Take off her clothes? Oh, that was what she always tried to avoid so he wouldn’t see her scars, so he wouldn’t see just how damaged she was. What kind of game was he playing now? First he didn’t want her and then he was willing to play with her but not actual sex. She was so confused. Perhaps the best thing to do was a strategic retreat. “I’ll be right back.”
She fled to the bathroom, flipping the light switch on and then wishing she hadn’t. She was fairly certain something had scurried behind the shower curtain. She was going to finally do it. She was going to be patient zero in a North American plague outbreak.
What was she doing? She was picking the rats, or something slightly larger, over the kindest, most gorgeous man she’d ever met? She really was caught in some sort of martyrdom. Poor little Chelsea. She wasn’t as smart or as fast as her big sister. Her father had only wanted Charlotte. He’d just taken Chelsea along as a bargaining chip to gain Charlotte’s compliance, and when Charlotte fucked up, oh, Chelsea had been the one to suffer.
Chelsea turned on the water to cold and was grateful when it came out clear. She stared at herself for a moment, almost not recognizing the woman she saw in the mirror. She was older, more careworn. She had breasts and hips. Somehow she still saw herself as a child, or at least a teenaged girl who never had to grow up because she’d been brutalized and in exchange, she got to forego responsibility, got to be selfish.
Got to wash blood off her face. Got to run away from anything that might be good for her. Got to screw up anything that might be good for her sister.
If she stayed here, she would put a wedge between Charlotte and Ian because she’d done such a damn fine job of making Charlotte feel guilty. They were probably fighting over her as she sat here staring.
Charlotte would want to find her as quickly as possible and Ian would be more than happy to leave her in Simon’s care. Ian would resent the position Charlotte put him in. He would come to resent the fact that Charlotte tried to put Chelsea first. He wouldn’t understand that it was all because Chelsea had taken all the beatings, all the abuse, all the pain. He couldn’t understand that one night Charlotte had found her with a dead body pinning her to the bed.
“If you try to get out through the window, I will hunt you down, Chelsea.” Simon sounded like he was standing right outside the door.
Chelsea wiped the blood off her face, watched it turn the water pink briefly before disappearing down the drain. It was time to get out of purgatory. Maybe that bomb in a box had been the best thing to happen to her. It let her know it was time to go.
She was going to leave. As soon as she figured out how to get The Collective off her back, she would very quietly do what she should have done in the first place. She would step aside and let Charlotte live her life. She would disappear and then Charlotte and Ian could have little satanic babies and be happy.
Simon could be happy.
But she had a few days before she had to go back into the darkness again. Was she going to be brave or regret every moment she spent not being with him?
The door opened abruptly. Simon stared down at her. “I thought it would be locked.”
It had been a good bet. It was certainly the kind of thing she’d done in the past. Now she wondered if she’d been a vicious brat around him because she’d been desperate to get his attention and being mean was the only way she knew how to get it. “I’m not dumb, Weston. I wanted you to be able to get in here as fast as you could in case one of the residents attacked.”
He arched a single aristocratic brow. “Residents?”
She shuddered. “I’m pretty sure there’s like a possum or something moving over there. Or maybe it’s the giant scorpions. I don’t actually think we have a ton of those around here.”
“Don’t joke right now. I want to know what you’re going to do. I want to know if you’re going to run.” He looked so serious she had to sigh.
She’d been lying to herself all along, and having made the decision to leave, she just couldn’t do it another second. She wanted to know what it meant to be his, even if it was only for a day or two. “I’m going to obey my Master.”
His eyes flared, and she could have sworn his slacks tented in a heartbeat. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he really did want her. “Chelsea?”
She hoped he still wanted her after he’d seen her scars. She shook her head. “I’m tired of fighting this, but you should know that I’m also scared shitless of the entire sex act.”
“We’re not having sex.”
“So you’re taking a Clintonian view of the act?”
It was his turn to sigh. “No cock until you give me what I want.”
He was a little arrogant. It was one of the things that kind of got her hot about him. “And what is that?”
“I want you to love me.”
“I can’t. I don’t have that in me.” She wanted to. She wanted nothing more than to open herself and love him, but that part of her heart had been burned away. She couldn’t love him and even if she was capable, she wouldn’t let herself because she was bad for everyone. The best gift she could give him was to leave and let him be free of this weird, painful cycle they were in.
“You have no idea what you could do if you would try.” His eyes were intent on hers, staring as though he could impart his will.
The trouble was she wasn’t sure she even wanted to try. She’d tried before and it had been a disaster. She’d tried to be good and it never worked out. “I think I know myself better than you think.”
“I think you don’t know yourself at all, but god, Chelsea, I’m sick of arguing with you. Kiss me again. I don’t get mad at you when you kiss me.”
And that was their problem. The only times they weren’t arguing or bickering at each other were when they were playing. Kissing Simon had been the most peaceful place she’d ever found. Likely would ever find.
She didn’t hesitate. She wanted these moments with him. She went on her toes in that horrific bathroom and forgot about the rodents and the mold and the prostitutes next door and let her lips find his. Warmth immediately flooded her system, and her skin tingled in a way it never had before.
“Why are you afraid?”
She stiffened immediately. She never should have told him.
His hands found her head, softly smoothing her hair back. “Don’t. Don’t pull away from me. Talk to me. Tell me what the trouble is. We signed a contract and that means your troubles are my troubles. I want to help you, Chelsea.”