Demon Disgrace (Resurrection Chronicles Book 8) Page 14

  Since Katie and I had already cleaned these houses out of food, I knew I needed to go farther. It took hours to cross the fields and find another house. My adrenaline sang through my veins the entire time I crouched in the bushes and watched the place.

  The dream fragmented, showing me bits of what had happened. Me walking into that quiet house. The scratching noise coming from a back room. Me blocking that door. Me cleaning out the cupboards and packing food in a child-sized backpack.

  The dream solidified again, settling on the moment where I was back in the messy kitchen of the house in the abandoned subdivision.

  I opened a can of fruit and drank the juice. My stomach cramped and gurgled. I knew I needed to pace myself and set the can down. My hand shook as I wiped the juice from my mouth. I was tired. So tired. I glanced at the fading light in the window. I hated nights. Especially without Katie there. My throat closed, and I forced the thought away. But I couldn’t escape my guilt and shame. It carved a hole in my middle every moment of every day.

  I sniffled and wiped at my face again as I walked forward.

  I could feel my fear build and tried to stop moving. My dream-self didn’t listen.

  Katie was standing in the middle of the room, her back to me. Her shirt was ripped and dirty and marked with blood. So much blood. I could see the bite marks covering her skin. I knew what she was even as hope bloomed in my chest.

  “Katie?” I whispered.

  She slowly turned, her milky eyes locking on me as her mouth opened and closed.

  A sob escaped me.

  She started forward.

  “Forgive me,” I rasped a moment before I plunged the knife I still gripped into her chest. She didn’t die. Her hands locked around my biceps, and she lunged forward, mouth open.

  I jerked the knife free and stabbed it right into her gaping maw.

  She dropped to the floor, the blade pulling free as she fell. She didn’t move.

  I dropped the knife and stared at my blood-stained hands. Infected blood. My sister’s blood.

  I’d killed my sister. She’d come back for me, and I’d killed her instead of joining her like I should have the first time.

  A tear splashed onto the center of my right palm, cleaning away the red.

  I would never be clean again.

  The pain of what I’d done ripped through me.

  I wailed, and the dream shifted.

  My mom hugged me, her hand running over my hair.

  “The heartache will fade.”

  I remembered the moment. It was after my first boyfriend, ever, had dumped me in middle school. I’d been about the same age as Katie had been when she’d died.

  “It will never fade,” I said between sobs.

  The dream drifted away, and I woke with wet sheets sticking to my face. My guilt would never fade, and neither would the pain of killing my sister.

  Sobbing and shaking, it took a moment to realize the feeling of the hand on my head hadn’t faded. It was real and continued to stroke over my hair. I turned toward it, desperate for the comfort it offered, and found Merdon leaning forward in his chair. He had crossed the distance with just his hand, to comfort me.

  Our eyes met. His were missing the typical judgmental disapproval. He didn’t speak. His gaze held mine steadily as his fingers moved again, lightly smoothing over my hair.

  Everything hurt. My body. My thoughts. My heart and my soul. It all ached for what I’d suffered and what I’d done to my sister. I wanted it to stop. I needed it to stop. And, his gentle touch was slowly soothing away the worst of the edges.

  I didn’t question what I was doing when I pulled back the covers. I didn’t stop to think what might happen when I crawled from bed and into his lap. All I knew was that I desperately needed to stop hurting.

  He didn’t touch me for a moment as I settled my weight against his hard chest. It rose and fell in a slow rhythm that further calmed me. I blinked, feeling the wetness of my lashes on my cheeks as my sobbing slowed and my breathing hitched.

  His hand found my head again and continued its slow, stroking path over my hair.

  I knew I should tell him to stop. This kind of touching always led to some type of emotional attachment for them. Except, with Merdon, it might not. He was Emily’s problem. That meant I could let him keep petting my hair.

  A shaky exhale escaped me.

  His hand paused like the sound had surprised him. I leaned my cheek more firmly against his pectoral, and he resumed his comforting caress.

