Chapter 52
My hand glides across Rose’s skin, travelling up to tangle in her soft waves.
How can she command me so easily? A simple kiss from her has me abandoning the plan that riddled me with anxiety-plagued second guesses.
I can’t help but feel the time I’m forced to be away from her will do my brain good, no matter how much I loathe the thought of leaving her here unprotected.
My kiss travels across her jaw, moving reverently down her neck.
The urge to spread her out on this mattress and feast until she soaks me infiltrates my pleasure.
The need to taste her swarming me as I drag my tongue across her skin.
She writhes against my cock, the sensation almost enough to distract me from the foul chalky flavour assaulting my taste buds.
My fingers coil tight in the hair at the base of her neck, holding her still.
Rose gasps from the sudden pain, struggling to catch my gaze as I force her head back, showcasing me her throat.
I collect the bitter, waxy residue on my tongue and spit it onto the floor.
The beige colour stands out against the grey carpeting.
“Why are you wearing make-up?” My voice is not at all gentle as an unending loop of negative thoughts carousel around my brain.
“I’m no—”
“Don’t you dare insult me with a fucking lie, flower. I can see it.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” she meekly replies.
“I didn’t ask whose fucking idea it was, I asked why.”
“Because I’m not to be touched by anyone but you.” Her voice is so hushed I can barely make out the words between her increasingly panicked breaths.
“And you were?”
She nods.
“By who?”
She slightly shakes her head, curling her lips around her teeth and biting down to keep the words caged.
“Rose, I cannot keep you safe if you don’t tell me.”
“You cannot keep me safe at all!” she explodes, reefing my fist from her hair and launching herself from my lap. “Not while I’m stuck here. And I will bend to them to keep her safe. You don’t understand.”
Rising from the bed, I close in on her. She backs away from me, but I direct her into the chair, steps faltering as her calves collide with the seat. Rose falls back into the cushions, the forest green dress I previously laid out there falling to the carpet.
Resting my hands on the arms of the plush chair, I confine her.
Leaning in, my lips brush the shell of her ear.
“Listen very carefully, my flower,” I whisper.
“There isn’t a single person here that I wouldn’t kill.
It may not be now, but when the time comes, I’ll do it.
You only need to tell me who. I’ll let you watch if it soothes your soul.
Fuck, I might even let you pull the trigger because the simple thought of your violence awakens a thirst in me I’ve never experienced. ”
“Ripley…” she exhales.
“Shhh, come…eat.” Pulling away, I extend my hand. She hesitantly slips hers into it, and I lead us back to the bed, grabbing the fruit platter along the way.
Rose slinks onto the sheets, lying on her side.
Propped up on one arm, she looks like a deity I have no business being this near to.
Patting the space next to her, I place the food there.
Her confused face finds mine, but I’m pleased to see the bashful expression overcome it when I slide in behind her.
The distance across the bed may as well have been cavernous, and that simply wouldn’t do since I need to coax the truth from between her fearful lips.
Lazily, I drape my arm over her. The position of my body mirrors hers, but the size comparison is laughable. “Hungry?” I murmur against her nape.
“Not really.”
“Want to tell me what happened then?”
The sound of the plastic fruit tray container opening breaks through the silence, and I release a soft chuckle. Such a stubborn woman. It’s not like I won’t get what I want from her eventually.
“Which fruit is your favourite?” she asks over her shoulder, eyes more green than I’ve seen them before.
“Pineapple. Yours?”
“Hmm. Strawberry… or peaches. But only if they are the sweet and juicy kind of peaches. Not the hard ones that taste like crap.”
“Note to self: Rose is picky about her food.”
“I’m not,” she objects, digging her elbow into my gut. “I just like my food to taste like food.”
Extending my hand, I pick up a slice of peach from the tray. “Well, try this, and let me know if it meets your not picky standards.” Bringing the fruit to her mouth, she takes a bite, humming in satisfaction. I pop the remaining piece between my lips, and I have to say, it’s pretty fucking good.
I mull over her earlier words as the juices slide down my throat. Something standing out so blatantly I can’t believe I missed it.
Leaning close, my voice so faint I wonder if she can hear it, “Who are you protecting, Rose?” Her body goes rigid against mine as she clams up, not offering me so much as a poorly constructed lie.
The silence hangs uncomfortably. I watch as she eats in silence, clearly fighting some internal battle.
Piece by piece, I down all the pineapple on the platter. Wondering why on earth someone wouldn’t fight back against the abuse being brought upon them.
But I know why. I’ve been there. Protecting a sibling that’s since escaped away into the night, never to be heard from again.
“Is it your mom?” I ask. Rose says nothing still.
So I watch the way her body responds to my questions, feeling the way her diaphragm moves against my hand as I pull her into my body, erasing any distance between her back and my chest. I want to feel it when her heart rate spikes, the fear overtaking her in a way she can’t lie about.
“Your dad?” No response. “I met him, you know?” Her body stills unnaturally.
“After I saw you that first day…” the memory pummels through me.
How she screamed. The way a smile curved her lips, despite her situation.
It was then I knew she’d handle whatever I threw at her.
“He approached me. Asking if I’d seen…” Rose whimpers, and I’m sure I’ve figured it out.
Knowing that if I say it aloud and they somehow hear through the camera feed, it could ruin everything Rose has done to protect her.
“Stop,” she pleads.
“Am I right?”
A nod. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Other than your father, your family didn’t seem too worried. They thought yo—“
“Those cunts aren’t my family.”
Her repeated use of the word has things clicking into place within my thoughts, my suspicions are almost never wrong.
“What happened?” I cup her face, coaxing her to turn my way, curl into me for support if needed.
She follows my lead beautifully, nuzzling her face into my bare chest, inhaling deep.
“Do I still smell good? ‘Expensive’, I think you said.”
She groans into my skin, the sound resonating through my chest cavity. “Yes,” she mumbles, “you still smell good and expensive.” I chuckle. “Like sex and dinosaur obsession.” My small rumble turns into a full-belly laugh at her quick wit.
“I don’t smell like sex…yet,” I reply, capturing her chin between my fingers and tilting her face up. She blushes an alluring shade of red, reminding me of our encounter last night. How her soft skin responds to the hard crack of my palm.
Rose’s eyes jump around my features, taking me in as a whole, hopefully recognizing the sincerity I’m working hard to present. “They sold me…us…” she spills. “Like we were nothing more than objects.”
I can’t even begin to understand the rage she must feel, the betrayal. I’m sure it pales in comparison to the feelings I had being abandoned by my younger kin, forced to weather the brutality alone. But betrayal is a slap in the face, a knife to the gut, or a bat to the knees, no matter the form.
Next to me she slowly crumbles, like sand being swept away by the sea faster than the castle can be repaired. She tries to keep composure, stuffing the feelings down, searching for that anger she felt before, but a sob breaks from her throat.
Something ugly blooms beneath my sternum, a ravenous desire to hunt, maim, torture.
Bleed them dry and fuck my woman in the blood of those that wronged her.
However, I’ll never let them get close to her again.