The Surrender: Falling In Part 16

Checkmate. Checkmate.

Lucian began to rock again and the pain subsided slightly. She let out a hard breath and his mouth kissed the corner of her lips. The more he pumped his hips forward the easier it became. Soon he was sliding in and out of her with ease. Pain fading, she slowly unclenched.

She realized she was holding his shoulders in a death grip and let her hands go lax. His hands found hers, but he didn't hold them. Rather, he wrapped his long fingers around her wrists and pressed them at her sides into the thick, cushiony bed. A touch of fear and helplessness surged through her, blurred by the unfamiliar presence of another person inside of her. Nothing was as she expected.

She forced her eyes open. His body arched over hers like a wave, building and receding. His eyes had gone completely dark and his thick lashes hung low. His muscles bunched as his body plowed into hers and his chest wore a glistening sheen of perspiration.

His hands released hers and he reached down to where their bodies connected. He touched her there and she cried out at the long-awaited pleasure.

"Yes, Evelyn, let me hear you."

His fingers nudged her flesh in fast concise movements. The effect was quick and intense, washing away a great deal of her confusion and fear. Her body tightened around him and he grunted, his hips pumping faster.

"Come for me," he whispered, and there was a sudden release.

Her s.e.x stuttered and spasmed around the part of him buried deep inside of her. She cried out as a wave broke over her, bathing her folds and easing his way. He probed faster. His fists gripped her thighs, pulling her into him as if he was not coming at her fast enough. The more he pushed into her, the longer the sensation lasted.

Slick and wet, together they fit, until finally he thrust hard and held himself buried deep inside of her. A guttural moan left his chest and his shoulders quivered. For the briefest second, she felt as though she was holding him and saw him as completely vulnerable. It was peculiar to see that flash of him so emotionally bared, unnatural and somehow secret. She blinked and breathed. That seemed the only function she had in the moment.

Lucian's shoulders rose and fell as he caught his breath. They were hot and sticky and covered in sweat. The silk gown had become like a tourniquet around her stomach that she needed to remove. Slowly, her body reconnected with her mind. Lucian's c.o.c.k was softening, and little by little the pressure inside of her eased.

Her muscles were sore, and the tender skin between her thighs felt abused and messy. She wanted to clean herself up. Briefly, her mind touched on the fact that she'd just given herself to this man because he bought her pretty things and held the promise of better things for her and Pearl. She refused to examine that thought while he was still inside of her.

It was pleasant for a time, Lucian and her. When he kissed her, she liked it. Scout liked the way he touched her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and when he made her body tighten and release . . . it was insane. s.e.x, however, the actual act of intercourse . . . that she could do without.

Her damp skin was cooling, and she shivered. Lucian sighed, and then he withdrew from her. Her insides felt plumbed. He kissed her lips quickly and then stood. The chill of his absence weighed over her skin, seeming to take on a life of its own.

The light from the master bath flipped on. A toilet flushed and the rush of running water sounded. So clinical, lacking any sense of intimacy she may have expected. Gingerly, she rolled to the side of the bed and sat up. Her limbs ached and her muscles weren't working right. Her arms awkwardly slid back through the straps of the gown, and she stood. Walking as if her pelvis had been stretched, she eventually made it to the hall. Scout inched her way to the powder room, ran cool water over a washcloth and cautiously cleaned her body.

When she returned to the master bedroom, Lucian was standing in front of the bed with his back toward her. She wasn't sure what people said after s.e.x, so she quietly walked over to the bed and began climbing onto the mattress. She froze when she saw the expression on his face.

His eyes blazed intensely and stared unblinking. His shoulders rippled with tension and his fist clenched until his knuckles were white. He was furious.

"Lucian?"

His gaze jerked to hers and he practically growled. "Are you hurt?"

Scout took quick inventory of her body. She was sore, but not hurt. She just needed to sleep and she'd probably feel better in the morning. "No, I'm fine-"

"Then what the h.e.l.l is that?" His finger shot out like a blade and pointed to a dark skid on the light satin sheets.

Oh my G.o.d!

Her mouth opened almost as wide as her eyes. Mortification choked her as she looked down at the evidence of her virginity smeared across his expensive sheets.

"I'll-I'll wash them." She quickly began ripping the sheets from the bed. Tears blurred her eyes and she was suddenly being jerked by her wrists in front of him.

"You were a f.u.c.king virgin?" The look of complete revulsion on his face when he said the word as if it were a curse crushed her.

She quickly rallied her dignity and got right in his face. "I was."

He released her arms so fast she practically stumbled backward. Through gritted teeth he growled, "How old are you?"

