Page 13 of Unorthodox
After I brush my teeth and my hair.
I glance in the mirror at my green eyes, the circles of blue beneath them. My face looks hollower somehow, and when I pinch my stomach, there’s nearly nothing to hold onto.
One week.
It’s been one week, and I barely recognize myself—body or mind.
Although, that’s not quite true, either.
Max isn’t the only monster I’ve ever let into my bed, and I wasn’t drugged for them. It’s just this time the monsters have sharper claws.
My eyes dip down to my breasts, and I think about my surgery a year ago. About coming to, my father beaming as I lay on the gurney, feeling like an elephant was on my chest. Strangely, he didn’t touch me after that.
Maybe they’re actually the same kind of monsters here as they are back home.
After I brush my teeth and rinse, I risk a glance at my back, picking up the edge of my tank top as I look in the mirror to see my skin.
I bite back a gasp, tasting blood in my mouth.
The flesh isn’t open, but the marks from the whip…they’re still there.
“Hurry. Up.”Ben’s words are low, right at the door, and I nearly jump as I yank the hem of my shirt down.
Swallowing my fear, I turn to the door and pull it open quickly. If I’m not quick, things hurt far more.
Ben’s deep blue eyes are on mine, but I quickly look away.No eye contact.
I’m not quick enough.
Ben hits me across the face and my head spins to the side, my face on fire. I open my mouth, flex my jaw.
Hear it click.
Getting hit by a man isn’t a new thing for me. My father is violent in every sense of the word. Uncle Cade was, too.
Still, it’s a feeling you never really get used to.
I flex my jaw again, tasting more iron in my mouth as I bring a shaking hand up to my lips to wipe the blood away.
“Are you done?” Ben asks me, but it’s a trick. I’m a fast learner, and I knew his questions were tricks the first day we started this.
Growing up in a house like I did, you quickly learned to read the moods of violent men. Reading incorrectly could get you killed.
I swallow down the blood in my mouth and nod once without looking at him. If I speak, I get hit again.
I don’t want that.
I drop my hand, keep my head turned to the side so I don’t have to see Ben. So I don’t accidentally meet his eye again, see his dark blue gaze studying me, waiting for me to fuck up.
He’s attractive enough, if you have a thing for demons.
Sometimes I do.
“Get on your knees,” he says calmly, almost politely. But I recognize the challenge lurking too.
My entire life has prepared me for a man like Ben.
My father is a monster. The men he hired to guard me were made of the same evil he is. And men like that? They thrive on your disobedience.
