Chapter 10
Sloane
Isat down on the bed and drew in a shaky breath. Ethan had come to me this morning and as soon as I saw it was him walking through my door I knew something was wrong. Still, no one could have prepared me for him telling me that I’d be getting married. I just assumed I’d dodged that bullet.
It hadn’t taken me long to convince one of the older, single women—Mae—to move in with my girls. They’d be safe with her watching over them. It was one less thing for me to worry about.
My hands shook as I peeled my dress off my shoulders. It pooled around my waist and I sat there naked. Something told me that my new husband was respectful enough to give me time to dress. And even if he wasn’t, it didn’t matter. He was going to see my body tonight anyway. It belonged to him now.
It made me wonder how he’d feel about getting damaged goods.
My hand smoothed over my forearm and the various marks and scars stood out against my skin.
When Derek went to touch me he’d find the same on my legs, belly, chest, and back.
Even the nape of my neck. Only my hands, feet, and face were spared.
I hated my scars. Even though most of them weren’t red any longer and a few had even faded, I still knew where each was. They were ugly.
How would he feel about all the scars that littered my body? The last thing I wanted was for that beautiful man to find me unattractive. There wasn’t anything I could do about it, though. I was his.
Tears welled up in my eyes. Being married was going to make it that much harder to execute my plan.
I’d have to get all my goodies out of my house because it didn’t belong to me anymore.
Someone else would end up moving in there.
My girls would be moved somewhere else and wouldn’t have my protection anymore.
Even if Derek would be okay with them living with us, our new home didn’t have the space for three teenagers.
I couldn’t express my deep hatred for Ethan right now. A wedding was supposed to be a blessing, supposed to be the happiest day of a woman's life. Not only was him shoving this on me a roadblock to my escape, but it was a bigger chain around my freedom while I was stuck here.
I wasn’t exactly sad to have been married to Derek.
At least it was him and I had a chance of having a husband who wasn’t as awful as the other men here.
As far as I could tell—and it wasn’t much since I’d only met him a few days ago—he seemed like a good man.
But then again, good men didn’t join cults.
The tears dripping down my cheeks were just because of the changes.
It was overwhelming. Everything was going to be different.
It worried me. I scrubbed my cheeks, drying the tears, and stood.
I shoved my tight fitting dress off my hips and went to hang it in the closet.
Digging through the boxes of my things that had been moved over here, I found pajamas and climbed into them.
They weren’t what anyone would call sexy, just a pair of cotton pants and a long sleeve t-shirt.
I didn’t own lingerie and even if I did, I wasn’t sure I would want to wear it tonight.
Derek may be my new husband, but I didn’t know him. Didn’t know if I could trust him. That didn’t mean I could avoid my duty as a wife. At least not tonight. I either gave myself over willingly, or…well, willingly was the best option.
I stepped out of the bedroom and paused when I saw him drinking whiskey.
A knot tightened in my stomach. I’d be finding out sooner rather than later what sort of drunk my husband was.
I brushed my cheek as I thought about the type my father was.
There’d been plenty of bruises throughout the years from him.
He hooked a foot around the chair next to him and dragged it out. “Have a seat.”
Sinking into the chair, I watched him warily from my peripheral.
My chest was tight, making it hard to breath.
A piece of me was brimming with excitement.
I was about to find out what all the fuss was about.
But I was also a little terrified. What if it hurt?
Curling my hands together, I waited. I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that Ethan had mentioned getting married,” he said, draining the glass. He poured two more glasses and set one in front of me.
I shook my head, but he pushed it closer. “Have some. It’ll steady your nerves,” he told me, draining his again. “I honestly had no idea it would be you. He didn’t mention who I’d be marrying.”
“You didn’t ask?” I brought the glass up and took a small sip. A shudder wracked my body as the taste burned its way down my throat. I wasn’t used to drinking much more than an occasional glass of wine.
“Would it have mattered if I had and wasn’t happy with his answer?”
I blinked at him, then shook my head. Understanding drained away the last dredges of anger. He was as stuck as I was. “You wouldn’t have had a choice in the matter.”
