Page 72 of Knot All that Glitters: Part 1

“What you’re doing is wrong,” I whisper.

“Maybe,” he concedes. “But it’s not going to stop me from doing it.”

I feel him move closer, feel the air shift, then the sharp sting of something cracking across my shoulder blades. I cry out,but it’s not loud enough to cover the sound of his bark.“You will not talk to, text or email any member of the Calloway pack.”

“No,” I gasp out in protest, but it ends on another sound of pain as he hits me again.

“You will not seek out the Calloway Pack.”

Another blow. “You will not ask Florence to speak to them on your behalf.”

Smack. “You will not entertain any proposal from any pack that approaches you ever again.”

On and on it goes, a blow to my body with what I realize is a cane, and then a blow to my heart, my brain, my emotions with another command heaped on top of those he’s already given me. So many that I lose track. Eventually they fall on my ears like rain falls on flowers. I soak them up, but don’t comprehend the limitations he’s putting on me. Not really. The pain in my body is too great for me to track them all.

And I can do nothing but stand there and take it. I can’t even fall to my knees in agony, curl around my stomach protectively. The command for me to stand in place is still in effect.

He’s breathing heavily by the time he’s finished, like beating his daughter is a workout for him. He moves to stand in front of me, the cane clenched in his fist. I keep my blurry vision lowered, focused on his feet. I am well and truly cowed. There is no fight in me, nothing left.

“Look at me, Haven.” I don’t want to. I don’t want to look into the face of the man who should love me more than anyone else but doesn’t. I don’t want to see the cold mask I know will be on his face. “Look at me.”

Technically, I am looking at him, I could probably ignore that command, but I know what he wants so I lift my eyes to his, noting that he’s taken his white button-up shirt off, so he’s only in his undershirt. The sleeves are bunched around his shoulderslike he needed them out of the way for a better range of motion. I stared dazedly at his upper shoulder, a piece of skin I’ve never seen on my father before. Which is odd, but Frederick Bell is always perfectly put together in a suit and tie. Ren once joked that he probably slept in a suit.

“Now.”

I pull my gaze away from his shoulder and up to his face, meeting his muddy brown eyes, wishing I could spit in his face, but knowing I don’t have it in me. He tucks a strand of sweat slicked hair behind my ears and lays down one more command. “You will not give me a reason to repeat this lesson.”

My eyes drift closed as the command shivers over my skin, taking root. Tears swell behind my closed lids before spilling down my cheeks. His lips press into my forehead in a mockery of fatherly affection.

“Good night, daughter,” he says before walking away, leaving me standing amidst blood splatters on the living room area rug.

He returns just before five a.m., already dressed for the day in a suit, and tells me I can move. My knees give out immediately, falling to the floor with a cry of agony and relief. One and the same after hours of keeping my battered body upright.

As I hit the floor, I hear his footsteps retreat. Then the front door opens and closes. My eyes drift shut as my body shuts down. I’ll move up to my room in a couple of hours, but right now, the idea of dragging my limbs even an inch away is impossible.

No, I’ll sleep here for a bit. Then move, lock myself in my room to recover.

As I drift off, the memory of my father’s shoulder filters through my mind again, that always carefully hidden piece of skin. I’ve never understood why he was so uptight about keeping his chest hidden. When he goes to the beach, he always wears a swim shirt. Says it’s to protect him from the sun.

But now I know better.

My father’s been keeping a secret from me, from the entire world.

Because last night, while he was doling out my punishment, too distracted by teaching me a lesson, he slipped up and let me see it. There on his shoulder were two perfectly formed and healed crescent moon scars.

My father, the man who rages against designations and instincts and packs, has a mating bite. Which means he has a bond.

Or he did at one point.

Chapter 18: Something is Seriously Wrong

I’m going out of my mind. Haven said she might be hard to get a hold of when she went home. She warned us that her phone is not really private, and neither is her email and laptop. Her father checks them regularly in the name of ‘safety’, but I’m sure there’s another reason.

Something a bit more controlling.

We’ve texted. We’ve called. We’ve emailed.

Every attempt to talk to our sweet omega is met with silence.

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