Chapter 10
River
Idon’t touch the food.
I’m starving, but I can’t eat the way they want me to.
The little bit of strength I had earlier seems to have left me.
Instead I sit on the floor, my legs pulled tightly to my chest, my arms wrapped around my legs as I rest my head on my knees.
They talk, and I try my hardest to tune it out.
But I still hear pieces of their conversation.
They make no secret of how they plan to break me.
Their plans to flood me with their scents, forcing my heat to come sooner.
When Miles mentions a shot, my ears perk up.
My pulse quickens and I can feel my heart beating against my ribs.
If they force my heat, will I be able to fight back?
Would I be able to stop them from bonding with me?
They don’t care that we’re not a scent match or that I don’t even want to bond with them.
My breath hitches, and I wish I had a razor to give me something else to feel other than what I am right now.
To give me just a small bit of control. It’s why I started cutting in the first place.
It was a way to handle what was happening at home with my dad.
“Sweetmeat, you’re turning me on with the way you're scenting the room.” Ray inhales deeply, letting out a low, deep groan.
“Aww, she didn’t know we could force her heat. You’d be surprised what we can do,” Elliot says giddily, as if he were a child who just learned a secret or got a new present.
“Cut it out,” Miles barks from his throne at the head of the table. “And you need to eat.” I can feel the alpha force in his words bearing down on me to comply. My body tenses, doing everything it can not to comply.
But I fail.
I reach toward the plate, fingers trembling, as I bite down on the inside of my lip. My hand lingers over the plate, and I can feel Miles' anger rising.
“Eat.” His voice rises, and I can’t fight back the urge to obey. I pick up a piece of carrot and lift it to my mouth, taking a small bite off of it. It’s been cooked so it's more mushy than crunchy, but my stomach welcomes the sustenance.
I pull a piece of meat from the roast, and slowly chew it, my mind hyperfixated on the shot they spoke about. Their conversation has moved from me to how my training will commence. They’re expecting me to break. I can’t though. I need to fight them. No way in hell are they giving me an Arcane bond.
I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead just before a bead slides down my face and lands on my hand. My eyes lock on it. It’s a lot of water for sweat, then another bead hits in the same spot.
Before I can even react, a large hand is taking hold of my face, jerking it upward until I’m gazing directly at Ray. “Exactly how I want you. Crying at my feet.” He sticks out his tongue running it up the length of my cheek, collecting what I now know are tears and not sweat falling onto my hand.
I shudder at his touch but he doesn’t stop there. He presses his mouth to mine, forcing his tongue against my lips until he pries them open, darting inside my mouth. I try to push him away but he’s too strong and overpowers me.
My first kiss.
Tarnished. Just like everything else in my life. It wasn’t some magical event like I dreamed it would be with an explosion of fireworks and the legendary foot pop you see in movies. It was rough and taken without my permission. Now that moment is lost and I can never get it back.
“Delicious, I can’t wait until you’re crying while I fuck you. Nice and rough. Just how I like it, Sweetmeat.”
He lets go of me and I close my eyes, holding back the tears that want to spill. I don’t want to see the smug satisfaction on his face at causing me to cry.
“Stop playing with the toy while we eat.” Miles’ deep, collected voice drifts to my ears. “There will be time for that later. I had an interesting call from her father today.”
“Really? What did he want, more money? It’s not like he has another daughter we want,” Elliot says smugly, an evil laugh erupting at the end that has shivers running down my spine.
My ears perk up. He’s had a change of heart. My dad has finally realized that selling his daughter is insane. That there was no way he could get away with it long term.
“Well, that and he wanted to let me know something else. Seems the son reached out to him when he couldn’t get ahold of River. He wanted to warn me he might be trouble,” Miles states calmly as he meticulously cuts his meat, before stabbing a piece of roast and lifting it to his mouth.
“Did her douchebag father tell him where she is? Are we able to have a little more fun?” Ray bounces in his seat, his face lit up with excitement.
“He told her brother that River broke her phone, but the asshole doesn’t know if he believed it,” Miles says after swallowing his food.
“Let her brother come. I’ll rip his heart out of his chest and then fuck our omega with his blood on my hands. I’ll even be sure to rub her clit, making sure she comes with his blood on it.”
I gag. Then a mixture of anger and fear overtakes me, weaving its way through my brain until it’s all I can think about. As much as I want him to come home, find and rescue me, I’m scared for his life. I know if he comes here, these three psychopaths will kill him. And that would be my fault.
They continue to talk but I tune it out as I push the food on my plate around with my fingers. I don’t want to eat. I can’t. But I need to look like I am.
“You played with your food. It’s your loss. Instead of going to bed with a full stomach, you’ll be hungry.” Miles takes my chains from Ray and leads me back to my room. His speed is one that I don’t feel like I have to run to keep up with him.
