Chaos by Sarah Bailey

Six

Scarlett

Someone was screaming. The noise rang in my ears, making me wonder who on earth was that terrified. And it took me several minutes to come to the realisation the sound was emitting from my mouth.

“Scarlett!”

I shot up in bed, my body trembling all over and snapped my mouth shut. Staring down at my shaky fingers, I tried not to whimper. Why had I been screaming? I’d taught myself not to alert other people when I was having a nightmare. It had only led to pain. To beatings if I woke up my parents in the middle of the night. I wasn’t at home though. Not any longer.

“Scarlett, are you okay?”

Turning my head, I found Francis sat on the bed next to me, his grey eyes full of concern. It was still dark outside. The light of the city and the moon streamed in illuminated him. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, his bare chest on display. Every part of me wanted to press myself against him all over again like I had done in the shower.

“No.”

He hesitated before reaching out and taking one of my trembling hands. It wasn’t enough. I needed more contact. More of him. I wanted the false pretence of safety he provided.

Although I didn’t have full control over my panicked body, I tugged my fingers from his and pulled back the covers, a blatant invitation to join me. When he didn’t immediately move, I got desperate. Why was he so reluctant this time? He hadn’t been in the shower. He’d held me and comforted me.

“Please… I need you to hold me.”

I almost let out a sob of relief when he climbed into the bed next to me, pulling the covers over himself and tugging me against his warm body. My fingers clutched him, sliding down his back and keeping him pinned to my shaky body. He stroked my hair and put his chin to the top of my head.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, as if talking any louder would break the cocoon we’d found ourselves in.

I breathed him in. The scent of cinnamon and apples filled my senses. Why did he always smell so damn good? It made him feel like home. Like a part of me belonged with Francis. Only it was crazy to think that. Crazy to feel it when I barely knew him. Why did he feel so real and familiar? I wanted to ask him, but something kept me from doing so. Self-preservation. If I asked, it could trigger a catalyst of bad events for me. After tonight, and the boys forcing me to kill for them, I didn’t think rocking the boat any further would be a good idea.

“I have nightmares almost every night. Like my memories are trying to bleed back into my consciousness, but they’re all jumbled up. I can’t remember them clearly when I wake up either.”

The only night I hadn’t dreamt was when I slept in Prescott’s arms. My heart burnt, feeling lost without the man who’d shown his true colours to me. Why the fuck did I care so much? I wanted to go give him a piece of my mind, but it would be pointless. He wasn’t going to change his stance on what he’d done. And at this point, I had no idea if he really gave a shit about me or not. Was I only sex to him? Was I a warm body for all of them?

If that was true, then why would Francis have comforted me? He had no reason to hold me in the shower. And he had absolutely no reason to be doing so now other than I’d asked him to.

Even though he had me clutched tight to his chest, my body wouldn’t stop trembling. My rioting mind was too full. I couldn’t stop thinking and processing, going over in my head all of these questions I had. I couldn’t ask any of them. The answers were ones I feared, as were the repercussions of probing too much.

This wasn’t normal. After a nightmare, I’d calm down within minutes. Not this time. Not even with him keeping me safe. My body felt under threat. The shock of the evening and the nightmare had set off a chain reaction inside me.

“I can’t… I can’t stop shaking,” I whispered, my fingers digging into his back.

He rubbed my back but even that didn’t help. I didn’t know what to do.

“Has this happened before?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“Not… not like this.”

He was silent for a beat, then he pulled back and took my chin between his fingers.

“Will you let me try something?”

I nodded. I was willing to do anything to calm my warring thoughts. To stop my senses from overloading. When his fingers went to the bottom of my t-shirt, I didn’t question it. Nor when he pulled it off me. He leant over to his bedside table, tugged open the bottom drawer and took something out. Francis made me sit up, and he situated himself behind me, pulling my back to his chest.

“I’ve been told this can bring a person comfort, like being wrapped up helps them, contains the panic they’re feeling,” he told me as he took my wrists, pushed them together and knotted a length of soft rope up my arms, binding them together. He slid the rope behind my back, binding my arms to my chest. “I know it sounds rather counterproductive, but you wanted me to hold you. It wasn’t working so maybe you need something tighter.”

