Page 11 of Fearless
So she waited. All through dinner.
She managed almost half the sandwich, which was cheese, avocado and lettuce with a smear of greenish-brown stuff unlike anything she’d ever tasted before. She got a blob on her thumb and licked it off. As far as she was concerned, that right there was Australia’s second attempt at killing her. She choked. That she didn’t immediately throw it up again was a wonder.
“Vegemite,” Noah supplied. “It’s good for you. Puts hair on your chest.”
Just what she’d always wanted, but when he deliberately took a big bite of his sandwich, unspoken pressure not to be wasteful or rude induced her to keep eating too. So long as there was other stuff in each bite and not the vegemite alone, she found the strong yeasty flavor tolerable.
“No worries about that, love,” Noah said after they’d both finished eating and she started to pick up the dishes. “They’ll keep until morning. You go on and get your rest.”
He took his empty plate and her mostly empty one away from the table, carting both into the kitchen and laying them in the sink.
“If you want to use the toilet, now’s the time. Unless you want one too, I’m going to get my things for a shower.”
The last thing Kitty wanted was to make herself vulnerable in a room that didn’t lock while he… what? Waited for her to drop her pants and get trapped in the middle of it before he finally made his move? If it was going to happen eventually, she might as well get it over with. Besides, it had been a long time since the plane and she had to pee.
Kitty waited until he vanished into his bedroom to get his things and then she quickly ducked into the bathroom. She spent the entire time perched on the toilet, staring at the door in dread and waiting for it to come flying open. It didn’t, but it was still the fastest she’d ever used a toilet in her life.
Quick as she’d been, Noah was still standing right outside the bathroom door, leaned up against the wall while he waited his turn. Ducking past him, head down, she fled straight to her room.
“G’night,” he called before she could close the door. His tone said they were the best of friends. Her chest was so tight it hurt. Sinking down on the edge of her narrow bed, she braced herself to wait all over again.
The walls in this house were thin. She could hear the pattering rain of water pouring into the bottom of the shower, even through the door. She could hear the splashing of his movements as he soaped up and rinsed off. She heard the squeak of the faucet as it was twisted to off and the shower ended. She waited, barely breathing, through the bumping of cupboards and rustling of cloth. Eventually the bathroom door opened. Her hands became fists on her knees. Hard and unblinking, wanting to see it coming, she stared at the door until her eyes burned. But all she heard was the click of the light in the hallway turning off, the padding of his bare feet, softer now without his shoes on, pass right by her door.
“G’night,” he called again, before shutting himself in his room.
It seemed a small forever before the creak of his bedsprings told her he’d laid down. The quiet and the darkness went on for a small forever more, before, suddenly, Kitty found she could breathe again. She gasped in, filling lungs that ached, forcing her too-tight chest to expand enough to allow it.
He wasn’t coming into her room. He really, honestly wasn’t. She was safe, at least for tonight.
Safe.
She didn’t even know what that word meant anymore, but she knew what it felt like. And frankly, if this was how it would always be, then what in the world had she run away for in the first place? What was better? What was different? She was every bit as afraid now as she had been with Ethen, only now without all those little moments of comfort that came with having a set routine. Of knowing what that routine was. Of knowing she was favored first among the Menagerie, with all the added bonuses that came with it.
There was no routine now. There was no comfort and no certainties, and certainly no bonuses. Everything she had was either borrowed from Hadlee, purchased through someone else, or a giant unknown.
What was she doing here?
Getting up, painfully aware of how thin the walls here were, Kitty unzipped her bag and took out the sleeping shirt Hadlee had given her. She hated the feel of it. With Ethen, the Menagerie were never allowed to wear anything to bed. They were never allowed to wear anything at home at all. They were to be open and available to him at all times. For all that he’d done terrible things to her, she missed the comfort of that. Every moment she spent in clothes now made her skin itch and her heart beat anxiously. Most days, it was all she could do not to think of herself as a traitor. Like now, right now, as she turned out the light in her new prison and crawled beneath the light patchwork quilt to lay her head awkwardly upon the pillow. The thin glow of light spilled in under the door, providing only the most shadowy illumination across the hardwood floor of a room she should never have been in.
He must have left the bathroom light on for her.
She closed her eyes, but they wouldn’t stay closed. She thought she heard breathing from the room next door. Her skin kept crawling, kept waiting. And yet, in the back of her exhaustedly wide-awake mind, instead of imminent rape, all she could see was the minor stack of dirty dishes that Ethen never would have tolerated in the kitchen sink, no matter how late it was or how few needed to be washed.
The bed was too comfortable and too squeaky, although she knew that part was only an excuse since the only time it made any sound was when she tossed from her side to her back, casting her wide-eyed stare to the ceiling. She couldn’t sleep, though God knew it wasn’t because she wasn’t tired. She was exhausted and had been for days, even before she’d set foot on that plane.
Unable to stand the itching any more, she sat up long enough to peel out of her nightshirt, throwing it onto the floor before flopping back down and pulling the soft quilt up to her chin. Now she couldn’t sleep because there was a castoff piece of clothing on the floor of her room, something Ethen had tolerated even less than he did dirty dishes.
The box springs squeaked in symphony as she scrambled out of bed, grabbed the nightshirt and folded it neatly. She put it back in her duffel bag and then got back into bed. She rolled from her back to her other side, putting her back to the soft sliver of light creeping beneath her bedroom door and locking her stare on the wall beneath the window.
She was going to be here for a while. She ought to put her clothes away. It was silly to live out of a duffel bag for heaven only knew how long. Plus, duffel bags did not belong on bedroom floors any more than dirty clothes did. A place for everything; everything in its place. She’d been here an hour now at least; there was no excuse for not having put what few things she had into the closet.
Getting up again, she turned on the light and, as quietly as she could, unpacked her things. Her bare feet made only a whisper of sound as she crossed to the closet and opened the old-fashioned door. She leapt back, dropping everything as she clapped her hands across her mouth. She barely muffled her inadvertent scream. An effort had been made to empty the closet enough to provide space for her. Indeed, there were no other clothes hanging there, just seven empty wire hangers and a minor mountain of more boxes stacked almost waist-high inside, as many as could be made to fit. And in the very back, like brown snakes on wall hooks, were a series of belts and leather straps, all of varying lengths and widths and thicknesses. Only two of the three belts had buckles. The widest of the straps had a worn wooden handle. All were supple, and well taken care of despite their age—every one of them the sort capable of delivering the most agonizing bite of a kiss if ever they were to be put to such a purpose.
Kitty gasped once, the only breath she was aware she had taken since opening the closet door. No longer in danger of screaming, still she kept her hands over her mouth.
Noah was a dom.
Well, of course, he was. He’d been at Black Light, hadn’t he? Snapping that whip of his against Hadlee’s naked back and buttocks while Ethen stewed in the audience, silently furious that anyone would dare touch what was his. For her part, Kitty remembered the sound of that scene more than she remembered watching it. The sound had been crisp and loud. Almost as loud as Hadlee’s gasp as she broke under the cracking snap.
