Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
ROWAN
M y skin is burning.
It feels both charred and raw. The urge to refrain from peeling it off completely is a losing battle.
It’s crazy how with each day that passes, the itch ramps up to a whole new level of misery.
I thought Tuesday was bad and Wednesday was definitely a shit show, but today?
Fuck, today has been the absolute worse.
I’ve been rubbing up against every corner like a damn cat trying to calm the wretched prickle ache flaring up all over me.
The scratching has put me in a sour mood, one that’s kept my court arm’s length away as they skirted around me—sensing danger. I should appreciate the space. It’s given me time to think when otherwise I’d be too in the moment to worry about much else.
But my thoughts have recently become introspective thanks to my new queen, and none of them bring me any comfort.
I’ve tried, and failed, to find something beyond the superficial that makes me worthy of the love and devotion Everly has so easily given to Vick.
I know I’m better than that asshole. I just can’t quite figure out how to articulate it in a way that matters to my queen.
And maybe to myself.
My grip on the tray in my hand tightens as I come up to the glass double doors that lead into the indoor pool.
“Wow,” Jonathan says, whistling as he watches me approach. “The pussy must be really good to be fucking waiting on her hand and foot like this.”
My jaw ticks.
I stop in front of Jonathan and Sheldon, who have been tasked to watch the doors to keep security and other patients out for the evening and wait.
Sheldon moves to open one of the doors for me.
As he does, I wait for Jonathan to stop eyeing the food on my tray.
When his eyes jerk up to my face, I smile.
It feels brittle and cold, so very unlike the shearing burn beneath my skin.
“If I ever hear you talking about your queen’s pussy again, I’ll make sure the doctors castrate you. Got it?”
Jonathan’s face pales as Sheldon snickers.
“Yes, sir!” he says, nodding vigorously.
I glare at him a second longer before stalking through the door and into the large open space beyond it.
The soft sound of water lapping against the side of the large indoor pool echoes up into the tall ceilings.
The pleasant noise does nothing to help distract me from the persistent, uncomfortable itch beneath my skin as I head back to the girl waiting for me and the dinner I promised.
It’s when I catch sight of her that the incessant need to rake my nails across every inch of my body lessens abruptly. It doesn’t go away completely, but this is easier to manage than what I’ve been enduring.
The lower half of Everly’s body is floating atop the water, her legs gently kicking to help keep herself afloat. The other half she’s keeping safely out of the pool, using her arms to anchor herself at the edge of it, to keep the wound on her neck from being submerged.
My eyes skate over her body. Out of all three boxes of clothes donated by the women of my court, there had been only one bathing suit. The little black two piece covers practically nothing. Right now her tits strain against the two triangles attempting to cover her nipples.
I don’t mind the view.
What I do mind are the bruises littering her skin. Tarnished. She’s fucking tarnished because of Braum. Luckily, the bruises will fade over time. Fucking Braum. He’s lucky he left an even number of bruises on her skin, or I’d have to be the bad guy and add another.
He knows how I am with symmetry.
Pushing away my annoyance, I lower myself to sit next to her and place the tray between us. My legs sink into the warm water, which feels good after the hard workout Chad put me through this morning.
“Eat up,” I order sharper than I intend. After a long day of feeling itchy and strangely worthless, my patience is at its end.
Everly’s eyes flutter halfway open and turns to look at me.
“I was just thinking about something,” she starts slowly. “Why can I picture you with blue hair?”
Her question is unexpected but what’s even more so is how it brings a smile to my face.
“Because I did have blue hair. It was for a perfume commercial. I was a punk skater kid who saw a girl from the other side of the tracks and, to win her over, I had to spray the cologne on me. The producers were going to just add the blue later, during the edits, but I offered to dye it,” I tell her with a chuckle. “It lasted three months.”
Everly’s mouth curls so slightly I don’t think it can really be considered a smile, but it comes close. She pulls herself up out of the water and joins me, sitting on the edge of the pool. I watch as she moves, wondering how Vick managed to woo this gorgeous woman.
