Page 13 of Beautifully Wounded

“We aren’t going to hurt you, Charity. Relax.”

I’m surprised when she does. It’s just a fraction, but noticeable enough. Clearly, she’s scared of me, yet for some reason she responds to me. Maybe it’s out of fear, but I don’t think that’s it.

“Lean back,” I order, and only after a brief hesitation, she does, relaxing back against my chest as Jols works on patching up the cuts on her hands. “Close your eyes,” I rasp quietly next to her ear and watch in the reflection of the mirror as she does as I ask.

Interesting.

She remains like that while Jols works. I ignore the weird glances Jols shoots my way, rather enjoying watching Abbey in the mirror.

Once Abbey’s hands are patched up and her arms are clean, Jols gets to work on cleaning her face, wiping away the deep crimson to reveal soft creamy flesh underneath. I have the strangest urge to reach out and touch it, but thank fuck Jols speaks, shaking me out of whatever the fuck that was.

“We have to rinse your hair now, and then get you changed.”

Stiffening under my hand, Abbey’s lids fly open, her gaze wild like she’s just woken from a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Was she really that relaxed, leaning against me, that it’s like she’s been startled awake?

Her big doe eyes meet mine in the mirror, and for a long drawn out beat we stare at each other. Her face is free from smears of blood now, her appearance more in line with the teenage girl I studied in the family portraits back in her home. That girl was a year or two younger though, and this one here, wears dark shadows under her eyes. She’s experienced more heartache than the younger version of herself, and it’s clear things have been rough for a while.

Her cheekbones are too prominent. There’s no plumpness to her cheeks like there was in the portrait. Instead, they seem to hollow a little. Kind of like the life has been sucked out of her.

Heat washes over me as anger towards something I don’t have a clear picture of ticks in my jaw.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left her parents alive. Maybe I should have killed them and taken the three sisters.

Once again, it’s Jols that breaks through the weird fucking thoughts in my head, and she starts giving Abbey directions, so I take a few steps back while they get started on rinsing out some of the blood from Abbey’s blonde hair.

She’s not trembling as much now. Hopefully, because she feels a little safer. I should probably remind her not to get too comfortable, that she has plenty to fear, but for some reason, I like that those deep brown eyes don’t look at me with as much trepidation as they did ten minutes ago.

Once they’ve rinsed out most of the blood staining the ends of Abbey’s blonde hair, Jols moves to the bag and pulls out some clothes.

“We need to get you changed.”

Abbey’s frantic gaze locks on mine in the mirror, and yeah, I could be a prick and fucking watch, but despite what I said to Jols when we first stepped foot in here, I decide to stop being a prick for a fucking minute.

“I’ll step outside.”

My grunted words are met with a relieved sigh from both women, so with one last warning glare at them, I leave them to it and step back out into the balmy night.

“She okay?” JD asks, and I nod.

“As okay as she can be in this situation.”

“What’s the plan? She coming back to the Western?” Murf asks, a dart hanging from his lips as he unzips his fly and flops his dick out.

“Seriously?” I snap and his bushy dark brows hitch as he steps closer to the shrub by the path.

“What?” is all he says as he starts pissing.

“Dude, there’s a pisser right through that fucking door.” JD points out but Murf just shrugs, continuing to piss.

“This bush was looking thirsty. I’m just trying to keep it alive.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, tipping my head back to look at the stars above.

They are brighter out here in the country.

---