15

Portia
I wake to a violent pounding in my head. I groan, turn over, burying my face in the pillow, the unfamiliar feel of it – mine is softer.
And mine doesn’t smell like him. My eyelids fly open and bright sunlight makes my head hurt worse.
This is the second day now I’m waking with a headache. This one I did to myself.
Whiskey.
Too much of it.
It takes me a long minute to get up the courage to look behind me. But when I do, I find the bed empty and realize what that sound is. The shower.
He did sleep here, I realize. I still see the indentation from his head on the pillow and when I reach to touch it tentatively, it’s still warm.
I wanted this, right? To be passed out when he touched me? So, I wouldn’t remember it.
What do I remember? Not much.
Lifting the comforter, I peer underneath, surprised to find I’m still wearing his clothes.
The tie is gone, and the pants are down around my ankles, but I don’t feel anything. I would feel it if he’d touched me. I’ve had sex before. I know how much it hurts.
No. That wasn’t sex, I guess. That was me being fucked in every sense of the word.
Nausea at the memory almost makes me forget about my headache. I manage to shove it away though. I’ve gotten better at that but I’m still not quite there. Not to the point of not feeling anything when I remember that dreadful night. I wish I could forget it. Have the memories wiped clean. Out of my mind for good.
So maybe Callahan didn’t fuck me while I was out.
I reach down and touch myself. It would be sticky or at least the blood would have crusted. Men leave a mess. But I feel nothing.
Nothing but dryness.
The bathroom door opens, snagging my attention.
“Morning” he says when he sees me.
I draw the covers up and sit up a little, scratching my head, trying to pat down my hair. I can be a pretty wild sleeper. I know what I look like first thing in the morning. And it’s not pretty.
Not that I want to be pretty for him.
“How’s your head?” he asks, adjusting the tuck of the towel at his hips, drawing my eye to how low slung it is. To the V of his belly. The line of dark hair that goes from his navel to disappear beneath the towel.
My face heats up and I open my mouth to speak but find its gone dry. I clear my throat. It’s fine.” I really want to brush my teeth.
“I’m sure,” he says with a grin and gestures to the nightstand.
“That’s not expired. And you’ll want to drink all of that water.”
I look over, see the container of aspirin and the big bottle of water.
“Did you..” I stop.
He raises an eyebrow. “Did I what?” He opens a drawer at the dresser to take out a pair of briefs. He drops the towel.
“Can you at least warn me?” It takes me a split second to avert my gaze but it’s too late. He sees. He grins. “Too much for you, Little Kitten?”
Little Kitten.
Give Fury a little whiskey and she turns into a little kitten.
I make myself meet his gaze. “I’ve seen bigger and better,” I lie with a straight face.
“I doubt that.” He chuckles and walks into the closet to return a moment later, zipping up a pair of slacks. “And I’ve just figured out how to tell when you’re lying.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Your voice gets higher.”
“Fuck you.”
“Well, that was the plan, but you passed out.”
So, that confirms that we didn’t fuck, right? I turn my attention to the aspirin, busying myself twisting the lid as I remember that my pants were around my ankles. “Why were my pants off then?”
“Probably because they’re about five sizes too big. I took the tie you knotted around your middle off, but I didn’t touch you otherwise.”
“Oh.”
He walks over, takes the bottle from me and twists the lid off easily. “Child lock.”
“Ha-ha.”
“By the way, you snore.”
God, did I? How embarrassing.
“Everyone snores,” I say to deflect.
He disappears into the closet once again and this time when he returns, he’s pulling on a shirt. I remember that part of the night. The muscle. The scars. Those tattoos.
The lines through my brother’s names. Nathan’s name still line-less.
“Why is my name not on your list?”
“You’re a woman. Barely.”
“I’m twenty-two and that’s sexist.”
“You’d prefer me to add you to my reaper’s list?”
“Reaper’s list?”
“Grim reaper. I will steal the life of everyone unfortunate enough to have their name inked on my skin.”
“Well, in that case my cousin’s doesn’t belong there. He had no hand in the attack and you know it.”
“I know no such thing. I have a meeting. You’ll stay on the island.” He tucks the shirt into his pants then wraps a tie around his neck.
“Are you going to cross another name off?”
He just gives me a quick grin.
“Where’s my uncle? Is he here?” I ask.
“Heathcliff? Fuck no. After you’ve eaten, Lenore will make a plate of exactly the amount of food you eat for your brother and you can deliver it to him.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Wait. Why do you care how much I eat?”