"What?"

"How old are you?" he roared. "You told me you were twenty-seven. I know that's bulls.h.i.t. Your paperwork said you were twenty-two. Is that a lie too?"

She stared at him, just stared.

"Answer me!"

She jumped then quietly answered, "I'm twenty-two years old."

He shut his eyes and gave a humorless laugh. "A twenty-two-year-old virgin?"

"It's true. So what? I'm an adult. You didn't rape me. What's the problem?" She was growing more self-protective by the minute.

"The problem is I don't believe you," he seethed. He was no longer shouting, but she preferred him yelling at her to the icy calm he spoke to her with now. Those whispered words seemed underscored with the creak of heavy walls slamming up between them. The s.p.a.ce flanked by them grew, though neither of them moved.

"Well, that's your problem then, because I'm telling you the truth."

"When's your birthday?" he snapped. When she didn't answer, he glared at her. "Well?"

"I don't know," she admitted pathetically. "I was born in the winter twenty-two years ago. I don't know what month." He suddenly ripped the top blanket off the bed and marched out of the room. "Where are you going?"

"I'm sleeping on the couch. You can have the guest room."

Scout didn't know how to cope with the unexpected pain accompanying this disappointment. He simply abandoned her there as though she was not worth the trouble. Her lip quivered and she blinked rapidly. She felt ashamed and used, but the worst feeling came from his admitted lack of trust.

This was never going to work. She was leaving tomorrow.

She didn't cry. There was no point. Her hands worked at removing the soiled linens as her mind replayed his words like some sort of loop of torture. She washed the sheets in the tub, never once letting a single tear fall.

Chapter 16.

Gone Scout left her makeup on the counter of the vanity, zipped her bag and crept out of the bedroom. Stopping at Lucian's desk, the first place she had met him, she wished she could leave him a note but figured it was for the best that she couldn't. Approaching the door, she turned and looked back at his sleeping face one last time. His black eyes were watching her.

"Sneaking out?"

Keep it simple. Keep it honest. "I have to go to work."

"I'll arrange for lunch to be sent up after your shift," he said, not bothering to sit up.

Scout nodded. "Thank you, Lucian." She turned and left.

Work dragged. Her schedule was incredibly light and she suspected Lucian had done something to make it that way. By noon she was dusting the same furniture in the common areas that she dusted that morning. When her shift was over she went to the bas.e.m.e.nt to get her bag and slipped out the back entrance of the hotel.

Paranoia that she was being followed hit her the minute she stepped into the sunlight. Her legs quickly propelled her forward for a few blocks. Blood pumped through her veins, which helped to warm her body, but after she'd traveled about a mile her face was flushed from the cold and her fingers were chilled and starting to chap. She shifted her bag and pulled out her hoodie. After the sweatshirt was over her uniform she continued on her way.

St. Christopher's wouldn't be opening its doors for at least five hours. She had a good idea of a few places Parker might be, but she didn't want to waste any time. She hadn't seen Pearl in days and her worry had become almost too much to bear.

"Hey!"

Her skin stiffened. Scout turned and saw Dugan coming after her. She pivoted and ran.

Her legs pumped hard over the pavement. Ripping around a corner, she ducked into an alley. Her heart raced and she waited, too afraid to peek behind her. Heavy footsteps fell and a flash of black leather ran by. Waiting a few seconds, looking to see Dugan running in the direction she had led him, Scout pulled up her hood and went the other way.

Her cheeks were frozen when she got to the tracks. Slipping under the open garage door, she moved quickly to the hall where she'd find Pearl. The mill smelled of burning leaves, and there were many more residents now that winter had fully arrived. Scout pa.s.sed a man tying off his arm as his companion pulled the end of a dirty needle over a battered spoon. She cringed and kept walking.

As she turned the corner into Pearl's hall, there was a soft flickering glow seeping from her door, and she was glad her mother had the sense to make herself a fire. She slowed her steps so as not to startle her. She turned the corner and found her hunched over a mirror sifting through a fresh batch of H with a razor.

When she heard her she turned, her weathered, emaciated face vicious. Pearl shot her arm holding the razor out, as if to ward off a thief, and cradled her supply with her other arm. Scout stilled by the door and gave her a moment to recognize her.

"Go way," she mumbled.

"Momma, it's me, Scout."

Pearl narrowed her eyes and glared at her. "You're too fat to be Scout. She just a lil' thing."

"Pearl, it's me." Scout stepped forward slowly and lowered herself to her knees. "See?" She pulled her drawing of them out of her bag. Pearl stilled and stared at it.

