Chapter 11 Mirabelle
Mirabelle
Ash’s eyes are a mesmerizing silver with green flecks when you look really closely. Well, they were silver.
Now, as he snarls above me, pinning me painfully to the concrete below us, his pupils are blown so wide you can barely see anything other than darkness.
I was surprised when we were left alone. With the way Jett made things seem, he expected me to die tonight. Even though Ash was growly and a little mean, he didn’t hurt me. Or tear my throat out, as much as he threatened it.
But now? I’m not so sure.
Ash was flinching in his sleep, making these guttural noises that woke me up. It sounded like he was in pain, so I reached out to shake him awake.
I’m realizing that was probably a terrible idea.
All the handlers here had been calling the fighters feral. It wasn’t until now that I realized why they’re called that.
Ash’s hold is punishing. There’s no give. No chance of escape.
His chest heaves, and his lips are curled back in an unnatural snarl. There’s no sign of recognition on his face. He’s... lost.
I could tell from the moment that I focused on him, after Jett and the other handlers left the room, that he’s the type of person who’s always thinking.
As I stare up at his face now, my heart pangs in my chest. It must be torture to be stuck in a body that locks away his own mind.
My limbs fall limp as I relax into the hold he has, pinning my wrists beside my head. If he sees me as prey, then fighting back will do nothing to help me.
His smoky sage scent thickens, almost suffocating me with its intensity. It’s like the entire barn is burning around us, and I’m caught in the firestorm that is him.
He lowers his head, and his teeth scrape along the base of my neck.
“Mine,” he grits out.
My heart almost explodes out of my chest.
With the way his scent twists in the air, the murderous rage seems to fall to the backseat behind an overwhelming wave of pure, unadulterated need.
I may have been locked away in the facility all my life, but I know exactly what he intends to do.
“Not like this,” I whimper, my eyes fluttering shut.
I don’t want to be bonded like this.
It strikes me that my first impulse is to think not like this. I think part of me likes the idea of being bonded to someone. Belonging to them and them to me. Being protected and safe and never having to worry about rules or punishments ever again.
But I don’t have time to unpack that, because my whimper seems to have drawn Ash out of his hazy fog.
It’s a slow transition. It starts with his breathing. Then he’s pushing himself up, letting go of my hands, and blinking down at me, confused.
His pupils slowly get smaller, and then there it is: recognition.
My lips quirk up into a wobbly smile.
“Hi, you’re back!” I whisper, swallowing hard.
He goes deathly pale before pushing himself off of me, his back slamming painfully into the wall. The chains attached to the cuffs on his wrists clink as he runs his hands through his hair.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He hisses.
My fingers tingle as I push myself up, flexing my sore forearms. I wince as I glance down at them. They’re probably going to bruise.
“It’s okay,” I say, scooting closer to him and reaching a tentative hand out.
I freeze right before touching his arm, remembering the way his body moved like a coiled snake when I reached out and touched him in his sleep.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He bites out, lifting his head to shoot me a glare.
My shoulders curl inwards as I brace myself against the thick wave of his charred sage scent. Goosebumps rise on my arms, the chill of the drafty wind kissing my skin.
“Why—why are you so angry?”
“Why? Seriously? You’re asking me why?” He lets out a bitter laugh, throwing his head back.
I can’t help but compare the grating sound to Griffin and Rowan’s laughter, and my heart breaks a little. Ash must’ve been through terrible things to react like this. I shouldn’t take it personally.
Plenty of the girls at the facility would act moody and lash out at everyone around them because of the punishments they were given.
I still stayed. I still listened. I still tried to help.
I can do the same with Ash.
It’s what I was brought here to do, anyway.
“I am,” I nod, taking a deep breath and bracing myself against his nearly overwhelming dominance.
The confirmation seems to shock him, because he just stares and blinks at me for a couple of seconds.
“You’re serious,” he scoffs. “Why the hell were you just lying there and taking it? Why didn’t you—I dunno—fight back or something!”
It’s my turn for my brows to draw down in confusion.
“You thought I was prey, right?” At his reluctant nod, I continue. “Fighting back would’ve just made you more upset.”
“I could’ve ripped your throat out,” he says, his voice strained.
“I don’t... I don’t think that’s what you were planning on doing,” I say, wrapping my arms around my legs to brace myself against the cold.
I’m not dripping wet anymore, so my teeth aren’t chattering, but it’s still freezing, especially after I’ve gotten used to the warmth of Ash’s arms. He’s almost like a furnace.
