Page 17 of Redemption in the Dark (The Righteous 5)
“Maybe you’re losing your touch,” she said as she reached for the light switch.
The lights didn’t turn on when she flicked the switch, and then groaned as she realized there were no light bulbs. With her dramatic exit officially ruined, she opened the door, and Wolf was standing outside the door with an oil lamp in his hand. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to—the look in his eyes said it all.
Lamp in hand, she closed the door again and leaned against the wood. The arrogant mask she’d been using slipped as her side screamed. She’d been stupid for bending over the way she had. Hobbling into the bathroom, she set the lamp on the small counter and noticed a hook to lock the handle into for safety.
Taking a deep breath, she looked at herself in the mirror and the bruise that marred the side of her face, then she glanced down at her covered rib cage. It took a moment, but she found the end of the strip tied around her body, and like she was a mummy taking off the wrapping, she unwound the long strip of material. Cringing, she gripped the edge of the sink to catch her breath before she dared to look at the damage. Like a bird opening its wings, she spread the blanket and allowed her eyes to find the dark bruising on her side. It wasn’t the worst she’d ever received, but it was in her top three.
The homes she’d lived in had people there who were masters at hiding the bruises they inflicted. But it wasn’t the ones on her skin that lasted or scarred, although she had a few of those as well. She held out her arms and stared at the scars from where she’d inflicted her own pain. Although covered with pretty tattoos, the lines could still be seen under the colorful ink.
How had so many terrible people been deemed as deserving guardians? It was a question that no one could ever answer, including the social workers who seemed like they genuinely wanted to help. Sadly, they’d usually shrug as their final response to the question and leave her at another abusive home anyway.
“Maeve,these people have never had a problem with children in their care. Why is it that every place we put you turns into a problem,” the social worker Sandy asked.
Her voice was soft, but the words made it sound like she was in trouble for saying what was happening to her.
“I don’t know. The men hurt me. They touch me and stuff.” She looked away from Sandy’s gaze.
She was embarrassed by what they did, and it was like no one wanted to believe her. Why would they? She was a kid that had a bad reputation for running away and making things up. At least, according to the adults. But they weren’t the ones that dreaded the sound of feet coming down the hall or the feel of the men as they rubbed themselves on her until a gross, sticky substance spat all over her.
“Maeve, I’m having a really hard time believing you. I want to, I really do, but the Coopers have had over thirty children in their care, and you’re the only one who has made these allegations.”
“What does alle…allegwatiotns mean?”
“Allegations. It means you’re the only one that has ever said anything like this.” The corner of Sandy’s mouth pulled up as she laid a hand on her shoulder, which said more than the words could.
Maeve clenched her hands into fists as her eyes met Sandy’s.
“You think I’m lying. I’m not lying. If you leave me here, I’ll run away. Living on the streets is better than this house.”
“You don’t mean that, Maeve. The streets are a hard place to live, and you’ll definitely run into far meaner people.”
She glared at the woman that didn’t seem to be listening or was stupid. How could it be that at the age of eleven, she understood the dangers better than this woman that was supposed to help her?
“Keep me here then, and the next time he comes into my room and slips under the blankets, I’ll cut his dick off,” she said, and Sandy’s mouth fell open and backed up like she’d smacked her. “Was that real enough for you?”
Turning, she marched along the cobblestone path to the house and went inside to pack her things. One way or another, she wasn’t staying in this house another minute.
Her hands wrappedaround the edge of the small sink as she hung her head when a knock startled her out of her dark thoughts.
“Maeve.” Wolf’s voice came through the door.
“It’s open.”
The door cracked open, and she shifted out of the way to let him stand in the doorway. She figured this was where he would ask for the sexual favor.
“I made this.” He held up a bowl. “It’s a salve for your side. Once you’ve had a shower, you’ll want to put this on your injuries, then use this to wrap it.” He held up his other hand, holding a white roll of bandages in it. “If you need help, just let me know.”
When she didn’t move to take the offering, he placed them on the counter.
An unfamiliar instinct washed through her, pushing her toward him. She grabbed his face and slammed their lips together before he could react. He didn’t open up or yield as she’d expected. Instead, he pulled his head away and held onto her shoulders to keep her from trying again.
“Please don’t do that,” he said, his eyes firm even though there was desire staring back at her. Backing out of the bathroom, he closed the door.
Her heart hammered in her chest like the galloping stallion outside as she leaned against the wall. There was something entirely fascinating about Wolf, and his ability to push her away only made her determination to have him grow. She felt like a seed planted in the fresh spring dirt, breaking free of its casing and filling her with the need to touch the sun that was Wolf.
* * *
What the hellhad he gotten himself into? Maeve was as wild and unpredictable as the wind outside. He could feel the tingling on his lips from where she’d kissed him, but the kiss was desperate and not in a good way.
