His to Keep by Lydia Goodfellow

Chapter Twelve

Iwake to the sound of banging. Peeling my eyes open and gazing around the room, I relax when the bedroom door remains shut, and I was only dreaming. Realizing where I am, I try to remember why I’m on the floor. That is, until the gentle thuds of Callum’s heartbeat vibrate beneath my ear, reminding me that I’d fallen asleep against him.

His arms are wrapped around me, and it’s warm in his embrace. But before I can bask in this strange delight, his arms loosen around me, and he yawns, waking up.

Leaning off his chest, I lift my hand to rub the sleep from my eyes before turning to face him, intending to meet his own sleepy gaze and offer a small smile. I’d slept well, and I know he’s the reason why. But our eyes don’t meet. His eyes are on my chest instead and widening.

Glancing down, the buttons John tore off have left it gaping open, and my breast pokes out, nipple hard and thoroughly uncovered.

Oh, no.

Callum’s cheeks flush dark pink, and instead of reaching to cover my body, I watch him swallow hard before his bottom lip rolls into his mouth.

My stomach flips. It’s wrong, but for some reason, I like him looking at me. My heart thumps as he fumbles with his hands, blood now dried into the cracks of his knuckles. For a moment, I think he’s going to touch me. It seems like he wants to, though he doesn’t make a move to.

“What are you thinking?” I watch him watch me, anticipation pumping through my veins, curiosity smoldering.

“That you’re beautiful.” My lips part as his eyes lift to meet mine, his hand rising to tuck my hair behind my ear. My eyelids flutter, chills spreading down my neck and spine. The tingly kind I’ve never felt before. Instead of acting out the thoughts playing out in my head and touching me as John had done, he takes the collar of my dress and covers me instead. “You should change. Before John comes.”

It’s almost six, which means dinner’s soon, and John will return. When he shifts away, shame pricks my skin like nasty little needles. Covering myself, I get off the floor and flee to the bathroom. Once the door’s closed, I fall back against it, covering my face with my hands. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I let him look at me?

It’s true. I am rotten to the core. A dirty whore as Gran said I’d become. Like John stated I am.

Going to the sink, I splash cold water over my face. I brush my hair and teeth in the same robotic fashion as I strip and dress. When I’m done, there’s an urgent knock on the door. Taking a deep breath, I leave the bathroom, my stomach twisting when I see John’s back. I’ve tried not to think about what he did to me hours ago but seeing him now brings it back in flashes.

“Hurry up—he’s waiting.” He walks out without another word, and Callum and I exchange glances before leaving. Knowing he senses it like I do. Something doesn’t feel right.

When we enter the dining room, Father Aaron’s there and food is already laid out on the table. He smiles, and I cringe with disgust as I sit in my usual place.

“How was today?” he asks John, and my heart stops.

“Fine, my Lord,” he says, lifting his own glass of wine to his lips. He eyes me over the rim, and I hope he can see the disgust etched into every crevice of my face. I had wondered how he’d done what he did to me today without Father Aaron’s knowledge, and now I know whenever Father Aaron goes out, he must leave John in charge. I’m relieved that there isn’t any suspicion in his gaze. If he found out what John did, I doubt he’d be the one getting punished.

“I was out attending another summer fundraiser today,” he starts to tell me. “Your Grandmother submitted some knitted work. They did well at the auction—she raised a lot of money for the church.”

My fork slips out of my hand and clatters onto my plate, the noise sharp and jarring. I know he told me this on purpose, and I can’t help fall for it. Grans happy. She doesn’t care. My heart breaks, overwhelming me with pain. He’s wrong. Lying. But why doesn’t it feel like he is?

“It seems the day has arrived once again,” Father Aaron says, returning to his meal. But he’s not talking to me—he’s talking to Callum. “Be ready.”

A strange silence follows Father Aaron’s announcement. It has Penny bowing her head and John’s lips arching smugly.

“Wonder how long it’ll take him to cry this time,” John snickers, fueled by the second glass of wine Penny poured him.

Callum’s hand clenches on top of his thigh beneath the table, eyes flaring with an anger that could be dangerous for us both. Without a thought, I weave my fingers through his and squeeze hard. Don’t. Keeping my eyes ahead, I’m surprised when he tightens his grip on my hand. It’s kind of painful, but if it stops him from getting hurt like last time and being starved, it’ll be worth it.

He finally relaxes, and I breathe out silently. Something tickles my lower belly.Here we are—sitting among evil holding onto each other when we don’t know each other. Why does it feel like this with him?

When John shifts topics after not getting the rise from Callum he wanted, we let go of each other. Reaching for my fork to finish my meal, I sense eyes on me. Eyes which don’t usually lift from her lap. Penny stares at me through the curtain of her unwashed hair, eyes so dead, I’m immediately frozen to the bone.

She hates me, is my immediate thought. And as if to prove my thoughts right, her lips tighten, and her top lip curls into a sneer. I look back at my plate, uncomfortable that the only other woman in this house despises me. I hope I never have to find out why.

* * *

I lie awake,staring at the stars poking through black clouds out of the window. Longing floods my chest, wanting to feel clean air on my skin. Breathe it in. How had I taken something so simple for granted before? If I ever get out of here, I never will again, and I vow to never allow anyone to keep me prisoner.

It’s nearing midnight, and I can’t sleep, though I’m not the only one. Callum sits at the desk, staring at the wall, his body like steel. He’s been like this since we got back, and I’m guessing it’s because of what Father Aaron said to him at dinnertime. What could it be? The curiosity is too much to control. “What’s tomorrow?”

He breathes out deeply, like he expected me to eventually ask. “Nothing.”

His response reminds me of when I said the same thing back to him, which bothers me. I thought something might’ve changed between us, but nothing has. He’s still an enigma as I am to him.

“You don’t have to lie,” I say, getting annoyed by the secrecy and not knowing what the hell is going on here.

“Tomorrow is my birthday. I’ll be gone for a little while.”

My eyebrows pull together. “Why? Do you get something on your birthday?”

“You could say that.”

I play with my fingers, the thought of being alone troubling. “How long will you be gone for?”

“Can’t say.” Getting up, he runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

Sitting up also, I’m not sure if I should continue asking, but I want to understand. “What happens?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me—”

“Nothing!” He whips around to face me, his sudden explosion of anger shocking me to the core. “Stop asking me things I can’t fucking answer.”

Clamping my lips together, I drop my gaze. It’s the first time Callum’s ever raised his voice to me, and I can already feel the effect ripping at my chest, causing tears to prick my eyes. “I’m sorry—”

“And stop saying that. The only one who needs to be sorry is me for being born an abomination. Tomorrow is my punishment for existing. I wasn’t meant to do it this time, but you came and—” He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You wouldn’t fucking understand.”

Storming into the bathroom, he slams the door behind him. The shower turns on, and then nothing. I sit very still, my heart thumping rapidly.

An abomination. Punishment for existing. You wouldn’t fucking understand.

Why do I wish I did?