“And that would’ve been a fate worse than me ripping your fucking throat out and you bleeding out on this concrete floor,” he growls. “I’m a monster. The last thing you need is to be biologically chained to someone like me for the rest of your life.”
“I don’t think you’re a monster.”
His gaze drops to my arms and the faint red outlines of his handprints.
“Well, then I think you’re dumber than you look,” he grits out.
“Oh,” I say, resting my chin on my knees.
He blinks at my reaction. He seems to do a lot of blinking when I catch him by surprise. I’m so curious about what he’s thinking about.
I don’t think he’d actually give me an answer if I asked.
“You’re insane,” he mutters. “You should run as far away as you can from me, so why are you still sitting here?”
“You didn’t mean to hurt me,” I answer plainly. “The handlers here hurt me because they like it. Or because it serves a purpose in their plans. This,” I say, nodding down to my arms, “Was an accident.”
He narrows his silver eyes at me, and a frustrated growl leaves his throat.
“Fucking come here, you’re freezing,” he says, scrubbing a hand down his face.
I scoot closer to him, and he pulls me between his legs, tucking me into his chest. His hold is surprisingly gentle, all things considered.
He traces the outline of where he pinned me down, his calloused fingertips brushing along my skin and sending sharp sparks of electricity up my arms.
“Does that happen often?” I murmur softly.
He stiffens behind me, the warm muscles of his chest flexing against my exposed back.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“Sometimes,” he says after a pause. “It’s been happening more frequently. I feel like I’m going fucking insane.”
“Do you want to talk about it? I’ve heard from people I’m a good listener.”
“You’re the only one who’s bothered even asking for as long as I’ve been here,” he says, his laughter harsh. At this rate, I don’t know if he’s capable of any other laugh.
“And how long have you been here?”
“About eight years.”
“That’s a long time for no one to ask how you’ve been doing,” I say, grabbing my messy hair and sliding it over one shoulder so I can turn and see him better.
He gives me an incredulous look.
“I know you haven’t been here long, but you’re fucking joking, right? Has anyone asked you how you feel about being dragged around, chained up, and stripped down like an animal? No one here gives a shit about anyone but themselves.”
I flinch at his harsh words.
The reality of the situation is obvious in everything around us: my nakedness, the cold concrete floors, the chains.
But I think part of my brain forgets how terrible things are when I’m wrapped in his arms, surrounded by his charred sage scent.
When he’s not terribly upset, the woodsy and herbal sage soothes my frayed nerves like a drug.
“Someone cares about me,” I say weakly. “Two someones, actually.”
“Really? Who?” He scoffs.
“Well, Rowan. He’s really sweet. And there’s Griffin, too. He was really protective.”
“And who the hell are these people?” Ash growls, his voice taking on an almost possessive tone.
But that wouldn’t make sense. Ash has made it clear he only tolerates my presence. He’s only entertaining whatever’s going on between us because he doesn’t want me to die.
“Rowan is Jett’s younger brother,” I say, my eyes going wide when Ash’s expression twists into a snarl. “He’s nice! I promise! He’s given me clothes to wear and his own bed to sleep in. He hasn’t taken advantage of me at all.”
“Uh huh, shortcake.” He doesn’t believe me. I can practically feel the sarcasm dripping from every word. “And who’s the other guy?”
“Griffin? He’s the new fighter the handlers bought. I was brought in to see him first.”
Ash looks like he’s filing away all of this information for later. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but the intensity of his gaze is freaking me out.
“Tell me, will I get to be on that list after this whole shitshow is done?” He growls.
I tilt my head, my gaze darting between his narrowed eyes.
“Do you want to be?” I ask slowly, not wanting to answer incorrectly. If I answer based on what he told me earlier, when he first tugged me into his arms before his nightmare, he wants nothing to do with me.
But he’s also kept me alive.
“And if I do?” He shoots back, answering my question with a question.
“If you do, then you’re on the list. But if you don’t want to be, then you’re not.”
“I don’t think I like that fucking non-answer.”
“I—I just don’t want to give you the wrong one,” I huff.
“I asked you the question, didn’t I? So I expect an actual fucking answer. Your answer. If I didn’t give a shit, I wouldn’t ask.”
I nod slowly, my eyes tracing his sharp jawline and the hint of red I can see across the top of his cheekbone as he glances away.