“Just like you didn’t,” he replied. He sighed. “I’d like to give you a chance to get to know me-”
“We can’t,” I whispered, staring down into the glass.
“What do you mean?”
“If he doesn’t see the evidence that we…
consummated the marriage-” I swallowed hard, fear creeping in.
“A couple tried to wait once. They were both young and she wasn’t ready to sleep with her new husband.
The punishment Ethan handed down…” I looked up and met his eyes.
“He received far worse than she did, but I wouldn’t want either of us to go through that. ”
Derek sighed again. “I had a feeling that would be the case.” He narrowed his eyes. “We can take it at your pace. I assume you’re a virgin.”
My cheeks heated and I knew without looking they were bright red as I nodded. Was it that obvious?
“Have you ever done anything?”
“I kissed one of the boys once.”
“Where?”
“Behind one of the sheds we had in the town I grew up in.”
“No… I mean, kissed him where?”
“Oh,” I muttered, blush deepening, “on the lips.” I peeked up and found him watching me with a serious look on his face. Embarrassment made it hard to speak. These kinds of topics weren’t appropriate. But, then again, he was my husband now. We both needed to make peace with that.
I hadn’t wanted to get married, but now I was. As long as Derek was kind to me I would be the best wife I could be. At least until it was time to leave.
“Tongue?”
I shook my head, focusing back on the moment. He was probably thinking there was something wrong with me that no man had ever wanted to touch me. “It’s forbidden for the men to touch the young girls.”
“Thank fuck for that.”
His words made me relax a little. There were still men here who would try if it weren’t for the rules.
I was happy to know my husband wasn’t like that.
“And by the time I came of age, I’d already shown myself to be a trouble maker.
So no one ever showed any interest and I soon just became another woman they weren’t supposed to touch. ”
He nodded and poured another drink. I didn’t have to explain what trouble maker meant, I could see the understanding in his eyes. I leaned forward, hesitating when those shocking blue eyes of his landed on me, then I pulled the glass from his hand.
He didn’t argue when I stood and put them inside the sink. I heard his chair scrape backward and tensed as he walked up behind me. I didn’t turn to face him, just stared down at the sink.
“We still don’t have to do this,” he offered. “I could open up a wound on my back and that would be enough proof.”
I shook my head as I turned. “No.” Panic flared up at the thought of trying to pretend. “I don’t want you to do that. It’s not good for your wounds. Plus…I can’t trust that Ethan wouldn’t somehow find out.”
“What did he do to them?”
“He nearly killed Ben and he snapped Lacey’s femur.
She still walks with a limp.” I swallowed hard and licked my lips.
“You’re my husband,” I whispered. Closing the distance between us, I laid my hand on his chest. We’d do this tonight and then if I found out later that he wasn’t what I was hoping, I could always stop sleeping with him then.
“I could tell him it was my fault. That I drank too much whiskey and couldn’t…”
I stopped him by placing my finger over his lips.
What irony, that the nicest thing a man was willing to do for me was to not sleep with me.
The double irony was that for the first time in my life I felt desire.
And it was for him. I looked into his deep blue eyes.
Without saying a word, I told him it was okay.
Nerves fluttered in my belly as his hands slid up my arms, over my neck. The shirt sleeves had stopped him from feeling my scars on my arms, but as soon as he touched my neck he froze. The time was here.
“I try to hide them,” I admitted.
“The scars?” he asked, looking down at my skin.
I nodded, miserably waiting for his opinion. My breathing was fast and erratic. It shouldn’t matter what he thought, but it did.
His eyes narrowed as he pushed up my sleeves, one at a time, and traced his fingertips over the marks on my forearms. “Why do you have so many?”
Ducking my head to avoid his intense stare, I looked down at the floor. “I’m a troublemaker, remember?”
“Why do I get the impression you got many of these scars by taking punishments for others?”
My head snapped up and I stared at him in shock. How had he known that? Had someone been talking about me? If so, who? The women would have told me. Most of them were loyal to me, even in their desolate states.
Derek nodded as though I’d just confirmed his question. “Your scars are a testament to your strength of character, Sloane.”
I didn’t respond, not willing to believe him. At least not yet.