23. Ezekiel
23
Ezekiel
W hen I pull away from Blue, she makes a sound and leans against me, holding onto the arm I have draped across her stomach, which surprises me. I still and only when her grip loosens do I draw out from inside her. A rush of blood and come spills onto her thighs and mine, stains the once pristine sheets a dark red.
Blue is shivering. I stand, look down at her. I pick up the chain attached to her collar and bind her to the bed then pull the blanket up over her. I don’t say a word. Not yet. I don’t know what to say.
What the fuck was that? I meant to take her, to bend her over and take her and show her who she belonged to. I did not intend on allowing her to come. And I certainly did not intend on kissing her. Holding her.
I walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
What the fuck was that?
I grip the edge of the counter and look at myself in the mirror. My face is scratched, my lips are swollen and cut. My shoulders and biceps, too, are decorated with crescent-moon marks left by her fingernails. That I expected. I took her hard. I felt her resistance, and pushed through the barrier and claimed her as mine.
Mine.
What the fuck?
I rake a hand through my hair before turning away from my reflection and switching on the shower. I should have done as I promised and taken her ass. She wouldn’t hold on to me then, I am sure. I couldn’t though. The look in her eyes, the scent of her, the promise of virgin blood, it was too much. Too irresistible.
And I didn’t want to hurt her. As tight as she is, I’d have split her in two if I’d taken her ass. She’ll need to be prepared to take me there because as much as I hate to admit it, I wanted to watch her come undone. I wanted her to cling to me. To want me.
To want me.
Fuck.
I don’t fucking understand.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. That’s the expression, right? I just need to remember that to allow her pleasure, to make her come, doesn’t make me any less of what I am.
The beast pillaging the virgin half his size.
I swipe my finger over her blood drying on my dick, my thighs and bring it to my mouth. I lick it off. Sick. I know. But there should be no doubt that I am that beast.
Water runs pink down the drain washing away her blood. The dark thing inside me likes the look of it, one word repeating over and over in my head.
Mine.
I’ve had a lot of women, but not one of them was a virgin. Well, apart from my first. We were kids then, both of us sixteen. I didn’t know what I was doing. Tonight, what I did, I did fully aware.
It doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself, turning my face up to the flow of water. It’s just bodies. Just fucking. Virgin or not, pussy is pussy. That’s all. That’s all it’s been for me for a very long time.
But kissing her. Fuck. Kissing her. I couldn’t stop, even when she bit me. I couldn’t stop kissing her and to think of it now makes me want it again.
I switch off the shower and grab a towel, wiping water from my face and hair. The mirror has fogged so I don’t have to look at myself. Wrapping the towel low over my hips, I return to the bedroom to find Blue sitting up in the bed. She’s hugging her knees and although the blanket is pulled tight around her, she’s shivering. Her hair is wild, her lips are swollen, her eyes a little lost. A lot accusing.
Guilt gnaws at me, twists something inside me. I’m about to ask her if she’s all right, but my cell phone rings from inside my jacket pocket, and I cross the room to pick it up. When I see it’s Jericho, I answer.
“Yeah,” I say. I feel her eyes on me as I walk out of the room.
“Where are you?”
“At the house.”
“The girl?”
“Here too. Where would she be?”
“We’re coming over.”
“Why?”
“She needs to answer some questions.”
“What questions?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“I need half an hour.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Fine.”
This seems to be how conversations with my brother go these days.
I disconnect and walk down the hall into the bedroom where Cynthia unpacked some of my things that Jericho had sent over. I pull on a pair of jeans, a light V-neck sweater, socks and shoes. I comb my hair and bring my hands to my nose. Her scent lingers there. It’s faint, but it’s there. At least I think I’m not imagining it.
Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me?
There’s a bathtub in this room. I’ll wash her. Make sure she’s all right. The bathroom in Blue’s room only has the shower stall. I run a bath, testing the temperature, and plugging the tub. As it fills up, I walk back out into the hallway and see Blue’s ruined clothes on the floor, that tote bag on its side. I pick up the tote, her underthings, the ruined dress. When I do, though, something falls out of her pocket. I stop, look at it. It’s a rolled-up wad of cash that’s been rubber-banded together.
What the fuck? I bend to pick it up, take off the rubber band. At a quick glance, there’s another grand, maybe two here.
That guilt of moments ago evaporates. I stalk into the bedroom where Blue hasn’t moved. Granted, she can’t. But that’s what you get when you try to run.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask, holding up the money.
She looks at it, her mouth falling open.
“Where did you get this, Blue?”
“I’m really cold. And I need to use the bathroom,” she says, trying to sound defiant but I see how her lower lip is trembling, how her eyes are filling up, the skin around them already pink. She is at my mercy. She is more mine than she can possibly understand. That twisting in my gut is back at the sight of her like this.
Helpless.
Defenseless.
The man I’ve become over the years is a cold, wretched thing, a beast. Maybe it’s the last shred of anything human inside me, anything that feels, but seeing her like this softens me. With a sigh, I reach to unhook the chain from her collar. When I do, I expect her to scurry away, but she doesn’t. She remains as she is looking at me. Is she waiting for permission?
“I’m running a bath for you in the other room. Come.” I hold out my hand.
She doesn’t move.
“Come Blue. It will be more comfortable for you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would you care if something is more comfortable for me?”
“Honestly?” I push my hand through my hair. “I have no fucking idea, but I do.”
She studies me and I find I can’t look at her. Instead, I gather up the throw draped over the arm of a chair and hold it out for her. She gets up, and I see the blood that’s dried on her thighs. She steps into the blanket, and I wrap it around her shoulders. She shivers as I lead her out to the room next door and when we reach the bathroom, the tub is half full. I sit on the edge to test the water again before standing and offering her a hand.
