Chaos by Sarah Bailey

Twenty Eight

Scarlett

I lay on West’s bed, completely bare except for a pair of knickers he’d retrieved for me after he’d ruined my other clothes and stared up at the white ceiling. His head was on my stomach, his fingers tracing soft lines along the skin below my breasts. His eyes were closed, and my hand was in his light brown hair, stroking the soft strands. West wasn’t asleep, but he was quiet as his chest rose and fell with his breathing.

After the brutality he’d fucked me with, the peace and quiet was alien and almost unnatural. It’s as if carving the word ‘war’ into my skin and fucking me senseless afterwards had calmed him. I hadn’t processed my feelings about what he’d done. It was fucked up. So fucked up, but I didn’t exactly hate him for it. How did you even go about unpacking that shit?

A man I barely knew, and who terrified the shit out of me, had cut me with the intention of creating a scar. His way of branding me. Showing the world who I belonged to. And I’d given into it. I’d allowed him to do it without complaint. What kind of person did it make me? I had no fucking clue. Perhaps I’d crossed the veil and walked into the darkness with them… or maybe I’d been roped into it. Didn’t matter when I was locked in the abyss now.

Where could I even go from here? I was in love with one of them and another had carved his ownership over me onto my skin.

My eyes flicked down to the wound below my collarbone. It really fucking hurt when he did it. Even now, it was still sore. He’d been gentle when he cleaned it and told me it needed to stay uncovered. I hadn’t expected care from a man like West. One who went from calm to batshit crazy at the drop of a hat. It’s why I hadn’t objected to him keeping me in his room now. Besides, I wasn’t sure how the fuck the others would react to what he’d done. My sneaking suspicion was none of them would be very impressed.

West’s eyes opened. His lips curved up into a smile as his fingers moved higher, stroking the bottom of my breast. I tried not to react to his touch. Tried and failed. Goosebumps rose all over my skin. He didn’t speak as he raised his hand and used the pad of his finger to brush over the tip of my nipple. The more he did it, the harder it became until it was a stiff peak, eager for more of his maddening fingers.

“I didn’t think you were capable of being gentle,” I muttered under my breath knowing he would hear me regardless.

Those amber eyes regarded me without a hint of emotion in them.

“I’m capable of many things, Scar,” he murmured. “Things you can’t even imagine.”

He raised his head only to shift higher and lower his mouth towards my nipple. His tongue darted out and traced a line around my areola before he sucked my nipple in his mouth. I bit my lip, trying not to whimper at the way his tongue bathed it. My hand went to his hair again, brushing through the strands and adoring the way it felt against my fingertips.

My nipple popped out of his mouth and he breathed on it, making me tremble from the sensation of his hot breath on my wet skin.

“I’ll show you one day. The way I kill would make your stomach turn, but I’ll make you watch, let you hear the screams whilst I rip a man’s heart out of his chest with my bare hands.”

And here I thought psycho killer West had been contained after he’d been satisfied by me. Clearly not.

“Does everything come down to violence with you?”

He pressed a kiss to my breastbone.

“For the most part.” His eyes flicked up to mine and a wicked smile appeared on his face. “You like my violence, you’re just unwilling to admit it.”

I pursed my lips. There was no way in hell I wanted to incite more of his violent nature right now. He’d already hurt me enough today to last a lifetime. I was in no doubt he would make sure my new scar would be permanently etched on my skin for all to see. The only saving grace was he hadn’t made it too big. The word was small, but if I wore anything with a low neckline, it would be visible.

How on earth am I going to explain this to Prescott?

Why was I even thinking about that? It was West’s job to explain this shit to them, not mine. It hadn’t been my idea.

“If I asked you to be gentle, would you?”

His fingers stroked my nipple as he kissed his way down the centre of my chest.

“Maybe.”

I couldn’t stop my body from trembling from his touch. All I’d experienced from West was a brutal form of fucking. This was so at odds with what I knew of his nature. And I couldn’t help the way one of my walls fractured inside as he chipped away at the bottom of it.

As his mouth met my belly button, he licked his way around it, watching me from under his lashes. I hadn’t noticed how long they were before. You couldn’t call West anything other than gorgeous, even if he was fucking terrifying at the same time.

“You’d have to be good for me, Scar, then I’ll be as gentle as you need.”

His fingers curled into my knickers, tugging them down my legs, which he set on his shoulders before burying his face in my pussy. West brought me to not one but two intense orgasms, his tongue bathing my clit and his fingers speared into both my holes. I clawed at his head, but he didn’t let up until I was crying, tears streaming down my face at the overwhelming pleasure. I was surprised he didn’t try to fuck me again given the way his cock strained in his boxers when he’d finished with me. And I didn’t let on how disappointed I was about it. West’s dick was something else. At least, the things he did with it were. He knew how to hit me in the right places to send me flying.

West got off the bed and pulled on the rest of his clothes. He made me sit up and dressed me in the things he’d got from Francis’ room. Half my clothes were in there and the other in Prescott’s room. The loose t-shirt he dressed me in semi-hid the cuts on my skin and was so long it almost covered my jean shorts.

He took my hand and led me from the room after unlocking the door. I fidgeted, following him downstairs where we found all three of the others lounging on the sofas with the TV on. Drake was reading on his tablet whilst Francis and Prescott spoke in low voices. Their eyes followed me and West as he took me into the kitchen. He gathered up my hair in his fist, brushing it aside so he could place his lips to my neck.

