His to Keep by Lydia Goodfellow

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Black. The dress Father Aaron chose for me to wear to the party is black. A halter with a white rounded collar bound at the waist and a pretty pair of black heels to match. I’ve never worn shoes like these before, and I nibble on my bottom lip as I take in the length and pointiness of them. Momma swore by heels. The higher, the better, she claimed. But I never understood how she was able to, well, walk.

Next to my new things, laid out just as neatly, is a white shirt and pants for Callum. When I returned to the bedroom, he was staring at them with his teeth clenched behind his mouth. He didn’t acknowledge that I’d come back, and I tried to smother my pain with anger.

I’m so angry that he’s kept so much from me. His relationship with Orla, who was also taken by Father Aaron, was like a slap to my face. But then, I should be angry with myself for being stupid, thinking I mean something to him. How can I if he can’t be honest with me? Not only that, but I’m also not convinced this is the last of the secrets. Like why we’re having a party. What are we celebrating?

It’s eight-thirty when I grab the dress and shoes and get dressed in the bathroom, wincing when the clothing rubs on my scars. Running a brush through my hair and adding the headband, the heels feel strange as I slip them on my feet. Like when I first wore roller skates as a child. The same uncertainty if I’m going to fall is there, and I grab onto anything I can as I learn how to walk in them.

When I stumble back into the bedroom, Callum’s dressed too. As he fixes the cuff on his sleeve, I feel myself instantly blushing. He looks so handsome that I’m at a loss for words. Obviously still agitated, he glances my way, doing a once over of me. Despite his moodiness, his eyes widen a little, and he clears his throat before diverting his gaze away.

My chest flutters. No. We’re not speaking. I’m meant to hate him. The butterflies in my stomach must die. Now.

“Let’s go.” Abruptly turning, he leaves the room. Letting out a deep breath, I follow him as best I can, knowing I’d die of embarrassment if I tripped and fell into the back of him.

Gripping onto the banister as I descend the stairs, my nerves kickstart when he takes me in the direction of the lounge. Penny waits by the door, appearing pleasantly different tonight. Wearing a black floor-length gown, she’s brushed her hair back from her face, and there’s a glow in her cheeks. Like this, I see Callum in her features. Though, the coldness I know she harbors for me is potent in the same blue eyes when she glares at me. The same way he does when he wants to hate me.

We walk into the room. The one I entered when I first came here, unbeknown of Father Aaron’s dreadful plans for me. Unlike that day, red candles light every surface. Father Aaron and John are by the fire, the flames dancing across their dark silhouettes. They’re both dressed to impress with glasses of red wine in hand. When they turn to me, I wish the ground would open and swallow me. John openly leers at me, and Father Aaron takes in my appearance with a wicked burn in his gaze. It immediately sickens me, and I know I’m in for a long night.

Music comes on. Slow, gloomy choir music that reminds me of what they constantly sang in church. It depresses me. Makes me the shivery kind of cold as I stand beside Callum.

Father Aaron murmurs something to John, who nods and leaves with a secretive smirk on his face. Father Aaron turns to me then, grabbing a bottle of red wine and a glass. “A drink, Ava?”

“I-I’m underage,” I squeak out, but he laughs, pouring me one anyway.

“Nonsense.” As I reluctantly take it from him, I note his good mood. He looks sharp like a cobra in his elegant, black suit. How can nobody else see it? The evilness? He has the entire town of Little Willow fooled.

Just then, a piercing scream cuts the silence like a knife. It’s not mine or Penny’s. She’s beside Callum with her lips firmly pursed. Callum has his head bowed now, eyes purposefully avoiding mine because I’m sure if he looked at me, I’d see something I don’t want to.

Like the girl John drags into the room and violently tosses onto the rug.

“No, no, no!” she screams, large brown eyes wide and terrified. I’m so in shock I can’t move. “What do you people want from me? What do you want!”

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Every muscle in my body has seized as I take in the girl wearing a white dress. Another me.

