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Chapter Ten
Branson
I’m sitting at the dining room table with a book I liberated from one of Jane’s shelves when I hear Teddy’s soft footsteps come in the room. I don’t raise my eyes from the page, picking up the glass beside me and taking a sip.
“What did you say?” I ask when I put it down, realizing she said something I didn’t hear. I frown as I look up, noticing her slumped and almost contrite posture. I tense up, immediately on edge at the familiar ruse.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice a whisper and my brows shoot up.
“What bullshit is this, Teddy?” I ask, even as a glimmer—a tiny thread—of hope forms in me.
“It’s no bullshit, no joke,” she says, looking up briefly. “I am sorry. For all of it. I—”
Her voice catches, and she lifts a hand to her throat as she clears it. “I know words don’t mean much, but I am, Branson. I’m so fucking sorry.”
The words wash over me, but I can’t quite comprehend their meaning and my body seems frozen as she continues.
“I know you can’t stay here, and I’ll understand if you leave. I won’t stop you. I’ll still help you.”
I look at her, head hung low and blood splattered over her dress. She’s much dirtier than before, and I wonder if she actually cleaned up the bodies.
My mind and heart wage war within me, all the anger bubbling up. As if she can fucking apologize and think it’ll all go away. She’s right that words can’t erase it. Not the years of shit she put me through. I want to hurt her, listen to her scream like she did to me. Yet I also want to pick her up in my arms and cradle her like the precious fucking doll she is. A beautiful bloody fucking doll and one I’ve loved since I was fifteen.
My beautiful bloody doll.
I can’t deny how much I want her. It makes me sick, fills me with self-loathing, but it’s true.
“Do you even realize—” my throat closes and I choke on the words, unable to express the depth of despair she put me through. I clear my throat and bring my face back up, willing my voice to stay calm.
“Since the first day you walked in those fucking doors, I’ve loved you. Fuck, do I love you and fuck did I hate myself for it.”
I see her swallow deeply, but she doesn’t say anything, so I press on. “All of it, all the fucking pain you put me through, I still fucking loved you.”
This time I don’t hide the crack in my voice. “She fucking turned you, I don’t know how, but she did. But I still fucking love you.”
Tears fall down her cheeks steadily, but she doesn’t make a sound. Placing a hand lightly on her chin, I lift it until she’s looking at me. Her big green eyes swim with tears and something I’ve never seen in her eyes before. Regret, maybe? Remorse? My jaw clenches.
Good. She needs to feel it, to fucking understand.
Hard resolve forms inside me.
My hands grip her face firmly, forcing her to keep looking at me.
“I’ll never forget the shit you put me through. I’ll make you pay for it every day for the rest of your fucking life, and that’s a promise.” I hear her breath catch and let my thumb snake out to rub her bottom lip. I relish how it parts for me and the faintest touch of her tongue.
“This body that put me through all that, it’s mine now. Your moans, your blood, your pleasure and pain, they’re mine now. That is your penance for what you’ve done to me. You don’t get to leave me, understood?”
With a growl I press forward, taking her lips with no mercy.
With her, I’ll never ask.
She moans lightly in my mouth, her hands coming up to my chest and neck to pull me closer. Pushing back, I take her wrists in mine, walking her slowly backward with my eyes never leaving hers until her back hits a wall. She gasps lightly as I pin her arms above her, my face hovering inches from her.
“You’re mine now, Amelia,” I say, my voice low and ragged. I see a tug at her brow at the name and she opens her mouth, I assume to object, but I stop her with my lips. This is not a kiss. No. This is a claim.
“They can call you Teddy,” I tell her, pulling back, nipping at her ear. “But for me, you will be Mia, my little doll.”
She shivers, her voice coming out breathless, “Yes.”
