Page 8

As soon as we get to the mess hall, Larc joins his mother and Kyle for lunch. Normally, I love to be left alone, but when it comes to Larc, his absence burns my soul. Like someone injecting acid into my veins, scorching and decimating the very fiber that makes up me, until I’m beyond recognition. This is what Larc does to me. I’m troubled by him distancing himself and I wonder why I’m troubled by it. I don’t recognize myself. Ben saved me from my father, and I had feelings for him in the beginning. But Larc saved me from the world, and these deep emotions are foreign. When he’s around, my heart has a different beat, specifically for him, and a warmth lights up my insides as if I swallowed moonbeams. He’s my secret Romeo.

It's no wonder a heaviness hangs over me as I make my way back to the bunkhouse. When I arrive, all the women are there, retiring for the night. It’s been an emotionally draining day. I quickly shuffle past Louisa, because I know she’s still upset with me, and I dislike confrontations. Groomed to submit, confrontations were never allowed, which transformed me into a hollow vessel. My wishbone is where my backbone should be.

Pulling out my pajamas from the dresser, I hear someone sit on my bed, so I look over my shoulder to see Louisa. I turn back, biting my lower lip. Dread bores into my bones. With my pajamas in my hand, I go into the washroom to clean up and brush my teeth, hoping Louisa will be gone when I return. No such luck.

She’s shuffling through a magazine and glances at me when I come into the room.

“Are you going to avoid me forever?”

I brush my hair over my shoulder, twirling the ends between my fingers, and I utter a soft no.

Louisa checks over by Tara and Mandy’s beds where they sit cross-legged, watching our interaction.

“It’s no secret we’re upset with you.”

The lump in my throat grows by the minute. She lets out a long sigh and pats the bed next to her. Like the obedient woman I am, I do as asked, bowing my head.

Louisa takes my hand.

“We just want to know why you didn’t tell us.”

Without looking at her, I say.

“Because Larc asked me not to.”

Again, I do as asked.

“He wanted all of you to get comfortable after what we…”

I can’t even say what we went through. The nightmares take up enough space in my head, so there’s no reason to speak of them.

From the amount of feet standing by my bed, I assume the other women overheard our conversation.

Becky cuts in.

“The same happened to us.”

Uh oh. They’re all upset.

“Larc waited until we settled in. It’s his way of easing us into their lifestyle.”

My head rises to meet her eyes, and she smiles.

“Ivy didn’t do anything wrong.”

Louisa retorts.

“We were all in that hellhole, fighting for one another and keeping each other alive. I thought that commitment extended here.”

I appreciate Becky for being my voice.

“Your anger is misguided. Larc saved all of us. He’s clothed, fed, and put a roof over our heads. Better than how some of us were living before. All of us…”

her arm waves toward the other women.

“wouldn’t have believed this place was full of werewolves if he told us earlier. Or we would have been even more traumatized if we witnessed it shortly after arriving.”

Louisa sighs and glances at me.

“I guess Becky made your case.”

My hands rub up and down my legs.

“I’m sorry.”

She places her hand over mine and pats it.

“Maybe we took it too personally.”

Tara and Mandy step over to me, and Tara says.

“I’m not mad at you, Ivy.”

Mandy confirms the same. They reach over and hug me, which catches me off-guard. People don’t hug me without something in return or pain following soon after. Like the timid woman I am, I remain still, allowing them.

Once they’re satisfied with clearing the air, the women return to their beds, finishing up whatever they were doing before. A half-hour later, the room is pitch black. With my hands behind my head, staring up into the darkness, I remain wide awake. From sex slave to living with werewolves, my thoughts refuse to settle down for the night.

I creep over to my dresser, pulling on wool socks, and then sneak over to the building’s entrance for my coat and boots. Outside, I breathe in the fresh air. It’s a clear night, and the moon guides me toward the mansion, which is open 24/7. A couple of guys are inside, playing some kind of game, and they wave when they see me. My head ducks, walking down the hall to the library, where dim lights along the wall help me find my place. The fireplace isn’t burning, so it’s chilly in the room. Reading nooks are on each side of the fireplace with cushioned benches and pillows. I grab a fantasy book to chase my thoughts in another direction and curl up in the nook with my coat still on.

The temp has dropped. Aside from the ticking pendulum of the grandfather clock in the corner, I don’t hear anything else, and my eyes grow heavy before I’m thrown into another disturbing dream.

