Page 86 of Speak

Damon’s eyes widen. “Jonas. Bring a towel and some clothes. Start a fire. I’ll get some hot chocolate going. We need to get her warm and dry.”

“On it, Doc.” Jonas disappears as Damon scrounges around the kitchen as though he’s looking for everything. I guess it’s his first time here. He finally finds a pot after his fourth attempt, gets to the fridge that’s barely stocked except for a few essentials. He gets to the pantry and finds a few packets of Swiss Miss.

“Jonas!”

“Yeah?”

“Look in Axel’s room, see if you can find anything for Maverick.”

“Oh, I’m good. I don’t need –“

“You saved her life, Maverick. The least we can do is get you into some dry clothes and get you warm. Please, as a doctor, let me.”

I nod. How can I argue with that?

Raven still hasn’t looked up, she’s pale and her lips are almost back to their natural pink. When Jonas comes back in less than three minutes, he throws a towel at me but begins to dry her with gentleness that’s almost concerning. “Hey, baby. Did you have a bad dream?”

Raven nods as he peels off the sweatshirt from her body. We all see the bruise my grasp left on her forearm from when I yanked her to me but her gaze stays down. “You want to tell me what happened?”

She shakes her head. My eyes stay glued on her, them. The way Damon watches as Jonas peels off the camisole, putting the towel around her, hiding her body from my sight as he reaches and pulls her panties down and off, carefully avoiding her feet. He grabs a clean pair and again, avoiding her feet, he slides one up to the ankle then the other. “Lean on me, baby. Mmhmm. You’re doing so good.”

The white cotton panties glide up her thighs, and they disappear under the towel.

Catch. Feast. Torment. Rut.

I adjust my growing erection that hasn’t been hard in ten fucking days.

“Good girl.” Jonas turns his muscular back to me to face Damon. “I’ll stir the chocolate. Take a look at her feet. Other than clean them, I don’t think I’m good for much.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Damon asks and Raven points upstairs. He nods then looks to me. “You should come with me. I’ll show you where you can change.”

I follow him up, he points me to the first bedroom on the left where I dress into a loose-fitting Yellow Jackets tee, sweatpants, and clean socks. I wander out into the hallway, noticing how void it is of anything. There are no pictures hanging on the wall, no items of sentimental value, as though the cabin was purchased as is and was never lived in. The walls are painted a light lilac, a frequent, little thing that pops up around her.

Purples. All shades. Lilac, plum, lavender, magentas.

Even the lotus flower tattoo on her thigh is shaded in with various purples.

Easily her favorite color.

At the end of the hallway, where the only other door is open, in big shimmering gold letters isCasa de Cuervos, est. 2018.So I was right; the home was purchased and never lived in… until now. I hear voices downstairs, but I can’t help myself. I step just outside the threshold and peer inside. Against the middle of the back wall between two windows is a giant black four-poster bed, the purple comforter is ruffled up. Two duffle bags are by a door that’s either an en-suite bathroom or a walk-in closet.

I turn and go back the way I came, standing at the base of the stairs, and watch as Damon cleans and disinfects her feet, her adorable face scrunched up in a wince. Her hands come up and make motions.

“I don’t care if you don’t like it, little bird, I have to clean and wrap your feet so they don’t get infected. You were already supposed to be resting your leg after last night. I knew you should’ve taken your Ambien.”

Her hands come up and then she spreads her legs, there, perched on the counter.

“Stop trying to distract me. If you think I won’t devour your sweet little cunt on this very counter because your feet are hurt, you’re very wrong. I’m eating your cunt. Not your feet.”

Jonas chokes on his hot chocolate. “Christ, we created a monster.” He laughs.

Raven sighs, annoyed.

Jonas leans over and kisses her cheek and then winks, “I love my little monster.”

Well, that answers my question.

Damon slathers an ointment on her feet, puts gauze on them and then wraps her feet and her hurt ankle. “No stitches needed, free of debris, just a few deep scratches but nothing rest won’t heal. Looks like she’ll be your backpack all weekend after all.” Damon smirks.

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