  He didn’t seem like the same person in the dark. He actually seemed…nice. I didn’t let myself think about how I might leverage this change to my advantage. I was still too raw for that and wasn’t willing to sacrifice what he was currently giving me.

  His hand moved from my hair to my back. The pressure and rhythm remained the same, but the new path created an awareness that hadn’t been there a moment ago. The opportunity to feel something other than pain compelled me to lift my head.

  His hand stilled as our gazes met. My focus shifted to his mouth.

  Could I? There were so many reasons not to. Emily. The potential that Merdon’s infatuation might inadvertently shift to me. Being stuck in this room even longer. But the reason to kiss him was more compelling.

  What wouldn’t I do not to think or hurt for a few minutes? What haven’t I already tried?

  I licked my lips and slowly closed the distance.

  At the last second, he turned his head.

  His rejection stung for a brief moment. Then he spoke.

  “You can’t use me to numb your pain, Hannah. It won’t work.”

  “How will we know if I don’t try?”

  He looked me in the eye, his expression hardening into that same judgmental one that grated on my last nerve.

  “I said no.”

  “You know what? Screw you, Merdon. You’re an idiot for passing up an opportunity with a woman. You thought your past lives empty? This one will be filled with days watching all your brothers pair up while you remain alone. You know why? Because you’re an asshole, and women are smart enough to avoid that kind of man.”

  During my rant, I’d pushed off of his lap. Now, I headed to the bed.

  He caught me by the arm and spun me around.

  “And no one will ever want you because you’re mean,” he growled at me.

  My temper snapped. I balled up my fist and swung at him.

  He dodged, ducking low. I squawked when his shoulder bumped my middle and he stood. I knew this move. Kicking in an effort to get free, I beat on his back.

  “I don’t need a shower, you fucking son of a—”

  His hand landed on the same damn, abused butt cheek as last time. I squealed and bucked to get off his shoulder.

  “Stop moving or you’ll hit your head.”

  “Fuck you, Merdon!”

  He shifted my weight, and I felt us going down. I paused, moving to push the hair out of my face and look around.

  We were out of my room and descending the steps.

  “Where are we going?”

  He didn’t answer. I twisted around, looking for Emily, but the house was dark. There was no way she could have slept through me yelling. I arched my back to look up the stairs, before he turned the corner, and saw her door was still shut.

  I opened my mouth to yell to her, but what could I say? She’d already shown she wasn’t going to help me.

  Merdon turned again, heading for the basement stairs. A spike of foreboding speared me. Why was he taking me there?

  Because it will be quieter, my thoughts whispered.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  He kept walking.

  “Take me back to my room.”

  He reached for the door, and I started squirming in earnest.

  Merdon didn’t follow the rules. He shoved me into the shower, force-fed me, and smacked my butt. He was rough and didn’t care that it hurt me. Whatever he planned to do to me in the basement wouldn’t be goo
d.

  He jogged down the basement stairs and flicked on the lights. Then, he tossed me to the ground like a bag of dirty laundry.

  Stunned, I looked up at him, my heart hammering.

  “Try to hit me again,” he said, standing over me.

  It felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head.

  “No, thank you,” I said quickly. I might want to hurt him, but I didn’t want him to pop my head off like I was an infected.

  “Stand up, Hannah. Now.”

  I scrambled to my feet, only then noticing they weren’t on the cold cement floor. Under them were black foam interlocking squares. Firm yet cushioned. My gaze flicked around the room, noting other changes. The boxes were all moved against the walls, perfectly stacked to block all the windows—no witnesses—and the gym equipment was unburied.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “No muscles and slow here,” he tapped his head.

  I almost flipped him off, but I wasn’t sure what was going on. Was he mad? Did he bring me down here to torture me in some new way?

  He reached out, quick as lightning, and tapped my arm in a way that made it swing loosely at my side.

  He chuckled.

  “No muscle,” he repeated.

