Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ashleigh
E very inch of me hurts, but none as much as my soul. I’ve heard the term being bone tired and soul tired, but until this moment, I had no physical way of knowing what it was like. As a nepo baby, I never knew exhaustion. I never knew what it was like to be so tired you just want to break down and cry.
Now I know.
Now I understand.
God help me, I never wanted to learn this way.
Tears stream from my eyes and flow down my face as he continues to touch me, taking liberties with my body I would have never allowed him. The salt dries on my skin and stings my lips where it meets the blood trickling down my chin.
I just want to leave my body, to float above where I’m safe. When Dean Anderson caused me pain, I was able to chase that high, to leave everything and everyone behind. Why, when I need it the most, does that sacred space elude me?
“You’ve just been leading me on, haven’t you? You made me believe you were the dean’s pet, but you’re nothing but a fuck toy. Aren’t you?”
Everything in me screams to stay silent, but I can’t. This asshole has it all wrong. At least... I thought he did. Where is my dean? Where is he when I need him the most?
“I- He-. He’s a busy man.”
“Too busy for his whore?”
More tears gather in my eyes. I refuse to believe that’s all I am to the dean. Granted, it’s not like either of us have declared our love, but he didn’t have to say. I felt it in every raw moment between us. He spoke it with the thrusting of his body into mine, in the way he praised me for taking his pain.
There has to be more to it than mere carnality. Then again, I’m still so very young and na?ve. Could I have been wrong about this? About us?
My heart threatens to shatter as he calls the dean yet again. Still no answer. Shouldn’t he have been back at the dorm by now? Shouldn’t he have realized I wasn’t there?
Honestly, what guts me the most is knowing all of this could have been prevented if he actually claimed me in the way the others have been claimed. If he wasn’t so worried about losing me or having me used against him, he would be here by now. He’d know where I was.
Is it pride? Is it shame? If Thatcher continues to get angry, I may never know. Even now, his hand goes for my pants again, and it takes everything in me not to scream out as he slides a finger back into my raw pussy. I can’t give him the satisfaction. I can’t give him the power he so desperately craves.
“Would he care to know how I’m touching you? Caressing you? Do you think he’d care that you’re getting so fucking wet for me? Where is he, Ashleigh? I know you know. Just tell me and I can fuck you like you’re wanting.”
My eyes pop open as I look around the abandoned fairground. Desperation coats my insides and blurs the lines between fantasy and reality. The trees move and shift, turning into figures. But it’s impossible. No one knows where I am. It’s just these horrid lights playing tricks on me.
It must be the exhaustion. Even now, as he forces another finger inside me, I feel my sanity slip until my eyes shutter nearly closed. I can’t take much more before I break. My strength can only hold out so long.
Again, the shadows move behind Thatcher, growing, stretching, becoming human. WWE? Why is there a wrestler here? That’s it. I must have officially cracked.
My breaths come in pained wheezes as he continues to thrust inside me, stretching me out to the point where my tears freely flow down my face. For a moment, I blink, and the wrestler turns into someone I recognize. Sergei? But that’s impossible. It’s just my mind trying to comfort me.
But then he’s joined by another. My dean. God. It’s him. It’s really him. It has to be. Following up the rear is the lethal Russian who masters Chelsea. All of them are here for me.
The tears renew, but this time, they’re happy, relieved. Now that the dean’s here, I can endure anything else that may happen tonight. But first, I need to distract Thatcher, so he doesn’t see them coming up behind.
Locking eyes with Sergei, I give him a small nod to let him know I see him. As he nods back, A loud rattling comes from Caldwell’s cage.
“Help!” he screams out as he shakes the bars. “He’s hurting us!”
Thatcher wrenches away and whirls around to face the three. Disgust rolls off of me as I turn to Caldwell and glare at him. “Good job, idiot.”
“My, my,” the man purrs as he runs his hand over my hair. “So good of you to join us. I was afraid I was going to have to send pieces of little Ashleigh to you one by one.”
“Step away from her,” Dean Anderson growls.
“You’re not in a position to be making demands,” he snaps back, flicking the knife open with a sickening schnick.
The sharp point rests against my jugular, so close to where it was that time with the dean. Only now, things are so much more dire. I hold the scared whimper at bay, determined to not do anything to distract the man.
“What is it you want, Thatcher? You went to a lot of trouble to get me here. Are you sure a meeting couldn’t have sufficed? I’m not so busy that I couldn’t have penciled you in.” His voice is calmed and measured, a balm to my ragged soul.
“I’m sure you would have. But when I tell you what I want, you’ll understand why a meeting just wouldn’t do. What I want is the keys to The Society. Oh, and your little whore for extra measure.” His lips skim my cheek as he holds me closer to him. The scent of his body fills my nostrils, making me heave for a moment. “Tell him how wet you got for me. Tell him how I made you cry so prettily.”
I keep my gaze trained on Dean Anderson and use his strength to help shore me up. The only indication he feels anything in this situation is the way his nostrils flare ever so slightly when Thatcher touches or mentions me. Other than that, he’s a paragon of calm civility.
The waters of his rage must be deep, though. Even Sergei and Master Grigori give him a slight berth as their gazes shift over to him. Their muscles bulge as if priming to grab him and hold him back if needed. But then, this could all just be in my head. It could be the massive delusion of wishful thinking.
When he flits his gaze over to me, however, I’m left with no doubt. The intensity of his stare penetrates me deep into my soul. It’s as if he’s conveying everything and nothing at the same time. My world opens up and yawns in front of me, threatening to drown me as relief floods through me. How could I ever believe I meant so little to him?
“The fact that you can stand here and admit you’ve made her cry... I’m not sure whether you’re psychotic or just stupid.” The growl of his voice rumbles in my ears, causing me to sag in the restraints.
“Neither. You see, I knew you’d find me eventually. Just didn’t think it would take this long. But don’t worry. Your whore was a gracious host.”