A week ago, I’ve left my father’s house for the last time. I moved into Ben’s penthouse, which is gorgeous, overlooking the city. He’s making more connections and rising in politics. Ben tells me that someday I’ll be his Jackie O. We’re sitting on his balcony, twelve stories up, having a glass of wine. His fingers twirl in my hair when I tell him I got a job.

Ben stops, wrenching my head back by the hair.

“Who told you to get a job?”

I slap at his hand for him to let go of me.

“You’re hurting me.”

Still pulling my hair, he shakes my head, asking again.

“Ow! What are you talking about?”

He brings my face an inch from his and says.

“I mean, I didn’t give you permission to get a job.”

I suck in a breath.

“Forget the job. I expect you here when I get home.”

Flash forward.

I’m kneeling between Ben’s legs, sucking his cock, because this is the only job I have at the moment. He has a tight grip of my hair, thrusting his hips until I’m gagging and losing air. Ben finds my discomfort funny. I pinch his hand to get his attention because I can’t breathe. Bad move. He throws me off his cock and smacks me in the face.

“Pinch me again, and you’ll find out just how rough I can get.”

My shaky hand covers the heat he caused on my cheek. I swipe the saliva and tears from my eyes as I respond.

“That’s the last time you’ll ever hit me.”

He shoots off the couch, still sporting an erection, and grabs my arm. “Really?”

Ben throws me on the couch, flipping me onto my stomach, while I scream.

“Let me go!”

His hand takes hold of my wrists, pinning them above my head, and he runs his cock over my butt crack. I clench my butt cheeks, fear pounding in my ears, screaming for him not to do it. He knows I don’t want anal sex. Without lubrication or warning, he shoves inside my ass, the burning so intense I can’t breathe to save my life. Finally, I catch my breath and…

I’m thrashing my arms to get him off me.

“Ivy, it’s Larc.”

I grow motionless, blinking at Larc, trying to catch my bearings while breathing heavy. My hair is plastered to my face. My eyes flick to his hand holding my wrists, and he releases them.

“Everything’s okay, Ivy. You had a bad dream.”

My legs fold against my chest, and I wrap my arms around them, rocking front and back. He rubs my arm while I shake off the haziness of the nightmare. Reaching over to the table, he twists off the cap from a water bottle and hands it to me. I seize and guzzle it down and cough from drinking too fast.

“Easy.”

Larc wipes my mouth with his hand, and out of instinct, I kiss it. He freezes, staring at me, jaw tightening.

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

He drops his hand at the same time as he gives me a slight smile.

“No worries.”

Our eyes have latched onto each other. The clock strikes midnight, cracking the quietness and our connection. I shift my body to where I’m facing him with my feet on the floor.

“Why are you here, Larc?”

I’m surprised by my boldness when it comes to Larc. If I asked Ben this question, I’d be punished for it, so I learned to keep my mouth shut. Larc draws out my inner strength and courage. My instinct is to stand up to him, which baffles me. The sheer size of the man should have me cowering, but those ice-blue eyes coax me into being myself. My teen self where physical abuse didn’t exist, only silence. The painful silence with my father lasted the first seven years of my life. After that, I had the energy to flourish outside our house. I took piano and dance lessons, which my father allowed because it kept me out of his way. I went to dances, hung out with friends. I was resilient until Ben robbed me of it all. I miss that me.

“I heard you were having a nightmare.”

“You heard. Your house is far from here.”

“Wolf ears.”

My head turns toward the windows because his presence is disturbing. I already have an overactive libido, but around Larc, it’s like a sex drive on steroids. He’s caused changes in me that I can’t explain, which has me worried.

“Let me walk you back to the bunkhouse.”

I glance at him, his absence over this week comes back to me, and anger I haven’t expressed in years rises to the surface.

My lips press together.

“I can find my way back.”

When I stand, he adds.

“I know you can, but I’d—”

“You’d like what, Larc? You’ve ignored me for the past week. Yes, you’re busy and have to take care of everyone, except you seem to have forgotten that I’m part of everyone.”

Voicing it spurs on the tears, and now I’m mad at myself for weakening.

He reaches for my arm as he says.

“Ivy, you’re important—”

I tug away from him.

“Don’t. Leave me alone.”

My feet can’t move fast enough before I’m at a full run. I slip a few times on the ice, but I’m able to right myself. Behind me, the mansion door closes, and I know he’s watching me. I just don’t know if he’ll follow to prove how important I am or leave me hating my vulnerability when it comes to him.