She’s not familiar, certainly not from St Mary’s high school. You’d remember a face like hers. Even wet and red with tears, she’s stunningly beautiful—like a model you’d see in a magazine. Full lips, soft skin, and a slender nose. But she’s terrified, cowering and shaking brutally, the dress so thin on her slim frame.

She screams again when Father Aaron goes to her, and my heart drops to my stomach. That scream. Why do I recognize it? It was her. She was who I saw the night I was sick with a fever. Who I saw downstairs when I was looking for Callum. I wasn’t hallucinating.

“This is Maisie,” Father Aaron introduces her as if all of this is normal when it’s not. “I found her not long after I saved you, Ava. Like you, I knew she needed my help. Although, she is proving most…difficult.” Maisie sobs uncontrollably into the rug. As I stare wide-eyed down at her, I see myself, her fear the same as mine had been.

But seeing another one of Father Aaron’s victims isn’t the only thing troubling me. Callum’s still not looking at me, and I know why. My heart cracks. Because he lied to me. He knew about this. He knew Father Aaron had another girl in this house, and he kept it from me.

His betrayal cuts deep, and now everything makes sense. He was pushing me away because he knew about this. I’d never considered the possibility that there might be another entangled in this web. Is Maisie the only one? Are there more girls hidden in this house somewhere?

It’s like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. Everywhere hurts. All because he didn’t tell me.

“Seeing as Maisie is our newest family member, I think she must have time to adjust like you did, Ava. She can learn from you. I’ve already spoken with my son—she will be staying with you both in his room. Hopefully, she can learn obedience faster. Or I might have to try a different method.”

My body stiffens, Callum’s deceit now in the open, and it makes my blood boil. How could he? How many opportunities has he had to tell me and hasn’t?

Lifting the glass of wine to my lips, I gulp it down when I’ve never drunk before until it’s all gone and Father Aaron’s taking it from me to refill it. This is why he’s so happy. He’s done it again, taken another girl, and no doubt will get away with it. He’s sick!

I listen to Maisie’s sobs. She has to stay in the same room as us, and Callum has to make her listen and conform. Like how he made me. Or she’ll be hurt. Or killed.

Hurt stabs my chest, and I can’t breathe. I take another sip of wine and then another until that’s gone too. Before I know it, Callum’s in my face, ripping the glass out of my hand and putting it onto the mantel of the fireplace.

“No more,” he orders in a low tone. Glancing over his shoulder, Father Aaron’s busy dancing with Penny now, and John’s kneeling down by Maisie tormenting her.

Lifting my head, I finally meet his glare with one of my own. “Go to hell,” I spit at him.

I go to walk away, but as always, he grabs my arm and whirls me back around to him.

“What’s going on?” Father Aaron calls out from the other side of the room, and I stare at Callum with a mixture of disbelief and fear. What is he doing? Does he want to get beaten?

But his arm wraps around my waist instead, and he grabs my hand. “Ava wants to dance.”

“No, I do—” His fingers dig into my hip, stopping me from saying anything more. Go with it. Even though I could think of nothing worse right now.

“Fine, fine,” Father Aaron drunkenly brushes off, continuing to spin Penny around, who smiles up at him like he’s the most remarkable person to ever walk the earth. I would’ve thought it quite sad if I weren’t so distracted by their son driving a dagger into my heart.

Despite my fury toward him, my face burns as Callum moves me to the music. The first time we’ve ever danced, and I’m terrible at it. Somehow, he manages to lead me around the room without any mishaps in my shoes.

“Go to hell?” he questions once we’re out of earshot of anyone.

I nod as he forces me to keep moving. “You’re a liar. You told me nobody was screaming, or did you think I’d forget about that?”

His jaw hardens, and I get my answer.

Pushing him away, I turn to Father Aaron. “M-my Lord?” my voice quivers, still hating using that name for him. “May I go and lie down? I may have drunk too much.”

“But we’ve so much to celebrate,” Father Aaron says, and Penny glowers at me like I’m ruining everything.

“I’m sorry.” My tongue feels thick and too large in my mouth, the wine fuzzing the edges of my vision. “Please?”

