Page 75 of Power
I feel nauseous as I place my hand to my head while he rubs my ankles and my other wrist to get the blood flowing again.
“Do you feel you can stand?”
I nod.
He is half-dressed already. I look around for my clothes, but Archer drapes his suit jacket over my shoulders while I stand there silently. I can’t even see Finn. Did he leave?
“I need a shower or something,” I murmur. I’m sticky and sweaty and covered in cum not only from just now but this morning as well. The need to rinse off is clawing at my belly.
“One minute, and I’ll take you where you can clean up,” Owen mutters, dropping to his knees.
Finn reappears with a small box, and Owen sets about cleaning up my wounds and then sticks a big bandage over them. I blink at it.
“Will they scar?” I mumble.
“Just the one,” Finn replies.
I nod, not even caring that he mutilated me. It’s something that marks me as his. I’m so fucked-up that I think this is okay, but it really doesn’t register that it’s wrong or horrific.
Maybe my pure and elite blood is showing. Obviously, my dad is a bit of a psycho knob, so it stands to reason that I’m one too.
“Come,” Owen says, standing up and helping me walk to the door.
“We will be waiting for you close by,” Archer informs me.
He hasn’t touched me or said much of anything to me since he released me from the binds. I’m worried I’ve done something wrong to upset him, but the need to clean up far outweighs my need to question him about it. I can do that after.
Owen leads me back the way we came, but I pause halfway down the room to gape at a woman riding a man’s face while she whips him viciously. She has a leather bra on, if you could call it that, seeing as her boobs are entirely exposed, and a pair of black leather bunny ears.
I gulp, but I can’t look away. It’s arousing me.
Owen chuckles softly. “Do you want to do that?”
I shake my head. “No, but I guess watching it is different.”
Biting the inside of my lip as we start walking again, I ask, “Who was that man?”
“Nobody you know or will know.”
“Oh. Is he part of the, you know?”
“No.”
I nod, thankful that I don’t have to parade around wondering if he is staring at me while we do this Court thing.
Remembering that, I groan inwardly.
“Here,” Owen says, leading me to a big black door.
The giant from the front is waiting there with a small leather bag that Owen takes. “Some clothes, a towel, and a few bits.”
“Thanks.” I give him a soft smile and take it from him, hobbling into the ladies’ room, conscious of the sticky bandage.
The room is dimmed and appears to be a shower room of sorts. I make my way over to the last one, which has a sectioned-off cubicle to get naked before I climb in. Relieved to have the privacy, I place the bag down and turn the shower on. Taking the jacket off, I place it on the wooden bench next to the bag. Opening it, I find the towels and toiletries. Leaving the towels on top of the jacket, I carefully climb into the shower with the shampoo, soap, and sponge. I grit my teeth as the too-warm water hits my cuts and sensitive skin, but I’m grateful for the bandage over the recent cuts. My knees wobble, but I pull it together to get clean.
A few minutes later, I wrap my hair up in the smaller towel before drying off, patting my skin gingerly. Sitting down to poke through the bag, I find a gorgeous blood-red jersey dress with a scooped neck and long sleeves. It will sweep the floor unless they remembered to pack me some heels. They didn’t. Black ballet flats. Pulling it over my head, I delight in the soft fabric, the knowledge hitting me that they chose this, knowing Finn was going to cut me. There is no waistband to press against the wounds. Slipping the shoes on and spritzing some body spray, I hear a hair dryer fire up and wonder if I have one.
I don’t.