She ignores it and gets in on her own, discarding the blanket, her back to me. Her ass still bears the imprint of my hand. I don’t miss her hiss when she sits and watch the water turn pink as she rubs blood off her thighs.
Seeing this, her like this? Well, I am exactly the asshole she accuses me of being.
“I should have been gentler. I hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Yeah, you did. You wanted to punish me, to show me that you are in control, and you did. At least be honest about it.”
“That’s not...” I trail off, dropping it. I remind myself she’s keeping secrets from me. Playing me for a fool. “Where’s the money from?”
“The apartment. I kept it separate of the rest in case anyone ever broke in. Never put all your eggs in one basket.” From behind I see her wipe her face. She’s crying. Again.
“At the restaurant why did you run?” Because I don’t like how I felt about her running. Because in some way, maybe I thought, well, fuck. Who the fuck knows what I thought? My brain is fucking broken and I’m not making any fucking sense, not when it comes to Blue.
She glances over her shoulder at me, shakes her head then turns back, picking up the bottle of body wash and squeezing some onto her hands to wash herself. She looks, in a word, defeated.
This is not what I want.
I cross the room to sit on the edge of the tub and take the body wash. She only resists momentarily but gives it up. I pour some onto my hands and begin to wash her, taking care with her, feeling her soft, vulnerable flesh beneath my hands.
She remains silent as I finish washing her. She looks up at me when I hold out my hand, palm up, and takes it, letting me help her out of the tub. Water cascades over her skin before I wrap her in a towel and turn her to face me, holding onto her.
“Tell me why you ran.”
“Do you just expect me not to try? To just be your puppet, do what you say?”
“We have an arrangement.”
“ You have an arrangement. I have no choice.”
“I told you?—”
“Do you think that I don’t know what you can do to me?” she snaps. “Do you think I’m not fully aware you could twist my neck and the effort wouldn’t even make you break a sweat? You could then dump my body somewhere on the grounds here, hell, you don’t even have to bury me it’s so vast. And who would come looking for me? No one. No one would know. No one would care. Well, one person would. But she can’t come looking, can she? And tell me something else. Say that happens…” Emotion makes her falter.
“It’s not going to.”
“Say it does. What happens to her? What happens to my sister who has already lost so much?” she asks, tears streaming down her face that she wipes at angrily. “What happens to Wren when the checks that pay for her care stop coming? What do you think they do with her? Keep her there out of the goodness of their hearts? That’s not how this world works, Zeke .”
“It’s not going to get to that point.”
“Have you ever seen a state-run facility? Do you know the shit that happens there? Especially to those who have no one to stand up for them. No one to look after them and care about them.”
“You’re getting yourself worked up.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just being realistic.” She breaks free of my hold. “So, if you’re pissed I tried to run, too bad for you.” She sets her jaw stubbornly. “I would do it again if I had the chance!”
“There she is, my Little Convict.”
“I’m not yours.” She tries to shove past me.
I capture her arm. “Oh, but you are. You’re mine and if you try something like that again?—”
“What? What will you do, Zeke? Spank me?”
I narrow my eyes, study her features, those cerulean eyes that have seen so much evil and yet manage to remain so innocent in their own way. So fucking na?ve.
But na?ve can get a girl killed. Doesn’t she know that?
“You need me, Blue. More than you realize.”
“Let me go.”
“And no, I wouldn’t spank you to punish you. You like that too much.”
“Fuck you.”
“That, too, you like too much,” I say, attempting to smile. I expect her to deny it. I prepare myself for her to, but she only flushes pink, glances away. “And I like it too much.” I walk her backward to the wall and cage her in. “I like it too much, Blue.” I kiss her mouth and the twisting in my gut of earlier morphs into something else. Something with wings. I draw back to look at her searching, wounded eyes. “We have an arrangement, you and me. I don’t break my word. I will protect you. I will keep you safe from your father and anyone else who tries to hurt you. I swear it. Do you understand?”
“Zeke—”
“In exchange you will give me back my duffel bag and once I’m certain you don’t have more on that little computer of yours that can endanger my family or myself, we’ll see about next steps.”
“No. Not we’ll see about next steps. Next steps means you let me go once you realize there’s nothing more.”
“Let you go how? Penniless? What will you do? Get Wren and what? I saw your car in the parking lot of the apartment. At least I’m pretty sure it’s yours given the license plates. Does it even run?”
“It’s fine.”
“You have no money. No mode of transport.”
“I have some money.”
“Two grand won’t cut it. Not if you want to give Wren the kind of help she needs.”
“What are you proposing then?”
“You stay with me. Do as you’re told. We handle this. Figure it all out. You need my help not only for yourself but for Wren. I’ll make sure Wren is properly cared for.”
She opens her mouth, closes it again. Her expression is confused. “Why would you do that?” she finally asks. “Why would you help me?”
I study her face, search her eyes. How do I answer this? “Because I wasn’t able to help someone else, before you.” I feel my throat close up. I clench my teeth and swallow the pain of my chest tightening. Am I telling her this? Am I saying it? “And she died,” I hear the words come out of my mouth and I feel as stunned as she looks.
Blue’s eyes fill like wells.
“But you have to trust me, Blue. You can’t do what you did tonight. You’re not safe. You don’t know everything.”
“What does that mean?”
“You have to trust me. And if not me, well, then trust my motives are selfish if that makes it easier to swallow. I am alleviating my own guilt by helping you. Think of it as my atonement.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. You only have to accept and agree.”
“What did that mean? That I don’t know everything?”
“Your father made parole. He’ll be out of prison within two weeks.”