Entering the room, I feel nothing but emptiness. I need to feel something. To have something other than this to feel.
“I suggest you get your rest.” Miles doesn’t have an iota of compassion in his words.
“Um, can I ask you for something?” My voice cracks, but this is my chance.
“Of course.” He pauses, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“Can I get a razor? I need to umm…shave my legs,” I whisper.
My heart races at the risk of even asking, but I can’t stop myself. I don’t care if he believes me. I just need something sharp, something I can control, even if it’s only for a second.
He smirks, his hands slipping into his pockets as he steps over to where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Do I look dumb?” he asks.
I can’t form the words to answer, so I shake my head.
“Do you think when you were undressed that the scars weren’t noticed? Or that we haven’t seen you rubbing the tips of your fingers over them?”
My eyes open wide. What the hell.
He laughs. A mocking, condescending laugh.
“Omega, never doubt our eyes are always on you.” Miles turns his head and I follow his gaze up to the corner of the room, at the camera I never noticed was there.
He turns and looks back my way and up toward the ceiling.
Another camera. “There’s nothing you do that we don’t know about.
This one time I’ll be generous and answer.
No.” With that final shattering word he turns and leaves.
“AHHHHHHHH,” I scream before flinging my body backward onto the mattress.
I roll over, pulling my knees up to my chest and cry.
For the life I had. The one I should’ve had and what it’s going to be.
I cry for Storm. My brother. The only man I’ve ever loved.
And now I’ve lost him too. With Dad, crying was the end of it.
The punishment, the silence, the bruises to cover.
With them, crying feels like the beginning.
And that terrifies me more than anything.
The hairs on my skin stand on end and I know they’re watching, getting their jollies over seeing me cry. From preventing me from having the one thing that can make me feel something other than this. The one thing that can make me feel like I’m in control.
I don’t know how long I lay there, tears in my eyes, as they grow heavier until eventually closing, casting me into darkness.
“You really are an ungrateful little bitch.” My dad’s voice slurs. Storm isn’t home, he's at football practice. I promised him I’d come home and go straight to my room and lock my door.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper. When I was younger I would snap back at my father, but I learned it only ended up with someone getting hurt. Most of the time it was Storm. He always jumped in to defend me and take the brunt of my father’s anger.
“Sorry, doesn't put food on the table,” he barks at me.
“I can make it now,” I mumble as I try to move past him, but he catches me, slamming my head into the wall.
“Now’s too late,” he growls through gritted teeth as he grips a handful of hair and drags me down the hallway. I grab at my hair, my feet moving frantically trying to keep up with him and alleviate some of the pain.
“I’m sorry. Dad, please let me go. You’re hurting me.” Tears stream from my face, but he doesn’t release me.
“You think I care about your crying? Your fucking brother’s coddled you too damn much all because he thinks you’re special because you’re a fucking omega.
All you are is a damn killer.” He drops me onto the kitchen floor.
“I’m going out. I want this kitchen clean by the time I get back.
” He pulls back his foot and kicks me right in the stomach, causing me to scream.
I hear the thudding of his boots on the floor as he moves away from me. A small part of me is happy that he’s leaving. I hold my breath until I hear the door close.
Pushing up on my hands, I look around the kitchen.
It’s clean, except for the jar of peanut butter and bread I left on the counter.
I foolishly made a sandwich then went to my room to do my homework.
Time got away from me and I never cleaned it up, or cooked dinner.
It’s the one thing I know I have to do every day to keep my dad somewhat happy.
I quickly clean it up, then head to the bathroom, needing to see the damage my father caused to my body and to get some pain relievers. Between my head and my stomach, I don’t know which hurts worse.
One look in the mirror tells me there’s no way I’m going to be able to hide this from Storm. My face is already bruising. Great. I don’t even want to lift my shirt, already knowing it looks the same.
Sometimes I just wish I could die. My dad would be happy, and Storm wouldn’t focus his energy on me. He’d be able to live a normal life. If I wasn’t here, then my mother would still be here.
Opening the cabinet, my fingers dance over the contents inside it.
Aftershave, toothpaste, bar of soap and a pack of razors.
My hand stops there. I used the blade out of one of them before.
I swore I’d only do it once. But now all I can think about is how it made me feel.
The control it gave me. It was the one thing in my life I could be in charge of.
Pulling a razor out of the package, I remove the blade and rush back to my room.
I dart up in bed, gasping for air. My eyes quickly scan the darkness of the room, trying to find what scared me. But there’s no one there. Or, they’re gone for now.
It was a dream. A nightmare. The moment that planted the seed to the beginning of my addition to cutting.