrong thing, I could tell.
A loud crash came from the hallway, and I jerked my head round towards the noise.
“Bast?”
“Knocked something over,” he called back. “Eat, Paige.”
I picked up the spoon and began to eat.