With a sigh, he nods. “Fine. Go.”

Nodding but not listening, I move around a howling Maisie and rush for the stairs. Once out of view, a cry splinters my throat. Putting my hand over my mouth to smother the sound, I don’t stop until I’m in the bedroom and slamming the door behind me.

I’ve been robbed. I’ve experienced things with Callum, let him touch and kiss me, and he couldn’t be honest with me.

I’m to break you, Ava.

Is he happy now? He’s more than broken me.

Throwing myself onto the bed, I cry so hard my heart feels like it might burst out of my chest. All this time, I’ve been caught in a lie. Has anything between us been real? Or am I just a frustration he takes out on me like he did with Orla?

Going into the bathroom, I undress and kick the heels off. I can only guess the color change in clothing means tonight was a kind of initiation. That I’m now a faithful member of this sadistic household.

Catching my reflection in the mirror, tears streak my cheeks. White-hot anger sears my insides, so aggressive, I have the urge to lash out. And I do. Slamming my fist into the mirror, I hit it repeatedly until it cracks. I’m bleeding, a chunk of skin now missing from my knuckle. Ouch. Blood pours from it, and I feel nothing as I watch it drip into the basin. How can I feel nothing?

I’ve always been the good girl. Always friendly and polite and stupidly naïve. I never confront or argue. Always bow down and accept. Even I know the old Ava is gone. Who am I now? What has the badness changed me into?

The bedroom door opens, but I don’t move nor care that I’m standing here in just my underwear. Footsteps sound behind me. “What the fuck have you done?”

Callum. He’s taken my hand and runs my knuckles under the faucet. He’s furious and yelling at me, but I can’t hear a word he’s saying. All I can do is watch him press a towel to the cut, mopping up the blood still spilling down my hand. I look so pale in the cracks of the mirror, my large, watery eyes vacant and dead.

I feel dead.

Grabbing his shirt, I push him back into the wall. He isn’t expecting it, and he smacks into the tiles with an audible oomph. Just as he’s about to ask what I’m doing, I kiss him hard. And then I pull back and slap him, the sound of it crashing in my ears. I splatter blood everywhere. On his shirt, on the tiles, and floor.

“You lied.” He stares at me in shock, and maybe I’m shocked too. But I’m sick of feeling like this.

“I—”

“How long have you known?” He bows his head and looks at the ground. “Look at me! Look at me and tell me the truth!”

He does. “Since Christmas.”

“You’ve known since…since Christmas?” My voice shakes, and I can’t believe it. All this time? Grabbing the towel off him, I wrap it around my throbbing hand. “And you thought I wasn’t worthy enough of knowing?”

He runs a hand through his hair and scrunches it at the base. “You were sick, and then the punishment happened, I couldn’t, I…”

“I guess I don’t mean anything to you. Who even knows? When Maisie stays in this room, you’ll probably try getting it on with her too!”

His face twists with disgust, and I know what I said is childish and taunting, but he deserves it. “I wouldn’t go near her.”

“I don’t believe you,” I yell at him. “You’re a liar!”

“For fucks sake, Ava,” he swears at me. “You do mean something to me. Things are different with us. I don’t know what, but they are. They still are, even after what I did to you—”

“Stop it. Nothing’s different. You keep everything from me. You don’t do that to people you like.”

“I keep things from you because I care about you, and I’ve hurt you enough. I told you that I don’t deserve you, and you never listened. You kept pushing. Do you think I can even touch that girl in that way? What happened with Orla was a mistake, but we aren’t a mistake. It’s not like I planned for it to happen.”

I shake my head. “And yet you’ll watch your father rape me.” He grits his teeth. “Fight,” I suddenly blurt. “Fight with me, and we’ll get out. Have a life away from this place. You hate him and what he does but do his bidding? For what?”

His teeth grind together. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is. I think the only reason you’re staying is because of your mother. Why can’t you see that she will put him before you always?”

