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Chapter Thirteen
It took me six years to be able to look at my first set of scars. The accident that took my father stole every ounce of self-confidence I had. It was only after a conversation with a counsellor that I decided to look at the pale marks as something different. My scars were the ultimate measure of a man— the ones who looked away, who refused to acknowledge me, weren’t worth the time of day. The ones who idolized them were even worse. It was a shift in mindset that made me lonelier than I’d ever been, but it was also the shift that brought me closer to something more real than I’d ever experienced.
Michael was the first person to see me.
Michael was the first person to treat me like a person.
So when I finally found the courage to look at the new set, I did my best to hold onto that memory. Whenever the sight of them brought the sickness of a new memory, of hands on my body while they dragged me from the wreckage, my heart warmed with thoughts of Michael. Above all else, I had to be grateful I was here. When I could have been torn apart in the woods, I was rescued by a friend, by a lover, by someone who would never dream of hurting me.
Once I pulled the dress back over my head, I looked out to my reflection again. I tried to tell myself that the poor lighting in Michael’s bathroom was the culprit of my haggard appearance. I hadn’t been able to do much more than toss my hair up in a bun since the accident, and without much of a selection of clothes, the only ‘nice’ thing I had was an old sundress Michael had stolen from the back of my closet. Without makeup, there was nothing to cover the scars that littered my skin, but that awareness only made me feel embarrassed. Michael had never minded before, had he?
When the front door opened, a shiver of excitement ran through my system. “Just a second!” Straightening out my dress, I gave my cheeks one last playful slap. At the very least, a flush of colour would make me look a bit more normal after a sleepless night. Not that I was complaining. A late night with Michael, a night spent under him, was the best night a girl could ask for. Slipping out of the bathroom and into the hallway, I nearly raced to the front of the house.
“I didn’t think you’d be back so—”
When I finally laid eyes on him, my entire being froze. I didn’t need to notice the darkness under his eyes to know that something had happened. Michael wouldn’t look at me. Something had changed him again, had stolen him away from me. The one who crawled into the house now wasn’t the same shirtless body I shared coffee with, and it wasn’t the damaged boy that I studied with. He was back to being the beast that treated me, that avoided me, that fed off the fear in my stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
The silence pulled me forward; the hesitancy kept my fingers at a hover above his skin. It was only when his eyes jerked across the room that I found the confidence to give his arm a gentle squeeze, that I found the strength to collapse my own chest. His muscles tensed with my touch— a stark contrast from the rest I used to bring him. Three hours ago, he left me there alone, claiming he was going to get groceries for a proper meal tonight. To see him now, broken and empty-handed, made the darkness impossible to drive out.
“Michael, what happened?”
“Nothing.” The quick response narrowed my eyes— something Michael would only look at for a passing second. His vision tracked forward again. “I have to talk to you about the accident.”
“Why?”
The question wouldn’t bring him back to me. When I moved to try to get in front of him, Michael jerked out of my grip. He wouldn’t look at me until I forced it, and then, I wasn’t sure either of us were able to look away. That awful dark brought a sad chuckle from my throat.
“Is it bad?”
Through gritted teeth, he hissed my death sentence. “Yes.”
The knot in my stomach wouldn’t stop the soft smile. “Reallybad?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t want to know.”
“Birdie.”
“I don’t have to—” The idea brought my eyes to the floor. Another embarrassed chuckle crawled out of my chest, and when my cheeks threatened to turn, I did the only thing I could. Need forced me into his arms, but as I nuzzled against his chest, the truth became impossible to avoid. He wasn’t holding me like he used to. “I should get one night, shouldn’t I?”
“It’s not that simple, Birdie.”
“Why not?”
If it were anyone else,anyoneelse, I might have felt ashamed at the way my fingers balled in his shirt. I should have felt embarrassed at the need in my touch, at the way my lips brushed so lightly over his neck, but Michael had a way of banishing even that away— for a while. The pain didn’t come until my kiss pressed into stiffened lips. The panic didn’t come until I felt his rigid muscles beneath his shirt. Without Michael, I was back to being the lonely girl I’d always been. Hunger pulled me closer, drew my fingertips up his chest and around the back of his neck.
“Please.” The moan against his lips had a way of shaking him, of changing him. My kisses drifted along his cheeks, and when lips finally brushed against his ear, I tried again. “Please, Michael.” When he flinched again, I let my hand trail along his body. Not that I needed it. Not that I had any question as to how hard he was. “I need you.”
The phrase awoke something in him, brought forth the pieces that I needed the most. Rough hands jumped to my thighs at the demand, and when he tugged me up, my legs locked tightly around his waist. My body acted on instinct as he carried me deeper into the house, my excitement grinding hungrily against him. As his growls filled my head, my chest, another smile pressed against his temple. All I wanted was to feel those marks against my ass again. I wanted the same lusty punishment he delivered the other night, the same tender care that followed it. When he finally lowered me onto the bed, though, things were different.Michaelwas different. As I tried to grab out for him, a rough grip pinned my wrists to their place above my head.
“Keep them there or I tie them there.”
A shiver ran through my system, and I nodded my head. “Yes.”
It was the urgency that brought a smile to his face, and when Michael lightened, so did I. Beneath him, I wriggled my hips again and Michael straightened. The sight that had pushed him over the edge just hours before now brought a shadow of doubt to his features. Seeing me like that, hearing my gentle mewls for more, only seemed to make him sadder. I wanted to reach out, but with a promise burned into my skin, I kept my hands in place. Michael had always kept his word; he at least deserved the same from me. Though, that thought became impossible to hold on to as his lips started to work their way down my body. A growl of hunger brought him back to me, and when Michael finally lifted my dress, it felt like we hadn’t missed a beat.
