Page 3 of Thorns Laced In Blood

She blinked, yet nothing on her face changed, but my eyes narrowed on her hand when it tightened around her teddy bear. The micro-movement made me want to hurl at the thought of someone abusing her since she was a child. The report gauged the abuse from around the age of twelve to thirteen. A possible decade of unmitigated abuse was hard to stomach.

When I noticed Dom reaching out to pull her out of the wheelchair, I raised my hand. He stopped before his fingers touched her black hoody. I crouched down so I could look into her eyes.

“Hello, Jane. My name is Saul, but if you decide to speak, you will only call me Sir or Master,” I said softly. “I am a fair Master and will not be unkind, but we will cover the rules in time.”

Her pupils dilated, but she didn't move, and there wasn't a flicker of comprehension in her pretty, lifeless eyes. Seeing her in person only made me more determined to bring life back into her pretty, broken eyes and a smile on her lips. As my resolve strengthened, Dom moved behind me but went around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door.

“I’m going to help you into the car,” I said before I placed my arm beneath her legs and slid the other behind her back.

It didn't matter how many times I reviewed her medical files because the stark reality was before me. When I lifted her up, I knew how severe her malnutrition was if, after 7 months, she was still a pile of bones. I cradled her limp body close to mine as I walked around my car. Once I carefully placed her into the car and fastened her seat belt, I closed the door.

“I want to be kept in the loop about any information on her abuser or her identity,” I said as I turned to face Dom.

“We are doing everything possible, but I will keep you posted. As you can imagine, Grayson is using every avenue he can to find the culprit,” he said as he glanced at Jane.

I nodded. Grayson knew numerous people because of the club, many of them in high places.

“So you think he is alive?” I asked because I wanted a piece of the culprit.

“The amount of blood found on her was inconclusive. There are too many factors involved to presume she managed to kill him,” he said with a sigh. “Personally, I don't think there was enough.”

It was hard to believe that the slight young woman in my car had managed to draw her abuser’s blood and escape.

“Why are you all so invested?” I asked curiously. I knew they were strict about the club and adhering to the rules. Since she was mine, I didn’t want their interference. I wanted free rein to pull her back to life in a manner I saw fit.

Dom had a grim smile on his face before he answered.

“We are fathers now, Saul. This kind of shit happens far too often, but this is a particularly nasty case. After spending time with her, you were the only person who came to mind.”

I gave him a nod before looking at Jane, who was sitting in the car looking ahead. She hadn't moved her arms out from under the seatbelt.

“I know what I must do,” I said tersely because it wouldn't be pretty.

I’d seen enough trauma in my life to know I would need to pick her apart piece by piece before putting her back together again. The cracks would always be there like a broken mirror, but everything depended on Jane. A dominant might have control,but a submissive held a greater power. This was something Jane would need to learn through time.

???

She remained silent for the three-hour journey to my home, and as much as I’d wanted to observe her, my focus remained on the road. The four days had been tight, but I’d adjusted my home for her arrival. My first task was to place her in a regimental daily routine that would aid in developing a structure for her.

Dr Arin’s report mentioned that the toy was likely from her childhood and not from her abuser. If it hadn't been for that woman’s intervention, Jane would have been lost for good. I glanced at Jane, but she still looked ahead through the windscreen.

“This is your new home. No more hospitals,” I said as I took her hand.

I held the back of her hand to look at the scar on her wrist. It wasn't cut with a smooth instrument like a knife or a razor but was jagged. It was unlike the others. She didn't tense her arm or resist. She simply ignored me. I couldn't help the smile that crept along my lips.

“You will respond to me eventually because you're mine now,” I whispered, rubbing my thumb over the scar.

Her wrist jerked in my hand, but I tightened my grip on her. It must have been an involuntary spasm, yet her lips parted slightly, and her breathing became uneven. Nothing else changed, not her expression, posture, or head. So I lifted her hand and traced my tongue across her scar while keeping my eyes on her face. Her only reaction was several blinks.

“Let me know when you're ready to talk or play,” I said as I placed her hand on her lap and unclipped her seatbelt. I knew she was in no shape to do so anytime soon.

I got her bag from the back seat and placed it on my shoulder before opening her door. When she didn't move to get out, I put the other strap of her backpack on my shoulder and proceeded to lift her out of the car. It was no skin off my nose since I got to hold her. I carried her up the stone steps before placing her in front of the door. Once she stood upright, I opened the door and put my arm around her waist to pull her into the house.

“We can take a walk in the gardens tomorrow. The house is safe, and there is a wall surrounding the property’s boundaries. I’m going to put dinner in the oven,” I said before I took her into the reception room and sat her on the middle of the couch. I will give you a tour of the house while dinner is cooking.”

Her blond hair had a natural wave and had fallen over her face. I pushed it behind her ear before I left the room. Once I placed her backpack beside the stairs, I went into the kitchen to put the tray of chicken and vegetables in the oven. With the timer set, I checked the dining room to ensure I’d left the large pillow on the floor beside the table. Everything would be a trial and test to see what she was most comfortable with, but I would adapt as we progressed.

When I returned to the reception room, Jane sat where I left her. When I walked towards her, she didn't look up. Her head was dipped down, and her hair covered her face. I reached for her hand and pulled her up. She held her bear to her belly but didn't look up.

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