“Go sit with the others whilst I make lunch,” he whispered into my skin.

“Will you make me a tea, please?”

He brushed a thumb along my stomach.

“As you wish, my little Scar.”

Then West pushed me towards the living room area. I padded over to the sofas, wondering who to sit with. Prescott put his hand out to me, so I chose to sit next to him. He curled his arm around my shoulder and pressed me against his side, kissing the top of my head.

“Okay, little lamb?”

I nodded, unsure of whether to say anything about what happened between me and West. My eyes went to Drake. His indigo ones were narrowed, fixed on my t-shirt. I instinctively pulled it higher on my collarbone and tried not to hiss at the fabric rubbing against the cuts.

“What is that?”

The tone of his voice scared the shit out of me. Deadly and cold.

“What’s what?”

“Don’t be smart, Scarlett.”

Prescott looked at me with concern, his eyes falling on where I was clutching my t-shirt over the carving on my skin.

I don’t want to show them.

Everything inside me screamed to jump off this sofa and hide in the false safety of West’s body. I could hear him moving around the kitchen and knew he’d heard Drake. He wasn’t going to protect me from this.

“What are you hiding, sweetness?” Prescott asked, reaching for my hand.

“Don’t!”

He gripped my fingers, peeling them away from my t-shirt. Then he tucked his own fingers under the fabric and exposed the word ‘war’ carved into my skin. For a moment, Prescott didn’t react, his blue eyes fixed on the marks. Then he sucked in a breath and his head whipped around to West. The anger in his blue eyes made me attempt to shrink back, but Prescott’s arm around my shoulder tightened, keeping me pinned against his side.

My head turned enough to allow me to see West. He stood by the kitchen island, a chopping board full of vegetables set out before him and his fingers clutched around a large knife. The sight of him casually making lunch shouldn’t have made me tremble, but West and knives had always brought me a shit ton of trouble.

“Go on,” West said, giving Prescott a maniacal smile. “Let’s hear it, Pres. You want to have a go at me for what you’re going to describe as mutilation. And I’m perfectly willing to listen.”

Prescott’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to, as Drake rose to his feet, throwing his tablet down. He moved towards me and Prescott, his indigo eyes almost black with anger. My bottom lip trembled when he leant over me and stared at the word on my collarbone himself. Then his eyes flicked up to West.

“I’m only going to ask this once. What the fuck were you thinking when you decided this was appropriate?”

“She needed a reminder of who she belongs to,” came West’s explanation. “A permanent one.”

I swallowed. It’s not as if I stopped him from doing it. But could I have done so if I tried? When it came to West, I didn’t think so.

“You carved ‘war’ into her fucking skin, West.”

“You can blame Pres.”

“What the fuck? I have nothing to do with this shit,” Prescott interjected. “I did not tell you to mutilate our girl.”

“What can I say? Your obsession with the horsemen wore off on me.”

“Fuck you. I’m not letting you put this shit on me.”

“We put up with a lot from you, but this… this…” Drake trailed off.

Without thinking, I reached out and touched Drake’s face. His eyes snapped to mine. The harsh breath emitting from his lips when I stroked a thumb across his cheek had me in half a mind to keep my mouth shut.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Don’t be mad at him.”

Who the fuck knew why I was defending West’s actions. Perhaps it was the way he’d cared for me afterwards. And he had made me come three times today.

Drake’s eyes narrowed.

“What did you just say?”

“I don’t want you all to fight over this.”

He straightened, forcing me to drop my hand from his face.

“Are you seriously defending him after everything he’s done to you?”

He pointed at the cuts on my collarbone. Prescott released my t-shirt, allowing it to settle back over them. I winced but kept staring up at Drake and his cold expression.

“No, but what is the point in arguing? It’s not going to change anything. I’m the one who has to live with it, not you.”

I don’t think Drake liked me speaking back to him. His jaw ticked and his hands curled into fists at his sides as if he was holding back from grabbing hold of me to teach me another one of his lessons. Pretty sure I’d had enough fucking lessons today after I’d been scarred for life by a psycho who was more than a little obsessed with me.

“We’ll discuss this later,” was all he said before he walked back to the sofa and sat down.

I had a feeling I would not be included in any discussions the four of them had about what West had done. Not wanting to earn myself another punishment, I kept my mouth shut and curled into Prescott instead, wrapping my arm around him. He rested his head on mine.

“Do you want me to punch him for you, little lamb?” he whispered.

“Who? West or Drake?” I whispered back.

He snorted.

“Both?”

I shook my head and buried my face in his chest, wincing at the movement of my shoulder. It pulled on the cuts. I was going to have to deal with this whilst it healed.

“No, just hold me.”

He kissed my hair and didn’t say any more. I was tired and it was barely the afternoon. My father hadn’t tried to call me back last night. I hadn’t heard from him yet today either. No doubt it was only a matter of time before he got hold of me. And to be honest, I dreaded that far more than anything these four could do to me.

Whilst I didn’t know how I felt about West’s actions, I did know he would protect me. He’d told me so. And if he ever found out about what my father had done to me, I was pretty sure he would make good on his promise to kill whoever had hurt me.

Did I want my parents dead for what they’d done to me?

It was a question I had no answer to.

No answer at all.