What qualities could he possibly possess that warrants unwavering devotion from Everly? Courage? Strength? Vick has a bit of both, I suppose, but so do I. Yet Everly isn’t falling head over heels for me. There must be something else. It has to go deeper than something obvious.
Frustration blooms like a mushroom cloud in my chest.
It would be nice to at least know what I’m lacking. At least then I know what I can improve upon. One thing’s for certain, if I don’t have what it takes to win her over, I’ll make sure I acquire it. One way or another, I’m going to find the key to winning Everly’s heart.
That fucking organ beating in her chest is invaluable.
The love it’s swollen with gives her strength to see things through.
I have no doubt in my mind that this girl would give her life to Vick if he asked for it.
It’s because she loves him that she’s blind to the flaws everyone else can see in the asshole.
She accepts every facet of him and doesn’t seem to care about the rest. I want that. Need it.
It's on the tip of my tongue to simply fucking ask her what she needs in order to fall for me as deeply as she has for Vick. I choke down the urge to voice the question. I tell myself that I can figure it out on my own, that speaking up definitely isn’t smart because there’s a potential to face real rejection or be told there’s nothing noteworthy or special about me.
“I remember that commercial now,” Everly says as she gets situated, that small, almost-smile teasing the corners of her mouth grows incrementally. “I went and bought that cologne for my brother for Christmas. It smelled awful.”
I bark a surprised laugh. The sound echoes around the space, bouncing off the walls and the water.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Like a skunk’s ass.”
Reaching over, I grab our plates and hand Everly hers. She takes it as her brows rise.
“Is this chicken curry?”
I nod. “Yup. I hope you like spicy food.”
Everly takes the plate and places it in her lap before giving me a warm smile. The sight of it twists up my insides and leaves me suddenly feeling breathless.
“I do,” she admits. “Thank you.”
Finally, a fucking win. Sure, it’s a simple smile but it feels like a step in the right direction. I make a mental note: feed Everly spicy foods. Check.
I hand her the plastic silverware and she takes that as well, her expression turning curious.
“They let patients have knives?”
“Nope,” I rip open the protective plastic and use the utensils to cut into my dinner. I’m fucking starving. “But I’m not just any patient. I’m a motherfucking king, baby.”
I shoot her a wink, and it earns me an exasperated eye roll.
I’ve been getting a lot of these today. They’re both adorable and irksome.
I was expecting a little gratitude since I allowed her to walk around Bowbrook’s library rather than be cooped up in a cage while I was in my classes.
With supervision from my most trusted members of court, Everly was allowed to roam the aisles and read to her heart’s content.
I thought giving her a little freedom would be a step in the right direction.
Yet each time I came to visit between classes to talk to her, I found myself talking to a wall that could roll its eyes at me.
Maybe I pissed Everly off because I forced her to wake up to come watch as I worked out with Chad?
In retrospect, after waking her up at the ass crack of dawn to my cum soaking into the back of the shirt I let her borrow as I came mid-wet dream and with my fingers buried in her pussy, I probably should’ve saved face and just went to the gym myself.
But the thought of being separated from her brought the itch back tenfold.
Everly opens her utensils and pokes at her food. I inhale mine. I’m halfway through when she says in a small voice, “I liked the blue hair.”
I finish the bite I’m chewing on before I glance her way. She’s staring down at her food thoughtfully, pushing it occasionally with her fork. She hasn’t taken a bite yet.
“Yeah, I liked it too.” I roll my eyes. “But Dad didn't, so it had to go.”
The small bite of chicken curry Everly takes, eases something in my chest. She’s barely eaten anything since she’s been in our care.
I’m not sure if the lack of appetite stems from an eating disorder—I wouldn’t be surprised given how common it is in our social circles—or if it’s some form of strike until she gets the hell out of here.
When she’s done chewing, she looks at me again. “What does your dad have to do with your hair? Aren’t you independently successful?”
I nearly choke on the last bite of my food. It takes hitting my chest with my fist to dislodge the chicken. When it’s gone, I give her a pointed look.