AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My wolf is quiet. My head is quiet.
Everything is quiet.
Adam is taking me by the hand and guiding me to the sofa in his sitting area.
Am I supposed to take my clothes off now? I wonder.
Then suddenly, I feel something wrap around me. He's taken off his jacket and put it around me. I stare down at my hands, my eyes burning. The quiet in my head is dispersing as a heavy despair is taking hold. I want to run away. I want to run somewhere far away where there is nobody. I want to breakdown and scream and cry. I want to rip off this blood debt that has become the bane of my existence.
Adam's hand lifts, and he begins wiping my face with a wet wipe, removing the thick makeup. The pile of used wet wipes grows on the coffee table, and he keeps going at it until everything is removed. His eyes are fierce, and I don't have the courage to meet his gaze. I don't know what he's thinking yet, and I don't think I want to know.
"Here," he gets up and brings me a bottle of water, "drink this."
I stare at the bottle before slowly taking it from him, but I don't drink it.
He walks out of the room, leaving me alone.
His jacket, covered in his scent, is wrapped around me, and it makes my wolf whimper. Not in arousal, but misery.
I stare down at the floor.
Jonathon often likes to remind me that I'm disposable. Until now, I have been aware of how useful I am when it comes to his business and company, so I thought it was just a way to insult me. But now I realize he was right.
"You will no longer interact with Norman." Jonathon had given me a cool look. "You will update me weekly on what is going on with Adam. You are just to seduce him. I don't care about what projects he's working on. I want to know about his daily activities, who he talks to, who he's close with. I want you in his bed and soon. If Norman approaches you for updates, you are not to tell him anything. If he hits you, you call me. I'll deal with it. We'll postpone your punishments for now. We can'thave Adam seeing the scars on your back. Men don't like broken bodies."
"Broken bodies, huh?" I stare at the water bottle in my hands, a bitter laugh escaping my lips.
My thoughts are dark and heavy, and there are so many of them swirling around in my head that I can't even grasp a single thought and go with it. Everything is wrapped in a blanket of shame and self-loathing, and I wrap it tighter around myself.
I don't know how much time passes before Adam returns, but the bottle in my hand is now warm, the condensation having dried up.
"Go change." His voice is firm, and when I finally manage to look at him, I see him holding out a bag from a clothing brand I recognize. I find myself searching his gaze, and there's no pity in it, not even a hint of sympathy. He just looks angry.
Is he angry at me?
I find myself taking the bag from him, and he points toward a door in the corner. "You can change in there."
I get to my feet, holding the jacket to me as if for dear life, bag in hand.
I'm not used to walking on such thin heels, and I stumble a little, only for Adam to catch me. The fury in his eyes burns me. However, his touch is gentle.
"Sit," he orders, dragging the chair closest to us.
It's like my body is only functional if I'm being ordered around right now. I sit down, and he crouches down before me, untyingthe bands of the heels. He pulls them off my feet and throws them to the side as if they're something vile.
"Go on."
I make my way to the bathroom and close the door behind me.
There is a midnight blue blouse in the bag with long sleeves and a simple ruffled neck. Under it is a cashmere sweater, a pair of comfortable pants, and a set of padded beige winter boots. I struggle out of the uncomfortable tight-fitted clothes, and as they fall to the floor of the luxurious bathroom, I feel like I can breathe. I don't expect the clothes Adam bought to fit, but they do, perfectly so. Staring at myself in the mirror, fully clothed, relief is an overwhelming emotion. I wash my face, splashing cold water on it over and over again until some semblance of normalcy returns to me.
My long silver hair has been curled and styled into a sexy bun with strands falling over my face, and it makes me want to yank my hair out. I rip out the pins and tie the tangled hair into a rough-looking braid. Right now, I want to look the furthest thing from attractive.
I stare at myself for a long few minutes.
I want to smear something on my face. I want to make myself as horrendous as possible so that nobody looks twice at me.
A knock on the door has me going still.