  I didn’t react. I watched him as he circled me. He was stalking me like I was some type of prey. I only wished I knew why. His focus was freaking me out.

  Lightning fast, he rushed me, and I found myself on my back again.

  “Where is your fight now, Hannah? Will you give up? Will you let me do whatever I want?”

  I swallowed hard. What was the right answer? What was he thinking?

  In a blink, I found myself face down on the mat. One of his big hands held my thigh. My eyes went wide in understanding a moment before his other hand came down on the same damn butt cheek. I couldn’t even squeal, it hurt so much.

  “Does your backside sting?” he whispered in my ear.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rage fueled my so-called weak muscles. I twisted out of Merdon’s hold and scrambled to my feet.

  With a feral smile, he bared his teeth.

  “Make me pay, Hannah,” he goaded.

  I flew at him. My fists bombarded his chest for a fleeting moment before I was on my back again. The stunned second it took for that to register was all he needed to flip me over. I swore, knowing what he meant to do, and tried to scramble away. But, I wasn’t fast enough to avoid his iron hand.

  The crack echoed in the basement.

  Snarling, I struggled to my feet. This time, I didn’t fly at him. We circled each other. When he lunged for me, I tried to swivel out of the way. Again, I wasn’t fast enough. I was mean, though, just like he said. When he had me on my back, I bit him.

  He retreated with a grunt, and I shot to my feet.

  Now that I understood his game, I fought hard to stay off my back. When he did manage to get me there, I did everything I could to avoid being flipped to my stomach. Sometimes, I wasn’t fast enough or strong enough or smart enough, and my ass felt the pain of that failure. Each smack refueled my rage and gave me more will to not end up on the floor.

  We went on like this until my limbs shook with effort and sweat coated my skin.

  I landed on my back, yet again, not even sure what I’d done wrong to get there, and quickly rolled to escape his grasp. It was a move I’d used before to avoid a spank and regain my footing. This time, everything felt slower, and when I tried to stand, my legs gave out. I tried once more and collapsed to my knees, panting.

  “Enough,” Merdon said.

  I looked up. He wasn’t crouched, ready to attack, but standing with his legs braced and arms crossed as he studied me. The bastard wasn’t even winded.

  “Go upstairs and shower.”

  My gaze went to the stairs, and my legs wanted to weep. I couldn’t even stand; how in the hell was I going to manage two flights of steps?

  “Or do you want me to carry you?”

  I focused on Merdon. Everything ached, and I was exhausted beyond reason. I’d like nothing more than to be carried upstairs, but I knew his offers were always double-edged. There was no way I was in any condition to take him up on another challenge. I was certain that my ass was hot enough from all of his spankings to heat a living room in the Arctic.

  “I’ll walk,” I managed.

  It took two tries to get to my feet. He watched impassively, without making any offer to help as I shuffled forward. I wasn’t sure my legs would handle the stairs. My thighs threatened mutiny after the third step, and I had to grip the railing like a lifeline as I continued to ascend.

  He followed me quietly, his silence making me as nervous as his proximity to my backside. There wasn’t much I could do about the latter, and he and I weren’t so good at the conversation thing.

  The sight of my bed almost made me weep. I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers, but I knew what would happen if I tried to ignore Merdon’s order to shower. My clothes stuck to my skin from all the sweating I’d done, and I could smell myself. It wasn’t pretty.

  I grabbed another clean outfit from the closet and shuffled toward the bathroom. It wasn’t until I was in there that I realized I was alone. I shut the door, stripped, and piled my hair on top of my head. Hopefully, he wouldn’t throw a fit about not washing that, too. It was a little sweaty, but I didn’t think I’d be able to hold my arms above my head long enough to do any good.

  Turning away from the mirror, I checked my backside. My mouth dropped open at the perfect outline of a gigantic, glowing red handprint. Merdon had marked me on purpose, smacking me in the exact same spot every time. I mentally called him several names as I climbed into the shower, too smart to say them aloud and antagonize him.

  The soap job was rushed, so I put on deodorant as a precaution then dressed.

