Page 13 of Worth

“Blake.”

I’ve never been one for following orders. Clearly. But something in the dark tone that Zander uses as he says my name—the first time anyone has said my name in years—has me stopping in my tracks. I don’t look back at him, nor do I say anything. I want to. The way he immediately made me submit with a single word has me wanting to study him like a science lab frog without the stinky formaldehyde.

“Where will you go?” he asks.

“As far away from here as possible,” I answer with a calmness I don’t feel. I have no fucking clue where I’m going. I don’t even knowwhereI am. All I know is that Damien’s estate is four hours from the city I once lived, and I don’t know how long or what direction Aiden traveled from there after I fell asleep.

Zander lets out a frustrated noise and I look back over my shoulder in time to see him perch on the arm of a chair, draping his arms over his spread legs. He watches me and I watch him right back. Why I’m not walking off like I intended, I have no idea. I almost feel like...like I’m waiting for permission. Which is ridiculous.

“Please, can we keep her, Zander?” Aiden pleads.

He sighs. “You know we don’t keep Skins we nab. We should put her into service.”

Aiden stomps his foot. “But—”

“But,” Zander interrupts, “this one we’ll keep here until I figure out if she’ll be useful.Thenshe can start earning her freedom.”

I don’t have time to argue with his verdict because Aiden sweeps me into his arms and spins me around while he grins the grin of someone with a few screws loose.

“First things first, Kitten,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up and find you some decent clothes.”

“Put me down, Aiden,” I demand, wriggling in his grasp. “And quit calling me Kitten!”

“Aiden,” Zander calls as I’m carried from the room despite my protests. “You can’t keep her indefinitely. Just until we get more information. She is not yours.”

“Okay, dad,” Aiden snarks under his breath, then beams at me. “You’re all mine now.”

I’m surprised it’s not dread that fills my veins at the thought, which only serves to rattle me. I swore if I ever escaped Damien that I would never belong to another. Except now I do and all I can think is that at least it’s Aiden with his puppy dog like personality—psychotic puppy dog, but puppy dog nonetheless – and not the cold, broody Zander who just commanded my body like he was its true master.

I watch Aiden carry Blake kicking, though not screaming, from the sitting room. The girl is underfed, certainly, but her eyes are bright and her attitude is soaring miles above where I’d thought someone who held her position in Damien’s household would be. Damien, the sadist that he is, had somehow managed not to snuff out her spark.

Fucking Damien. The thought of him doing the things I knew he did to hisspecialfemale Skins made my hands clench into fists, the vision of Blake fighting him as he tried to pin her down, stoking fury inside me. What made me think she was a fighter? Besides the way she was responding to Aiden? I had no doubt that she had been frequently tied to the bed, evidenced by the scarring on her wrists, in addition to the fresh ligature marks. Skins who have submitted don’t need to be tied anymore.

I should know.

Something falls with a loud thud upstairs and I grimace, pushing to my feet to investigate.

“Everything is fine up here,” Aiden yells, and I can hear the panting in his voice. “Kitten, here is just being a little feisty.”

“Stop calling me Kitten!” Blake screams, followed by another thud.

Aiden chuckles nervously. “Hey, Zander? These books you’re always telling me not to touch—you don’t care if Blake touches them, right?”

My eyes widen. “Those are first editions, asshole!” I bellow, stomping towards the stairs.

I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear a scuffle, and by the time I make it to the landing, Aiden has Blake slung over his shoulder once more, whistling some random country song he’s always singing as he walks her towards the guest room—the one with the outside lock on it.

“Christ,” I mumble, picking up first editions of the classics—like Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights—and slipping them back into their proper places on the shelf. I scan to make sure I’m not missing any others, finding everything in its place.

I hear the shower start amidst her cursing and threats. I wince as I hear a slap and a thud, followed by a shriek, knowing that Aiden likely just threw the girl down into the tub without realizing he might hurt her.

“Hold still, Kitten,” Aiden yells. “I’m trying to give you a bath.”

I creep closer, wanting to deny that I’m curious about what is happening. I slip through the bedroom door to peek into the en-suite bathroom and immediately have to stifle a chuckle.

Blake is all but climbing Aiden like a tree, batting at his face, while he attempts to use the handheld showerhead to wet her down. Pink water sluices off her as the blood spatter on her skin and dress—which Aiden has neglected to remove—starts to wash away. Aiden twists as Blake lunges at him and catches her in a headlock.

“There now,” he says coaxingly. “Let’s wash this hair.”

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