Page 3 of Bathed in Blood

I avoid Jax’s furious glare, anger and disapproval rolling off him in droves. My heels clack loudly as I rip off the gloves, my hands shaking when I jerk the painted mask from my face. Its pretty princess features used to freak me out, like the expensive porcelain dolls Mom collects, but those dolls aren’t stained like this is. The double doors slap back together behind me as I bow over, glaring at the floor, waiting for the vomit that doesn’t come anymore, that hasn’t in a while.

The clatter of the mask echoes in the opulent hall as I’m shoved against the wall. I’d hiss at the flare of pain from my back shaming into the molding, but Jax’s forearm is shoved against my throat. “The fuck was that?”

Panic grips me beneath the surface, my body remembering the all too familiar sensation of being deprived of air. I don’t fight back; I know better. Lifting my arms, I gesture to my throat.Jax’s brown eyes track the movement, his light brows knitting together like the brain-dead asshole he is.

He doesn’t make a move until he’s satisfied, until my face is the desirable shade of purplish red. When he finally moves, it’s with a shove, making sure to press extra hard. I don’t get half a breath in before his hand grips my chin roughly, dragging my face towards his, repeating his question.

“Lazy day at the office?” I croak. Being a smartass won’t get me anywhere, but since I’m already in the trenches…

The sound of his hand connecting with my face hits me before the sting of his palm, my head slamming to the side from the force of the blow just as his brothers join our little hallway pep talk. They don’t intervene; they won’t until it gets too bad. At one point, I might’ve even been able to dilute myself into thinking their infatuation with me might’ve been something more, something special.

It isn’t.

Nobody likes to play with broken toys.

His hand connects roughly again. This time, it brings a familiar ringing to my ears as I sag against the wall. My higher-than-life heels slide out from underneath me as I sink down, the fancy dark molding scratching up my back before my mostly bare ass connects with the floor.

“You’re going to cost us fucking money all because of a goddamn pissy mood?” he barks down at me before turning on his watchful brothers. “She’s your cunt. What the fuck was that?”

I don’t pick myself up; I know better. Being small is one of the few things that keeps hiscorrectiveslaps from becoming closed fists. I study the lines in the hallway runner instead, my eyes following every little swirl and leaf in the design. My fists are shaking, the burn of my nails digging into my palm not touching the throbbing in my cheek, but I know better than to touch that, too.

They’re still arguing above me when Vince kneels at my side, brushing my red hair over my shoulder. “Lana.”

“I have cramps,” I offer, hoping he’ll just leave it alone, take my weak excuse and go.

He rolls his dark eyes, ignoring the fighting of his brothers. “You’re on birth control.”

There’re so many colors in this rug; I never noticed before.

I wince as his fingers prod my swelling cheek, forcing me to face him. When he leans in, his lips brushing past mine, the sick feeling in my gut roils.

“Vince, go get her changed. I think the Blood Princess has forgotten her place.” Jax nearly coos.

Anton sidesteps, putting himself closer to me. “She’s not leaving the house. It’s too risky.” I’m half shocked Anton spoke up at all, even as Jax’s screaming cuts him off.

“She’s a fucking tool here, not your goddamn girlfriend! Go upstairs, call one of the whores, and stay the fuck out of my way. I made her what she is. If it wasn’t for me, the two of you would be inviting the cunt to family dinners and writing her little love letters.”

Jax eyes are wide with anger when they turn towards me, his broad shoulders heaving in tune with Anton’s as I finally work myself to a stand.

Vince’s hands are hovering on the small of my back before his arm bands around my waist, tugging me closer. “She can handle it, Anton.”

“Handle what?” I breathe out, working the stiffness from my jaw.

“You’ve had it too comfy here, forgotten your purpose, your place. Just because you keep my brothers' cocks wet doesn’t mean you don’t have to do your job.”

“This is fucking bullshit,” Anton spits before stalking off down the hall, his bulked muscles pulling underneath his shirt. He’sthe oldest of the brothers, the largest, but he always bows under Jax. He’s just as cruel as his middle brother. If Anton isn’t down for something, it can’t be good.

“He’s just scared someone will take you from us, Lana. You’re a highly sought after item,” Vince offers.

It’s crazy how quickly my bitterness is drowned out by anxiety. My place here is far from good, but I know how much worse it could be.

“Just fucking—” Another slap cuts off my words, forcing a whimper from my throat as Vince catches me, keeping me on my feet. He’s the…nicest of the three, usually levelheaded. If he’s pissed enough to punish me, there must’ve been a high-profile watcher today.

“See, Cunt, our usual girls are… indisposed at the moment, meaning someone has an outstanding order for a handsome, fit, dark-haired man. You just delivered an unsatisfactory show. It’s only fair you have a hand in fixing your fucking mistake.”

My mouth goes dry as my hair is pulled taut by Vince. It’s gentle, but that doesn’t make it any less degrading as he forces me to face his brother.

“I don’t pick the victims.” My voice is softer than I’ve heard it in months, dread building inside me.I can’t.

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