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“And I need the truth. I’m not dumb.”
“Then how about a tit for tat. I’ve shared something with you, and now it’s your turn.” Grabbing her finger, I bring it up to my lips and bite the tip, soothing the sting with my tongue. “Tell me something.”
“Anything?” Her mock glare only makes my cock jerk.
“Anything.”
“Okay. I’ll play.” She turns on her side to face me better, the low lighting in the room dancing across her soft features. It also accentuates the smattering of bruises on her neck, and it takes everything within me not to go after Alton again and break his. Soon. Very soon. “I’ve been a dancer for most of my life…” I open my mouth to say I know as much, but she makes a zip it motion “…talk and I stop.”
“So bossy.” Slowly, I stroke the marks on her neck with my thumb. Just gentle sweeps as to not distract her, but to soothe, and then lower to her arms where the deep scratches are red.
“Get used to it.” That mouth is going to earn her a few spankings in the future. “As I was saying, Mom put me into ballet classes when I was around four, and I did well, stuck with it for a few years, but that kind of dancing wasn’t my passion. I just went along with it until I stumbled, literally, into a lyrical class down the hall from mine. It changed everything for me. The way they moved, the graceful lines of their bodies as they told a story, was eye opening.”
“How old were you then?”
“Almost twelve, and I nagged Mom to death until she gave in.” Pain laces her every word.
“So, you are telling me ahead of time that you’re a nagger?”
That did the trick; the sudden sadness in her eyes is gone as she smacks my chest. “Jerk.”
“Never said I was a saint.”
“I don’t need this abuse. Maybe I should head…shit.” London sits up suddenly, panicking, trying to right her clothes and smooth down her hair. “I need to go. Marcus and Alton are going to kill me.”
“They can never touch a pretty little hair on your head again.”
She pauses her frantic movements to look at me. “What does that mean?”
“You no longer live there, London,” I say, pulling her back to sit beside me. “After what happened and the enemies they’ve gained, I can’t let you live there any longer. Not when you’re in danger and they will sell you to protect themselves.”
“But where will I go? I have no one and—”
“You have me. My family.” She lays her head on my shoulder, and I kiss the crown of it. “I’m here and not going anywhere. This is fast and sudden, but stay with me. You can have your own room if you want…just know that I expect nothing in return.”
“That doesn’t sound right at all. I know them, Malcom,” she says instead. “Alton wouldn’t allow it.”
I shrug, and she looks up at me. “He gave in with no problem.”
“You did something…didn’t you?” Her tone isn’t accusatory. If I’m reading her right, she just might be a tiny bit relieved to leave that hellhole. “Tell me.”
“Broken hand and a gunshot wound.”
“Funny, Malcolm. Real funny.”
“More like well deserved, but okay.”
“You’re serious.” Still no anger or worry; she just wants clarification.
“As a heart attack.” I steal a quick kiss. “Another movie?”
“Why am I not bothered by this?” For some reason, that seems to bother her. The lack of emotion. Empathy when it comes to her abusers. “Does it make me a horrible person to be kind of happy about this?”
“Does it make me a monster for pulling the trigger or smashing the hand?”
“Not at all.”
“Then fuck it.” Grabbing the remote, I pass it to her. “How about that next movie…”
