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"I found a job as a clerk at a plastic surgeon's office. I was so happy to have been able to find a job like that. Most people that went to Los Angeles looking to become a movie star ended up working in dead-end jobs as waitresses, or worse, found themselves on sketchy casting couches that ended up being nothing but porn studios." I shuddered at the revolting thought. "Instead, I found myself strapped to a surgeon's table in what could have been an operating room. But it was really just a basement. At least it was clean."
I continued on, knowing that if I didn't finish my story, I would lose the nerve to do so. I could also sense that Jack wouldn't be able to hold onto his rising anger much longer. "He was well respected, the plastic surgeon to the wealthiest clients in Beverly Hills and Hollywood. Apparently, though, he had a dark side that no one knew about. He was considered the best. Always left his clients completely satisfied with his perfect technique, never leaving the trace of a scar behind."
I felt him shift his hand, and he lightly ran a calloused finger over a scar on my shoulder, then moved his finger along my skin until he was tracing one of the long scars over my cheeks. I held back a flinch at the touch there. "While he was delivering perfect results to the wealthy clients, he was operating on me, leaving me with the worst scars imaginable."
His fingertip left the scar, and his whole hand cupped my cheek, tipping my head back until I was looking back into his dark eyes. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. These scars," he said, his eyes roaming over my face, taking in the lines that closely resembled stitches on a patchwork doll, "they tell me how strong you are. You are a survivor. Not everyone survives their scars. Not everyone comes out with their soul intact."
ChapterTwenty-Four
SALLY
Iran a finger past one of the tattooed ribs and over one of the scars hidden beneath the black ink that covered his chest.
“What scars do you hide, Jack?” I whispered.
He sighed deeply, and I thought he was going to refuse to answer. It made me sad because, though he wanted my past, he didn’t want to share his. But then he lowered his head and kissed my lips sweetly with his before placing his forehead on mine and closing his eyes.
“My mom was a complicated woman. She had demons that I couldn’t understand. She turned to drugs, alcohol, and sex well before I was born. After she had me, nothing changed. She continued the same lifestyle; she just had another mouth to feed. I learned at a young age to stay away when she was… entertaining.
“I was around six years old when the first man came into my room after my mom passed out.” It was my turn to stiffen as burning hot rage began to fill me. I blinked back the tears that filled my eyes, knowing he didn’t want or need my pity. It was hard, though, not to pity a defenseless little boy. “The man liked to use his knife. He was a regular of my mom’s, so he was around a lot.” His eyes grew vacant as he stared out into the dark room.
“When my mom realized what was happening, she kicked him out, but not until he had beaten her bloody, virtually left for dead. It was the first time I had threatened a man. I used his own knife on him, slicing him to the bone on his arm. He never returned. It was a couple more years until the next man came along, attempting the same thing. I still wasn’t big enough to fight back. A locked door never stopped those men.”
I closed my eyes as desperate grief filled every part of me.
“Eventually, though, I was bigger, stronger than whoever came after me. I stopped any man who tried to get rough with my mom. We had a couple of good years. As good as they could be with her still drinking and doing drugs nearly every night. Whoring was all she knew. All of that changed when my father murdered her.” He looked at me then, focusing those eyes back on me, letting me see the rage, the helplessness, and the pain. “And then I slit his throat.”
My voice was a choked whisper. “Good.”
He held me tight and pulled the blankets up over us. “Sleep now, little Queen.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure how I’d ever be able to rest well ever again with the picture of a young little Jack being abused by monsters, turning him into the man he’d one day have to become to survive.
* * *
The next timeI woke up, it was by stretching my arm out, reaching across the bed, and feeling nothing but cold sheets. I cracked one eye open to verify that I was indeed alone. A sound from the end of the bed caught my attention. I turned my head on the pillow, swiping back my tangled hair, internally groaning at the feel of the mess on my head. It was going to take a lot of conditioner to get the strands smooth again.
Zero sat up, wagging his tail at me. I smiled at him as he padded across the covers to my side before huffing and curling up next to me. “He left you to guard me, didn’t he?” I ran my hand over his soft white coat, thinking back to the first time I had seen him. I wasn’t sure what Jack had used to get all that blood out of his fur, but whatever he’d done had Zero looking shiny and pristine.
We lay together for a while as my mind went over all we had discussed late last night. Some of what we’d done was a blur of passion and excitement. I felt my face heat at the memory of his hand spanking me. I wiggled a little bit to check, and, yes, I still felt the sting there as my skin brushed against the sheet. I had a feeling it would last most of the day. I couldn’t bring myself to mind, not when it had been such an erotic experience. I didn’t think I’d want to be spanked often, but every now and then? I could get behind that.
Did I really tell him I loved him while half out of my head, drunk on orgasm afterglow? I wondered if he thought I was just saying it as a heat of the moment thing. But he also gave me his own confession. One I would hold close to my heart forever. He hadn’t exactly told me he loved me. But the words that he said might as well have been written by one of the greatest romantic minds of the past.
I gave Zero one last pat and scratched behind his ears, then scooted out of the bed, padding over to the bathroom with a grimace on my face. Jack usually cleaned me up after we had sex. He had a habit of making me go pee afterward, too, wanting to ensure I wouldn’t end up with a UTI. It was adorable, though I’d never tell him that. I think it amazed and shocked everyone around us that he was so different with me. Though they saw him soften towards me in public, even then, they didn’t see how he would smile at me and how gentle those hands that had likely killed many men could be when he touched me. I liked that I had a part of him that nobody else would ever have. Except for maybe our children one day.
The thought of children with Jack had a wistful smile growing on my face. As I reached for the handle in the shower, I froze. A wave of cold dread, then shocked delight, washed over me as I stood there half in the shower, half out, my hand hovering in the air.
“Little Queen?”
Jack’s gravelly voice knocked me out of my dazed state, and I stared up at him with wide eyes. My reflection caught the corner of my eye, and I turned to see the mirror. I was a mess. My hair was tangled around my shoulders from where he had gripped it roughly in the night and had been caught in my nightshirt after he pulled it over my head. But it was my face that had my attention. I was paler than usual, my widened eyes full of shock, making the blue stand out brightly. There was fright, easy to read, but there was also a hint of hope.
“Sally?” Jack gripped my chin gently and raised my face to meet his concerned gaze. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I closed it again, swallowed, then cleared my throat. “I, uh,” I darted my eyes to the side. I had no idea how he would take the news. We had never spoken of the possibility, though the fact that we hadn’t used protection in the past couple of weeks since we’d started sleeping together was as much on him as it was on me. Maybe it was too soon? Perhaps I was just late because of all the changes in my life lately. I cleared my throat again and moved my eyes back to look at his beautiful face. “Jack…”
I didn’t know what to say. I could be wrong. I was only a couple days late, though I was never late. Not even when I’d been held captive in that horrid basement. My mind flew through the possibilities of what I should do, what I should say. Then Jack held up a bag, and my eyes became mesmerized by what was clearly visible through the plastic.
I darted my gaze back to his to see him smiling. “I thought you could use this.”