“Because I don’t want to break you in half when I – ”
“You know what? Never mind. I get it. Can I visit with Nathan or is it really just deliver his plate and leave?”
“Five minutes.” He pulls on his jacket. “Do I need to put bars on the windows?”
“What?” I ask, puzzled, but then remember how I told him I’d rather throw myself out the window than have to fuck Fernando Mancini.
“I don’t know, is Fernando Mancini here?”
He chuckles. “Don’t go snooping where you don’t belong. You can help Lenore in the kitchen if you get bored and you’ll stay indoors.”
“What about clothes?”
He gestures to the chair where a dress is folded over the back.
“Anything else?” he asks as he pulls his jacket on, making it hard to look away from him as muscle stretches the material.
I shake my head. What the hell is wrong with me?
He comes over to me and I tug the blankets higher. With a hand beneath my chin, he tilts my face upward. “Tonight, we’ll figure out if you’ll be useful to me.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’d better be useful.”
“You mean I’d better not pass out so you can feel better about taking something that I don’t give?” I don’t know why I say it because in my heart, I know he won’t do that. He would have already done it if he were that kind of man.
He snorts, eyes growing darker looking like a midnight sky. “Careful, Little Kitten.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It fits. I was wrong,”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not Fury. You’re just a harmless Little Kitten.”
I tug my face out of his grasp, but he grips it again, this time tighter.
“Let go of me. Don’t ever touch me.” I close my hands around his forearm which feels like a steel bar.
“Did I touch you last night?”
“You’re hurting me.”
“Or did I take care of you when you needed to be taken care of?”
When I don’t answer, he presses the back of my head against the headboard. At least it’s soft.
“Answer me.”
“I don’t need you.”
“Answer me. Did I hurt you? Did I take what I wanted with no regard for you?”
I stare up at him and he stares down at me.
But then he cocks his head to the side. “Or are you not sure? Can’t you remember?”
“I thought I was wrong about you, Callahan. I thought you were nice.”
He laughs at that. At me. And I hear how naive I sound, how ridiculous and stupid.
“I’m not nice, Little Kitten. I’m nowhere near nice.” He studies me, softens his grip then runs his knuckles over the curve of my neck. He tickles my collarbone and I wonder if he can see how hard my heart is beating in my pulse. He lets his gaze fall to my mouth then back
up.
“Or are you disappointed that I didn’t do it? Were you hoping to get fucked? Wanting it?”
“Fuck you.” I try to move away but he captures my arm to stop me.
“I see how you look at me. Would it make you feel better about yourself if I took it?”
“That’s not… Respectfully, shut up!”
“Then you could say it wasn’t your choice. That’s how it was with your brothers, right? The wedding? Not your choice? Your little hunger strike all you could actually do instead of standing up for yourself, instead of fighting. You say you’d have thrown yourself out the window rather than fuck Fernando but maybe that’s a lie.”
I dig my nails into his skin. “Let go!”
“I’ll let go when I’m ready to let go,”
“I hate you!”
“Is it a lie? Tell me.”
“Let me go, you brute!” I reach my hands to his face wanting to scratch him again, but he takes my wrists and
flips me over onto my belly. He leans his weight over me, So I feel him at my back. Feel how much bigger he is than me. How much stronger.
“Don’t fucking do that ever again or you shall face dire consequences.”
“Then let me go!”
“Tell me. Is it a lie?”
“Stop.” I squirm beneath him, fighting back tears. “Please. Oh God.”
“Or is it that you just don’t hate him enough. And if that’s the case, you don’t hate him enough, then you are my enemy, Portia Esmeralda,”
“I’m not weak. I did the only thing I could. You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened. What – ” my voice breaks. I turn my face into the bed. I hate this. Hate that it all still makes me feel like this. That it has so much power over me still.
He draws back and suddenly I’m spun over onto my back. He studies me, watches my eyes, a momentary softening in his. But then it’s gone and he’s all hard edges again. A high wall erected with bricks of hate laid one on top of another.
“You’ll apologize to me tonight. First thing. You will get on your knees and you will apologize for what you accused me of. Am I clear?”
“Or you’ll make my cousin pay. That’s what they did too, and it worked. Kept me in line. It’s what you’re going to do too, isn’t it? You’re just like them.”
His hand is around my throat in an instant. Instinct kicks in and I claw at his forearm. He’s too strong though and if he squeezes any harder, I’m dead.
“No, Little Kitten. I’m nothing like them,” he says through his teeth, eyes dark with rage. “I’m much worse. And I’ll make you pay.”