"Where you get tha'?" she slurred. It was obvious she was already high.

"It's us. I got it from the man who drew it. Do you remember?"

Her mother's brittle laugh was slow and then too enthusiastic. "Scout hated that hat."

She smiled. "Yes, I did."

Pearl's dirty fingers went back to separating her stash. Her movements were painfully slow and unsteady. Dried blood crusted with the filth already clogging the little canyons of wrinkles on her brown fingers. Scout looked to the corner and saw the soaps she'd brought her a few days ago.

Once her mother had her supply in order and tucked away on her person, she found a bowl in the pushcart. It was dirty, but would have to do. She reached into her bag for a washcloth and poured some rainwater Pearl had collected into the bowl.

She scooted as close as Pearl would let her and drew her attention. "You makin' som'in?"

"I'm going to help you wash your hands."

"My baby does that when she visits."

"Does she?" Scout's throat tightened.

She carefully bathed her mother's fingers, hands, and arms. Pearl chatted about a man she met by the water that Scout a.s.sumed was a figment of her imagination, and she also told Scout about how she was mad her daughter didn't visit anymore. She a.s.sured her mother that her daughter loved her and fought back her emotions. Life was quite unfair at times.

By the time she finished with Pearl's arms she was on her fourth bowl of water, and the little bar of soap was merely a sliver of black. Scout didn't want to use all Pearl's water, so she rinsed the cloth and washed her mother's face. Enough.

When she left, Pearl waved her away as if she were a stranger or a pesky stray dog. She didn't thank Scout and Scout didn't expect her to. Her mother had begun to nod out toward the end of her visit, and she promised herself she'd stay away, for her own good, for at least four days this time.

Looking into her mother's lifeless eyes and seeing not a speck of recognition was agony. She didn't know how many more visits like that she could take.

It was still light out when Scout arrived at St. Christopher's. There were cars in the parking lot of the old school, which was unusual, but not unheard of. The shelter had a board of trustees that kept it operating and dissuaded the township when they tried to close the shelter's doors permanently.

It was an ongoing battle for those who ran St. Christopher's to keep its doors open. Last winter had been a nightmare, never knowing if one day they'd return only to find the doors locked and the fancy billboard of a strip mall coming soon.

Seeing the cars there made her anxious. Winter was here. If they were going to shut the shelter down, they could at least wait until spring. She waited on the abandoned brick flowerbed beside the steps of the school. The cars parked along the dilapidated chain-link fence were all new and shiny. She was certain there was a meeting going on with the board.

Shivers transcended to a full-body seizure by the time the doors finally opened and the meeting let out. Scout cursed herself for not changing into her jeans before leaving the hotel, but her humiliation urged her to escape quickly and she hadn't been thinking. Already, the effects of living in the lap of luxury were affecting her common sense and making her forget the need for practicality. Curled into her sweatshirt, she tried to find a hidden pocket of body warmth. It crossed her mind that Lucian would be aware by now she wasn't coming back.

A few women bustled out of the building, followed by a man in an expensive trench coat with shiny leather shoes. He looked vaguely familiar. As he slowed, he removed his phone from his pocket and stood for a moment to press a few b.u.t.tons. That's when she recognized those piercing eyes. Slade.

s.h.i.t. She ducked her head so he wouldn't recognize her. Out of her peripheral she saw him walk away.

"Holy s.h.i.t! Scout! You're back."

G.o.dd.a.m.n it Parker!

Scout looked up and behind a smiling Parker stood Slade, staring at her through narrow blue eyes.

"Hey, Parker," she mumbled, standing up and walking quickly through the doors of the school.

"Where you going? Aren't we gonna eat? Scout, wait up . . ." He followed her into the shadowed hall of the school. "What's going on . . . ?" His question faded as he followed her gaze. "You know that guy?"

"Not really."

Slade stared into the shadows after them and then turned and climbed into his car. When he pulled away she breathed a huge sigh of relief. Turning to Parker, she smiled.

"So . . . looks like I'll be staying here again," she said with false cheer. "Let's eat."

Chapter 17.

Intruder Scout awoke with a start and her back protested against the hard tile floor. Something was going on. It took a moment for her sight to adjust to the dark shadowy room. Eyes wide, she studied the door of the gymnasium. Bodies lay out like guests of a morgue after a natural disaster, creating an obstacle course around her.

Unseen voices carried over the sound of bodies breathing. She listened. She couldn't make out the words being said, but she sensed the hostility of the situation.

"s.h.i.t."

Scout quickly untied the shoelace around her wrist. Her fingers fumbled over the knot. The voices grew louder, coming closer.