Page 15 of Ruthless Beasts

All names I didn’t belong to. Yet here I am, somehow claimed by all.

The day I came here, I was angry, scared, and sick. I wanted nothing more than to be released from these men’s grips and run, escape the fate that was sure to come. But as the night wore on, nothing happened. I had heard them outside my room in their own private spaces, doing their own separate things, but not one man came to the room after Mercer brought me soup and checked in on me.

As the night went on, the tiniest bit of hope formed that maybe I was safe here, at least for a while. At least until he learned my secret. He would learn it, that I knew. I couldn’t hide it forever, even if I tried. But a safe place until I figured out my life and got a hold of Hannah was all I could ask for.

If only I could get a phone, I could call my best friend and she’d help. Well, as much as she could with the limited funds she’d earned while working at a bar, but she’d do it for me. I was sure of that.

As promised, with shaky hands, I had signed the papers to make our marriage official, then my new husband disappeared into that forbidden west wing and well…

It had been five days.

Five days of blissful silence from my new spouse.

Five days of staying shut up in my room, wishing I had a book to read instead of the television that was plastered against the wall.

Five days of having two men tail me to the kitchen, because that was the only place I dared to go.

And five days of wondering when the pin would drop and chaos would break.

I had almost made it to day six of no contact when a knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. I stood, adjusting the tie on the pair of oversize sweats so they didn’t fall as I walked to the door. My palms sweated, my pulse raced, and I was scared to twist the knob and face the man who calls himself my husband.

I wondered when he’d come. When he’d expect me to lie down and perform my wifely duties and allow him to take what was his by law. But each day passed, and he hadn’t. He’d avoided me, and I was thankful.

The knob was cool under my fingers as I pulled it open, and there he stood. I blinked up at him, trying not to stare at his scars. Would he be offended if I had? Would he blame me for doing so? I had so many questions about his marred flesh, the scars, the…

“You’ve not come to meals,” he stated.

“I didn’t know it was required.” That was a lie. Mercer had told me as much the first day I was here.

“We eat breakfast and dinner together every day. From now on, if you aren’t there, you’ll starve,” he threatened, his voice rough. Though I doubt his motherly housekeeper would let that happen. She was always trying to feed me, always trying to force comforts on me that I earned by the mere fact of being his wife. Not like I accepted. The thought of eating made my stomach bubble uncomfortably. But she was a motherly lady, stout and jolly, and when she learned about me, the glee was palpable. I wish my husband felt the same. Did I even want him to?

“Do you understand me?”

I blinked, forgetting he was talking to me. “Yes, sir.”

“You can use my name,” he pointed out.

“Yes, Adam.”

He was quiet for a moment. His eyes roamed over me as I held the too big sweats in place. Then he thrust two bags at me. I hadn’t even noticed the bags. I was too busy looking up at his towering height, instead of down at his hands. When I didn’t take them, he ordered, “Take them.”

I was reluctant. “What is it?”

Why did he seem so exasperated at my simple question? “If you took the bags from me, you’d know.”

“I-“ I looked down at his hands again, one perfect, the other with scars and ripples, damaged to the state to match his face. “I’m sorry.”

I reached up and grabbed the bags from him, the weight of them instantly dragging my arms down. It wasn’t until I opened one and peered inside that I realized they were bags of clothes. “Thank yo?—“

I looked, and he was gone.

“Okay…” I sighed before lifting the bags to carry them into my room, turning back to shut the door.

I carried the bags to my bed, lifting them onto the plush surface so that I could remove the items. A small stack at atime, I emptied the bags, organizing the clothes on my bedding as I looked on with awe. He’d brought me a small wardrobe of clothing. Each piece was better quality than my father ever provided, and each in my size.

It wasn’t much, but considering I’d spent the last few days wearing what I assumed to be Mercer’s sweats and T-shirts, I appreciated the fact that I could now walk around in a pair of Lulu’s and wouldn’t have to concentrate on holding them up.

The bags contained leggings, simple solid-colored shirts, a few sweaters, undergarments, pajamas, as well as toiletries. I popped open the lid on one of the bottles, closing my eyes as I inhaled the luxurious scent. The lotion, body wash, and shampoo all matched with a subtle floral scent that tempted me to pour some of the lotion in my palm and feel the silky-smooth liquid against my skin.

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