“It’s nothing to do with her. Never has been.” His tone is stern. Impatient. “You don’t want a life with me. I can’t give it to you. You don’t know what or who my father is involved with. The people he’s friends with will come for us both if we escape. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Orla before, or about the new girl. I’m sorry I keep hurting you. But why can’t you see that I’m trying to keep you safe?”

“Then prove it.” He frowns with confusion as I take his hand and pull him into the bedroom. Pushing him onto the bed, I step between his parted knees. If anybody walks in and witnesses this, I’ll be dead in an instant.

Why don’t I care?

Running my hand through his hair, he breathes out, his hands gripping the back of my thighs. “When your father had you whip me to convince him that I hadn’t used my wickedness and seduced you, you proved it to him. So, prove to me that you’re sorry. That you’re trying to keep me safe. That you care about me.”

He gazes up at me questioningly. “How?”

Leaning into him, I lower my head and kiss him. Unlike before, this kiss is slow and deep. Maybe it’s the wine, but it feels enhanced somehow, his taste driving me wild. Butterflies erupt inside my chest. It’s been a while since it’s been like this, and I’ve missed him. Letting my hands slip down, I go to grab the button of his pants. But like I knew he would, he immediately grabs my wrists. Our eyes clash, and I hope he can see what I want without saying the words aloud.

“Ava, no.” He shakes his head, moving away from me by standing. “You don’t want that.”

“Don’t tell me what I want.” Emotion swells in my chest that he’s about to reject me. “This is the one thing I still have control of. So much has been taken away from me already, don’t let him take this choice away.”

“We can’t—”

“If you do care about me, feel anything for me, then give me this.”

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he groans. “You won’t be a virgin anymore. We got away with it last time, but we won’t the next.”

Reaching out, I grab his arm. “Callum—”

“No. If that’s not bad enough, I’ll hurt you. It won’t even be worth it.”

“I know it’s supposed to hurt.”

He shakes his head. “What you’re asking—”

“Is something you want to happen, and so do I.”

“You don’t know what you want,” he argues. “You’re drunk and being irrational. I’d never do anything without your consent.”

“I had two glasses. I’m not drunk. You have my consent to take my virginity.”

“You’re not thinking straight.” Walking toward me, he grabs the back of my neck and our foreheads touch. “Don’t ask me to do this.”

“Please,” I whisper, gripping his shirt. “Help me trust you.”

Staring into my eyes, I gasp when he gives in and kisses me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss him back, my stomach somersaulting, realizing I’ve never stopped wanting him. Even though he’s a liar. Even though he won’t fight his family to free us.

If this is all he can give me, then it has to be enough.

As his tongue enters my mouth, he grabs my hips and backs me up against the dresser. His mouth drops to my neck as he grips my backside and lifts me. Wrapping my legs around him, he pulls away so we can both catch our breaths.

“Tell me to stop.” I shake my head, clinging onto him, afraid that he’ll push me away if I don’t hold on tight. “Do you still dream of me?”

“Every night.”

He kisses me again. Carrying me over to the bed, he sets me down and leans up to look at me. With his black hair hanging over his forehead, he resembles every bit the Devil’s son as his hands run down my stomach and thighs. It tickles, and I moan, burning hot. My panties are already soaked. The familiar ache and need for him firing up.

Pulling down the cups of my bra, he leans over me and swirls his tongue around my nipple, groaning like he’s been starved and he’s getting his first meal. Lifting his head, he squeezes his eyes shut. “We can’t do this.”

“If you don’t, he will, and you’ll lose me,” I vow because it’s true. Once Father Aaron takes me, I’ll die a thousand deaths. I know I will.

Swearing beneath his breath, he gets off the bed. Just when I think he might be leaving, Callum grabs the chair and drags it over to the door. Shoving it up under the handle, it’ll buy us time if anyone tries to come in. Music is still blaring downstairs, and I can hear Father Aaron laughing still.

Turning back to me, I stare nervously at him as he comes back over to the bed and leans over me. A trail of goosebumps prickles my skin as his hand goes under the hem of my panties. Touching between my legs, his fingers moving in a circular motion around my clit. My back arches from the bed. “You’re so wet.”

