A heaviness settled behind my eyes, and I blinked back tears.
His masculinity and the violence evidenced on his body should have terrified me, but for reasons my tired mind could not understand, they only made him more real.
The eyes that held mine were shockingly vulnerable. “Most of it happened when I was a boy. Before my brother found me. The scars grew with me—they look worse than they are.” He handed me a T-shirt. “If you want to change. The bathroom is right next to the bedroom. I’ll carry his crib in. Come through when you’ve done.”
“I can sleep here.” The couch was softer than the bed I’d had back at Sanctuary. Sleeping on it wouldn’t be a hardship, although it wasn’t quite long enough. Over the years, I’d slept on a lot worse.
“Not happening,” he said, tone brokering no argument. “I let you sleep on the couch tonight, you’ll want to sleep on the couch tomorrow. And before we know it, you’ll be sleeping there all the time. You sleep in my bed.”
My stomach dipped. He was right, damn it. We both knew he was right.
“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Don’t make me take that privilege away. You have five minutes before I expect you to join me.”
With those final words, he collected the crib and carried it and Adam into the bedroom.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ava
ONCE BLAINE LEFT, I gathered up my scattered clothes and returned to my room to clean myself up.
I understood that he was expecting me in his bed from now on, but for reasons my tired brain couldn’t unpick, sharing his shower felt like a step too far.
Having showered, I stared without joy at the dirty clothes I’d worn for two straight days.
I spent a few minutes wrestling with indecision. If today was anything like yesterday, he’d be gone for many hours. He’d mentioned something about getting clothes for me while he was unwrapping me last night. I could manage another day—I’d managed three days on the streets.
But I didn’t put them on and instead returned to his room.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the closet door. My rummaging uncovered a pair of boxer-briefs and a T-shirt that were soft and clean. I’d shirked at using Blaine’s shower, and now here I was slipping into his underwear.
A place this fancy had to have a washer. With luck, I could wash my clothes and have them back on before he knew. His closet was palatial, I’d never seen one person harbor so many clothes, and I doubted he’d miss what I’d taken.
Ignoring how intimate it felt having his clothes around me, I went in search of a laundry.
I found a state of the art washer and dryer that looked barely used. I was thrown back to the time before the collapse when such equipment was commonplace. At Sanctuary, we’d had a couple of old top-loaders that had been pilfered along the way. They were simple technology and easy to repair when parts broke down, as they invariably did over time.
Putting my clothes inside and hitting the button… and seeing it fill with water and start to wash, was an unexpectedly surreal experience.
Who was this man?
When he’d picked me up on the rooftop, I’d assumed he was a soldier. I still thought he was a soldier, but I also thought he was something more.
As I stared at the churning washer, my hands trembled. I tried to squash the memory of him rolling above me, the sweet ache as his cock filled me deep inside. My stomach turned over, and I drew a ragged breath.
I was still sore and tender; I wasn’t used to having a man there and was confident he was packing more than average below the belt. The fact he’d had lube ready said he anticipated needing a little help. It brought unexpected questions as to my place here with him.
Clearly, I wasn’t the only person he’d been intimate with in that bed.
I headed back to the lounge area as fresh worries hit me. An owner didn’t need to explain himself. Didn’t need to be monogamous before, after, or during the time he was an owner. I could feel the stickiness from where his cum lingered despite my best attempts to clean my sore pussy up.
He hadn’t used a condom.
I wasn’t on birth control.
I told myself that anyone who’d been clearly enhanced—and further was important enough to live in this home—wouldn’t have a disease. He might even have had the birth control implant.
He might also want to get me pregnant.
I rubbed at my temples—just another thing to worry about like there wasn’t already a queue.
On top of all this was the simmering guilt that I hadn’t hated any of it.
I needed to focus.
I needed to not make this more complicated than it was.
He was my owner now. One day at a time, that was as far as I should think.
The views from the lounge window reminded me that I was in a new prison. I rarely thought about my old life and my parents. But my new situation had stirred memories up. My mother, and that monster I could not bear to call a relative even though he was.
I needed a distraction.
Yesterday, I’d taken care not to touch anything. Given his comments about the security alerts on the door and the sophisticated weapons storage, there might be other security within the apartment, perhaps even cameras.
The day passed slowly. I occupied myself by tidying up and making the beds.
An empty whiskey bottle lay on the couch, which explained the alcohol I’d smelled on him last night. It was mundane, but it was something to do. The place had looked super clean when I arrived… was it only two days ago? He’d mentioned someone coming around and stocking the food—I wasn’t sure I was ready to meet someone new yet.
An old electric reader rested on the coffee table, but it contained only books on military strategy. Pertinent given the environment we lived in, but not conducive to distraction.
The washer finished, and I put my clothes in the dryer.
My thoughts could not be contained; they drifted relentlessly back to the people of Sanctuary. I didn’t want to think about what I had shared with Blaine, it took center stage nevertheless.
I wondered where he was and what he was doing.
Whether he would return, bruised and battered.
Whether he would take me straight to bed.
These troubled thoughts led to cycles of despair. I was a leaf floating on a river subject to currents beyond my control.
Alone.
Isolated.
Would I go insane in my new luxury confinement?
My boredom gave way to an idle investigation of my surroundings. The main living space was functional but cold; nothing here could be implied to be personal in any way. I found an office of sorts with a small desk and a computer. It was off, and I wasn’t brave enough to try switching it on.
My rambling returned me to his bedroom. Earlier, I’d opened the heavy drapes to reveal the depressive cityscape. Smoke rose in the distance from several sources, and as I watched, another plume made its debut.
Fresh troubles were brewing down there.
Another datapad rested on the nightstand. This one was print protected, which immediately piqued my interest. It was possible to get around it, not easy certainly, but possible with enough patience and time.
Something I had in abundance.
The last time I’d resorted to such underhand work was when a Sanctuary member took off. He’d left behind a computer. Jodi had ordered me to hack it. I managed it after a few days—my teenage years had yielded some interesting skills.