  Merdon was sitting in the chair beside the bed again when I reemerged. I could feel his eyes on me as I hobbled across the room but refused to acknowledge him. He was a sadist, and all I wanted was sleep.

  He didn’t try to stop me as I slipped under the covers with a sigh. I closed my eyes, hoping this wasn’t some trick and I wouldn’t find myself on my stomach in two seconds.

  “You’ve slept enough. Get out of bed.”

  Too fogged by sleep to think clearly, I ignored the warning and burrowed deeper.

  A second later, the mattress tilted under me, and I tumbled from the bed to the floor. I landed on my side, tangled in the blankets that had fallen with me.

  Lifting my head, I glared up at Merdon as he put the mattress back onto the frame.

  “Are you getting up and coming downstairs on your own, or do you need help?”

  I snarled at him. He showed me his teeth.

  “You have five minutes.”

  He left the room.

  Bastard.

  In the middle of my angry thoughts, I realized what he’d finally given me. This was my chance to escape. I struggled free of the blankets and looked around the room. My windows were still nailed shut. I could break them, but I’d never be fast enough; I’d only end up sleeping in a freezing room tonight. I noted the early morning light before my gaze shifted to the hall.

  Emily’s room wasn’t over the porch, but I could easily drop from the window to the ground without breaking anything. Maybe? I chewed my lip in indecision before I hurried to my dresser and pulled on two pairs of socks.

  I was running out of time.

  Before I finished, doubts began to eat at my urge to escape. Five minutes wasn’t much of a head start, and I’d leave footprints in the snow. He’d be on me before I reached the wall. And if he wasn’t? Then what? Did I really think some other fey would deliver me to Tenacity? I had to try, though, didn’t I? What he and Emily were doing was wrong. They couldn’t just keep me locked up like this.

  I crossed the hall, still trying to imagine what I’d do once I was on the ground. All the possibilities vanished the moment I tried the knob. Emily’s door
was locked. I stared at it in confusion. She never locked it.

  “Emily is not in her room,” Merdon said.

  I slowly turned my head and found him watching me from the bottom of the stairs.

  My stomach sank. Not only was hope of escape just a dream, I knew what waited for me if I walked down those stairs. I did not want to go to the basement with Merdon. Yet, what other choice did I have?

  “I hate you,” I whispered.

  “I know.”

  Resolutely, I started down the stairs. My legs weren’t okay. Last night’s exertions had to have damaged them in some way. That was the only explanation for the bone deep ache echoing in my thighs.

  Merdon silently watched me limp my way down to him. There was no pity in his gaze, and I knew he wouldn’t go any easier on me today because of my aches. I cursed my impulsive stupidity for doubling up on socks and not underwear and pants, and I couldn’t help but wonder if his handprint was still gracing my backside. If it wasn’t now, it would be before long.

  I reached the second to last step and stopped, unable to go farther because Merdon hadn’t moved. Even with the additional height of the steps, I had to tip my head to meet his gaze.

  “I hope the timer isn’t still running,” I said.

  He blinked at me.

  “For the five minutes,” I clarified. “It’s not fair if you block the way so I can’t meet the requirements.”

  “Do you find anything fair?” he asked.

  “Since the quakes? Never.”

  He grunted and stepped aside to let me pass. I hesitated, not trusting that it wasn’t some kind of trick, then cautiously moved forward with narrow-eyed suspicion. I hoped he didn’t think my hesitation was due to fear. It wasn’t. It was due to a healthy respect for his big hand and fast reflexes.

  When I veered to the basement stairs, he stopped me.

  “No. Breakfast first.”

  I wasn’t expecting that. I also wasn’t expecting to see Emily in the kitchen despite his warning that she wasn’t in her room.

  Frowning suspiciously, I glanced back at Merdon as I made my way to the kitchen island. If Emily was cooking, had he locked her door because he’d known I would try to use her windows? I didn’t want to think about the implication of him anticipating my actions when I was so clueless about his.