I flush. “Is that…a good thing?”

Leaning up, he kisses me on the mouth and nods. Unclipping my bra from behind, he drags it down my arms and then pulls down my panties. My heart races as he undoes his belt and unbuttons his pants, pulling them down, along with his boxers, until they’re off. His shirt’s next, and he unbuttons each button torturously slow. He’s now naked, and I can’t take my eyes off him. The touch of his skin on mine makes me burn up like I have a fever again as he comes back down, kissing me more ferociously this time. He’s intoxicating me, and I never want him to stop.

Spreading my legs wider, I feel him hard and jutting as he rubs against my sex. This is it, I think. Holding my breath, my nails dig into his arms, and he pauses. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just…be gentle with me.”

His features soften, and he wraps his arm around my shoulders, holding me closer to him. “I promise I’ll try to.”

It takes him a few tries to push the tip of himself inside of me. I inhale sharply and grip him tighter, knowing I’m going to leave nail indents on his skin.

“Relax,” he tells me, placing tiny kisses in the corners of my mouth. “It’ll hurt much worse if you tense.”

Pushing into me a little more, I let out a small cry as he stretches me. I’m unsure whether he’s in entirely, and I’m uncertain if I want him to go any further. “Callum.”

“I’ll stop.”

“No—no.” How conflicting my thoughts are. Wanting him to stop but not wanting him to. “Keep going. J-just slowly.”

Pulling out as gently as he can, being the size that he is, he slowly pushes into me again. It still hurts and feels weird. But the strangled noise of pleasure he makes has my insides rattling. It’s the hottest sound I’ve ever heard from his mouth, reminding me of the time I watched him in the bathroom, dying to know what his face looked like up close. And now I’m witnessing him coming apart because of me.

I know he’s holding back, but the pain lessens as he keeps a steady pace, each thrust getting easier to bear. His body shakes against mine, sweat beading his brow. “Ava.”

A shot of pleasure ripples through my core at the sound of my name. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. His breathing hitches when he feels it too, and he swells even thicker inside of me. His hips jerk into me a little quicker this time, and it’s a nice kind of pain. I moan, consumed by him. All these feelings I’ve never felt before.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and I realize he’s staring down at me. Our breaths get heavier, our movements more demanding. Bending down, his mouth finds my nipple again, and he lavishes it with his tongue, enough to send multiple tingles rushing through my body. Instinctively, I arch my hips, meeting his thrust, and the feeling I get knocks my breath away.

“Oh…” I do it again and again, each time the feeling building, getting more intense. Like all those other times, but more. Somehow.

“Oh fuck.” His words are a rush of hot air against my skin. He buries his head in the crook of my neck, and I push my hands through his damp hair, tugging gently.

In the next second, my orgasm ripples through my body, and I’m falling and falling. Callum plants his palm over my mouth as I moan and wither beneath him.

“I have to…I have to pull out.” I hear him say in the haze of pleasure. Pulling out of me, something hot and warm falls onto my stomach, and then he collapses on top of me, sweat dampening us both as we work to catch our breaths. Closing my eyes, I grip onto him, running my hand through his damp hair and kissing him on the mouth, wanting more, never wanting to let him go.

He lifts his head, worry in his eyes as he inspects me. “Did I hurt you?”

“Hmm?” I murmur hazily.

“Did I hurt you?”

Opening my eyes, I look at him and shake my head. “It hurt a little at first, but then it got better.”

He sighs. “You don’t regret it?”

“No,” I say, meaning it. “I don’t regret it. I wanted you to be my first. I…I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Neither have I,” he says, features twisting with something I can’t name.

I bite my lip. “You haven’t? Orla didn’t…um…you know?”

“No,” he replies dryly. “Do you know how I know it’s different?” I shake my head. “Because I’m willing to go to hell to have you again. Right now.” My face flushes, feeling him hardening again. “And I never wanted her again.”

“Oh.” I want him too, even though I’m sore and aching and bleeding. “Can I come to hell with you?”

Groaning, he kisses me again, and then we fall into the fire.