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Michael roars with laughter. “Oh yeah, she kept hoping she’d turn into a werewolf too. I’ve never seen a thirteen-year-old girl pray on a full moon before.”
With Sam silenced, Dad and Michael turn the talk to the upcoming college football bowl games. Charlie keeps stroking my wrist. I want to mouth off about something so he’ll apply a little pressure. A little pain. Right here, and no one would know.
“Do you like football?” I whisper.
“I don’t have time to follow the teams and players, but I know a little about the game.”
“Enough so you don’t embarrass me if Dad asks you who to root for?”
His eyes flare and he chuckles, tightening his fingers slightly but not edging toward pain. “I wouldn’t embarrass you for the world.” He leans down, his mouth to my ear. “At least not in public. Unless it would get you off.”
Heat flashes through me, searing intensity leaving only ash behind in my mind.
Looking down into my face, he quirks his mouth, flashing that dimple I love so much. “If you want something, all you have to do is ask.”
I risk a quick glance at my family. Dad and Michael are in a heated discussion about who was going to make the Super Bowl. Sam gave up on me temporarily to go snoop around Brittany. Mom snuck into the kitchen to check the turkey.
“I ought to go help Mom in the kitchen.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand. “Sure.”
He waits. Wanting me to ask. Wanting me to admit to the need.
The need for him to hurt me, just a little.
“Please.”
He watches my face as he pushes his thumb into my wrist, grinding the tendon and nerves against the delicate bones. My hand jerks in his and I let out a soft sound, surely too soft for anyone else to hear. But he hears. His nostrils flare and his eyes chill to the scary eyes. The eyes that make me remember that he killed someone on his job.
Voice low and soft, he presses a kiss to my ear and releases me. “Good girl.”
PARTII
BETRAYED
13
The day after Christmas, I jerk upright and look around frantically, but the bed is empty except for me and Sheba.
Charlie said goodbye last night while slowly stroking my body with his and told me he wouldn’t wake me when he left. I lay awake for hours, determined to kiss him again, even if it was 4:00 a.m. I wanted to stand at the door in nothing but his shirt and wave as he pulled away.
I’d stayed up all night before. Easily. I’m a fairly light sleeper too. At least I thought so.
I glare at Sheba, the traitor who once again didn’t whine or bark or hop out of bed to go out when the Master slipped away in the dead of night.
My throat aches, a lump the size of Texas swelling in my chest. Alone. After stripping me down to my lowest, basest self, he left me alone.
I draw my knees up, hugging myself into a ball, ready to bawl myself into oblivion. But the crumple of paper makes me sit up and search through the blankets. I find his note and smooth it out with trembling fingers.
I promised you a list of chores to accomplish each day while I’m away. With this much to do, I’ll be home before you know it.
I can’t help but snort. Not hardly. No lengthy list is going to make these days alone pass any quicker.
1. Take Sheba on a walk—no running!—every day for at least one hour.
2. See someone from your family every day and eat at least one meal with someone else daily.
3. Stay connected to your friends.
