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“I don’t give a shit. I’m taking care of you,” he states, placing me in the bathroom. “I will stand outside the door, and when you’re done, shout and we will shower, and then I can get you some food and meds,” he states before stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
I shake my head and go about my business. “Done,” I call as I flush the toilet. I stand at the sink and wash my hands, but as I look in the mirror, I freeze. Both of my eyes are black, blue, and purple. They are swollen underneath, yellow bruising covers my cheek, a stitched cut is on my eyebrow, and cracked scabs are dotted across my bottom lip, a little with fresh blood. My fingers delicately touch it, testing for pain.
I don’t hear Beast come in, and he doesn’t say anything. He reaches the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing and lifts it slowly and carefully over my head, placing soft kisses along my shoulder as he does. A tear escapes my eye and trickles down my cheek.
Beast reaches inside the shower cubicle, switching it on. “Can’t get your stitches wet, okay?” he says softly as he guides me in. I turn with my back to Beast and the shower, and as the water hits my scalp, I hiss as it stings. I feel Beast’s fingers gently move my hair to investigate. “That mother fucker,” he growls.
I swallow. “They dragged me by my hair,” I mutter.
Beast’s arms come around my waist. He splays his hands across my stomach, pressing his front against my back. We stand there in silence as he just holds me. He doesn’t push or rush me. After a while, I tell him I’m ready. He moves behind me, stroking his hand through my hair, not my scalp, washing my hair, being careful not to pull or touch where it hurts. Once he’s rinsed it, his hands return to my body with some shower gel, gliding across my skin as he washes me. I close my eyes at the aroma. His hand dips between my legs, washing my intimate area. Once done, he switches off the water and guides me out of the shower. He wraps me in a towel before he wraps one around his waist. He then carries me back into the bedroom and sits me on the bed. After he’s dried me off, he then crouches in front of me, holding my panties out. I lift each foot for him to slide them up my legs, stopping at my thighs. I stand and he glides them on the rest of the way. He reaches up and holds my hips, before placing a kiss on my stomach.
I don’t need help getting dressed. I am perfectly capable, but it’s like he needs to do it. He opens the draw and takes out one of his T-shirts. He stretches the neck before gliding it cautiously over my head. He even grabs my hairbrush, being extra cautious when brushing the end of my hair, avoiding my scalp. Once done, he places a soft kiss on my neck. My bottom lip trembles as I fight back the emotions. Tears sting my eyes, and he notices before he crouches in front of me, placing his hands on my thighs.
“What is it?” he asks. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head no. “No, I’m okay.” I sniff. I look at him, and his deep blue eyes are full of love and concern. “Charlie and my mom had an affair,” I blurt out. He blinks at my admission, but he doesn’t press asking questions. He just kneels there before me, patiently waiting. With his love and care focused on me, the overwhelming horror of last night circling around and around in my mind, I offload, telling him everything that happened. I notice his eyes change when I mention what Charlie did to me, like a dark cloud taking over his normally light eyes. The tears fall, but not like they did last night. Maybe it’s the knowing I’m safe, maybe it’s knowing Charlie is dead, or maybe it’s just the sheer love and care from the man before me that I’m talking about last night. I don’t know, but as I tell him, my chest feels lighter. The darkness surrounding me lightens just ever so slightly.
The silence becomes deafening. I begin to worry, that while it has made me feel a little better offloading it, that it’s too much for him. I reach out and cup his face in my hands, stroking my thumbs across his cheeks.
“Anders?” I ask. His eyes flicker with warmth. Holding my wrists, he turns his head and kisses both my palms before holding my hands in his.
“I know I said it earlier, but I’m going to say it again. No one will ever hurt you again. If I could kill Charlie all over again, I would,” he admits.
“I’m sorry,” I apologise. “I don’t mean to put this on you. I?—”
He cuts me off. “Don’t you ever fucking apologise. Ever,” he says sternly. “Now, we are going to get you fed and give you some pain meds. If it gets too much at any point, just say, and I will bring you back in here,” he states.
A small smile plays on my lips. “You protecting me from your own club now?” I ask.
He returns my smile. “Darlin’, I’d protect you from my brothers, a puppy, or a damn kitten if it made you upset. Like I told you, you are mine to protect. No matter what.”
I catch the side glances when they think I’m not looking. All these guys are scary on a normal day, but apparently, seeing my face creates an anger they can’t seem to hide.
“I think I should go back to the bedroom,” I whisper to Beast.
“Why? Are you tired? Do you want a lie down?” he asks, concerned.
“No, I just get the feeling I’m upsetting everyone,” I answer honestly.
Beast turns and looks around the table at everyone. “You got a problem with Belle?” he asks bluntly.
I grab his arm, “Beast,” I whisper, trying to stop him.
“I have a problem,” Rage states.
Beast’s fists clench tightly around his knife and fork, so much so I’m surprised he hasn’t broken them. “I will warn you now Rage, be careful what you fucking say next,” he growls.
Rage frowns. “Her face makes me angry. Seeing that, it’s like when Star was r-a-p-e-d,” he says, spelling out the last word.
“Rage, why are you spelling it out?” Maggie asks.
“Because Dixie said the babies learn quickly, and you have to be careful what you say around them. I figured y’all wouldn’t want their first word to be something like rape,” he answers, shrugging.
Star smiles. “That’s thoughtful of you, Rage.”
Rage nods. “But yeah, her face makes me want to strangle the life out of the guy that did it. Not that I can, because you already slit his throat.” He sighs, shaking his head.
Star reaches over and pats Rage’s hand. “Here’s an idea. Maybe we cannot talk about slitting throats or strangling people in front of the kids, too? Or even better, not while we are eating dinner,” she suggests.