“What is this?”

“Japanese bondage,” he murmured. “Shibari, also known as Kinbaku.”

I stared down at his hands working their intricate knots with the rope. He watched his hands over my shoulder, making sure he tied everything just right. When he was done, he let me rest against his chest, his hands laying on his thighs on either side of me.

The sensation of being tied up was odd, to say the least. My body had begun to settle down as he tied the knots, as if having something to concentrate on focused my mind. I let out a breath. My chest was constricted by the knots and my arms against it, but in a lot of ways, Francis was right. It comforted me. Made me feel safer than ever.

“Is it okay?” he asked. “I didn’t want to make them too tight as it’s your first time.”

I nodded, relaxing into him.

“Is this what you like?” I asked after a long minute.

“What?”

“Tying people up.”

He chuckled and stroked his fingers along my hip.

“Yes, but what I’ve done to you now is nothing like what I would do if it was a sexual situation.”

I looked at him over my shoulder. He had a smirk on his face like he was imagining it. Imagining doing it to me, whatever it was. I sure as shit didn’t know exactly what he’d do if he was tying me up during sex.

“Are you going to do it to me?”

The way his silvery-grey eyes darkened at my words made me think asking him wasn’t such a good idea.

“Eventually.”

“Is that why you held me down in the car?”

His fingers moved from my hip, stroking along the rope on my wrist.

“I want to restrain you, Scarlett, either with my hands or bindings.” He curled a hand around my bare thigh, resting right where my shorts ended. “You can struggle and strain against them, but I won’t let you out.”

I let out a breath, shivering as his fingers stroked my inner thigh. His face dropped to my neck.

“But right now, I’m going to sit here with you until you feel better, then I’ll untie you and you can go back to sleep.”

“Will you stay with me whilst I sleep?”

He didn’t answer me straight away, merely continued to drive my nerve-endings crazy with his stroking fingers.

“If it’s what you want.”

“The only night I haven’t had a nightmare recently is the one I spent with…”

I didn’t want to say his name. To even think it. I’d already done that and it made my heart ache. It ached now, burning in my chest with the force of a thousand suns. A tear leaked from my eye. Why did it hurt so much? Why did I yearn for him even after he’d made me feel like he didn’t care about my feelings? Like he didn’t care how his actions hurt me. Why did I miss the way his blue eyes darkened and how he called me his little lamb?

I had to stop dwelling on it, but by fuck did I want to hurt him for the way he’d hurt me. To cut his damn black heart out of his chest and squeeze it tight in my fist. To show him he wasn’t fucking well immune to me. And to prove I had as much power over him as he did me.

“Do you want to talk about him more?”

“No!”

“Scarlett—”

“Stop calling me that, Frankie. I’m Scar to you, remember?”

His stroking faltered for the merest of seconds. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’d said anything odd, had I?

“It’s okay to admit you have feelings for him, Scar.”

I swallowed, shifting in my bindings.

“I don’t want to have them. I don’t want to feel anything for any of you.”

He kissed the side of my neck, giving his answer without words. Telling me he understood and wasn’t going to press the issue further.

“Are you feeling better?” he whispered, his tongue tracing a line across my skin. “Seeing you like this is giving me ideas. Dirty ideas about all the ways I want to wring pleasure from your body.”

My breath caught in my throat. A throbbing started below at the thought of him doing things to me whilst I was bound and unable to escape. I’d given up working out why I was so attracted to their darker sides. To the kinkier side of sex. Perhaps their natures called to mine.

“You can untie me.”

Francis hesitated, his fingers still stroking. Then he shifted, making me sit up so he could loosen all the knots. He was so methodical about it, making sure he undid them in the order he’d knotted them.

“How did you learn to do this?”

“I had classes. It interested me and I wanted to do it safely… so I could break the rules later on.”

I didn’t comment on it. They all were the type to break rules and do whatever the hell they wanted.

When he was done, he carefully folded up the rope and tucked it back away in his bedside drawer. He pulled my t-shirt back over my head and encouraged me to curl up next to him. Francis pressed a kiss to my temple, stroking a hand down my arm before he lay back. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep again, listening to the sound of his breathing lull me back into the void.