Aiden knows how I’m feeling; he’s been there when I’ve had bad nights, he knows how fucked up my head can get. They are my family, but they aren’t just worried about me now, they’re worried about Brooklyn, too. Even though I know they know I would never hurt her, I understand their worry; I’ve kidnapped a woman – a really young woman - and, right now, I’ve not done anything to make sure she is healthy. That needs to change.
I’m not the monster Brooklyn thinks I am. I’m not the Beast. But I will admit, I am the snake that will get what he wants.
“Two salads, and drinks,” Milo points to the tray.
I knock on the door: no answer. I have to balance the tray on my left hand, to open the door; it becomes unsteady, and I try to remember the last time I carried a tray.
Brooklyn is lying on the floor looking up at the ceiling, she turns her head a little as she watches me walking over to the small, round, table in the corner of the room.
“I thought we could have lunch,” I tell her as I place the tray on the table.
“I’m not hungry,” she bites back.
I lick my lips, as the thought of wanting to spank her crosses my mind; but I’m keeping that to myself - for now.
I’m not a man that likes a simple vanilla fuck; when you own a club like this, you try new things- some you enjoy, and some you never try again. Lucy knew what, and how, I liked it; but I have to wait to show Brooklyn that side of me. Right now, I can't do that. I can’t show her how hard I want to fuck her, how I want to tie her up and worship every inch of her body. I've not been with, or looked at, a girl since Lucy.
"Well, I would like you to eat," I tell her as I pull out a chair for her to sit down.
Brooklyn sits up on the floor and looks over her shoulder at me; her brown hair is swept over one shoulder. She narrows her green eyes, and a wrinkle appears between her brows. She purses her lips slightly. If looks could kill, I’m sure I would be dead now. Briefly, I wonder if that wouldn’t be such a bad idea; perhaps, even, it might be the solution I’ve been looking for all this time: I’d be with Lucy, and Brooklyn could live her life, free, happy, and a long way away from me. But Lucy’s heart would still be missing; and I shake the thought out of my head, knowing that’s not something I can exist without, in any realm or state of being. I feel like my mind is falling apart, but I keep myself together, not letting Brooklyn see how her stare affects me.
I stand with my hand on the chair and wait for her to move. If she thinks I'm going to back down, she may as well learn now that I don't.
She cusses as she stands up and walks over to the table, but she pulls out the other chair and sits down. I press my lips together as I smile. She’s a fighter, I like that.
I look at her for a moment. “Swear words shouldn’t come out of your mouth,” I say. Someone as beautiful as her, shouldn’t be saying such ugly words. She looks up from her plate, her big, beautiful eyes stare at me, and I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t; and I don’t reply, either.
Taking the tray off the table, I place it on the floor. I watch her, waiting for her to lift the fork and eat. She begins to bite her bottom lip as I stare at her; as she continues to eat her lunch, a small smile tugs on her lips, and I wonder if she’s enjoying satisfying her hunger.
"How about you bite into the salad, and I bite your lip?" That gets her attention, but I ignore what I've said, knowing I shouldn't have said it; she is going to think that I’m fucking crazy.
As much as I want to kiss her again, the thought of our kiss this morning already has me on the edge of a cliff which I can barely hang on to; one more kiss from Brooklyn, and I will lose control and fall off. I can't force that, can I?
I watch as she continues to eat her lunch and I smile, happy that she’s continuing with her meal.
“Do you have your medication?” She snaps her head up to look at me and holds her fork mid-way to her mouth.
“How do you know about that?”
"I know a lot about you, Brooklyn. Do you need more medication?" I ask.
I don't want to tell her about Lucy for two reasons: one, she will think that I'm a psycho, and two, I don't want to confuse her.
Being told the heart beating in your chest belongs to me, that it’s the one I love, that I loved the woman it belonged to, and that I refuse to relinquish it, that I just can’t, must be overwhelming.
“Yes,” she whispers.
The tone of her voice tells me she is still scared of me; I mean, I can’t blame her -I’ve not given her any reason not to be, and now I’ve just told her I know a lot more about her than she thought can’t have helped. Of course, she’s going to be scared. She bows her head down so I can't see her face anymore; but she is eating, and I will take that.
“I’ll get it for you.”
There’s nothing but silence between us once more. Lucy and I could sit for hours and hours talking about everything; from the very first day, there were never any awkward silences between us. It was always laughing, talking, or sex. I don’t even know how to have a simple conversation with Brooklyn. I’m nervous about saying the wrong thing to her; I’m scared of saying the right thing to her, to tell her the truth about why she is here, and risk her hating me. For the first time in my life, I don’t know how to talk to someone.
“Do you need any more clothes?” I ask, trying hard to break through the silence between us. I got her a few items of clothing already but, if she has more stuff she likes, then maybe it would make her a little more comfortable to be here.
There are only two things I want to do in silence; either giving head, or full-on fucking; and I don't think fucking her is a good idea.
I lean back and admire her beauty for a moment, while it seems she’s thinking about how to answer my question. She looks like a shy girl, a girl who doesn’t know how to be proud of herself, but she should be - especially after everything she’s been through. But then, I think, how would anyone know they’re beautiful if they’ve spent most of their life in a hospital? I bet no one ever told her she was beautiful, cute, or how breath-taking her eyes are. As I continue studying her face, I begin to wonder: has she been kissed? Has anyone fucked her?
I shake the thoughts out of my head and focus back on her skin; the tip of the scar peeking through the top of her dress looks fragile. A touch in the wrong way and she could bruise again really easy. I don’t want to add any more damage to her skin; I can already see the handprint bruises Aiden left when he grabbed her. Again, I see she is a fighter. I wonder how much she’d bruise if I spanked her.
“I don’t have any money,” she finally looks up to face me, and all I can see are her lips.
Why does she think that I brought her here for her money? Does it look like I need her money? I’ve not once asked her for money, I’ve not mentioned money to her, so why does she think that’s what I want from her? As I finally bring my eyes to meet hers, I can’t help but wonder what she is thinking.
For all I know, all she wants to know is if she’s going to be able to leave, soon. If she would be willing to look deep inside me, look past the monster, the only thing she would see is a broken man desperately trying to fix his broken pieces, a man that only wants to love the heart that loves him, to have a woman love him even with all the haunted nights and the scars that prey on him. A man who just wants to be at peace with someone, with himself.