by Emma Cole
“This isn’t my fault. I’ve already told you, multiple times, that I can’t magically pull a solution out of my ass.” He certainly could if I shoved my foot up it. Getting the gist of my thoughts from the expression running across my face, Brent shuts up and walks away.
Rex, ever helpful, states the obvious. “She’s in there crying— again. Either she’s crying, or she's yelling at us to leave her alone. That is, when she’s not staring off into space, blocking everyone else out.”
Sighing in disappointment, I go back to the living room area to give Lark her space.
Later that evening, when she still hasn’t come out of the bedroom, my patience runs out. I have to piss, and I’m sure the others do as well. I open the door to find her a sleeping lump in the enormous bed. Not wanting to wake her, I go ahead and quietly use the bathroom, throwing the paper towel in the trash after I wash my hands. I happen to glance down and find blood-soaked wads of paper in it and nearly panic before comprehension dawns on me. I quietly go back out and through the bedroom to the hall, closing the door gently so as not to disturb her.
***
Emmett
“I’ll go get her some things. Do you know what she prefers?” Apollo’s question is directed at Braeden.
I can’t believe they hadn’t bothered to have basic necessities on hand. It's no wonder she’s so pissed. I voice my thoughts to the men gathered around the living room.
“You think being without supplies might be something like being stuck on the pot without toilet paper?” At least they have the grace to look ashamed.
“She shouldn’t even be having a period. I mean, yes, there can be breakthrough bleeding, but it’s not common after the first year. I was under the impression that Lark had been using the depo injection for a long time. If she’d cooperated and answered my questions, I could have let Marcus know to expect it. I need more medical history than she’s willing to give me.” The good doctor just doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.
Braeden proves that immediately, replying, “Are you really trying to blame her for having a period? Or for not divulging every little thing about herself?” Braeden’s a big guy, and he’s headed straight for Brent. If I'm annoyed with the doctor, he's probably livid.
Rex tries to grab his arm and gets pushed away. Marcus, shorter than them both, but no less built than Braeden, gets between them holding his hands up.
“I’ll go. I’ll get some of everything I can find. Can you three behave if I take Apollo with me? He needs to be seen regularly to avoid anyone coming here.”
We all nod in the affirmative, retaking our seats around the room. They aren’t gone long and come in with Marcus toting a large bag of feminine products and different pain relievers as well as a heating pad. Almost immediately, Braeden gets up and starts gathering things in his arms. He’s able to pick out what she’s likely to want even though I’m positive they have separate bathrooms in their home. I wonder if Lark knows how much of a stalker her best friend is. She probably wouldn’t care, but still. I interrupt when he goes to leave the room.
“I’ll take it.” Expressions around the room vary from disbelief to annoyance. I explain my reasoning, “I’m the only one here that hasn’t hurt her or badgered her incessantly about her issues. One of you goes in there, and she’s going to blow up again.”
Braeden reluctantly agrees, relenting, while Rex lets me know he’s annoyed because he thinks it should be him before me. I’m going to have to explain again to my friend and partner about the breaking up thing. Apparently, he’s extremely dense in this regard— or in denial.
Taking the items from Braeden, I make my way to the bedroom, passing Marcus who’s storing the leftover choices in the hall closet. I find Lark still curled up under the blankets and settle onto the foot of the bed on the corner opposite her. Watching her sleep, I memorize her familiar features. It hurts to know I helped drag her into this mess. It’s unfair for her and Braeden.
Not long after I sit down, she begins to stir. Cracking her pretty brown eyes open, she flinches in surprise. “What are you doing? Stop staring at me. I swear you’re such a sketchy asshole.”
“Well, hello to you too, hellcat.” I smirk at her narrowed eyes. Oh, she doesn’t like that nickname. I remind myself to use it often. We excel at shooting barbs at each other.
“Which one sent you in here? You know you’re the sacrifice, right?” She sits up, pulling herself backward to watch me better.
"I was a volunteer. I even edged your sidekick out. Here." Reaching down to the floor, I pick up the boxes and heating pad, placing them on the bed. "Think you're probably needing one or two of these."
She turns beet red, and I'm thinking it's more in anger than embarrassment. Yep, definitely anger.
"Did the manly men all get together to handle my problem?
Well, the woman is spot on there.
"Oh, just hush and go to the bathroom."
She blinks at me in shock at the motherly type command but gets up, grabbing the boxes anyway. It only takes a moment for her to recover and flounce indignantly off to the connecting room. I have to stifle a chuckle at her attitude since I don't want my balls smacked like I heard about Apollo getting. At least she’s in better spirits when she returns. Sort of.
"Why you? And why do you always have to stare at me?"
I'm amazed she's noticed. I've always gotten the impression she mostly ignores me. "I like you, but I can never say anything that doesn't annoy you. And I figured I'm the least likely to take your insults personally. You always snipe at me. I'm used to it."
She doesn't react the way I expect her to.
"Well, thanks. I appreciate it. And I'm sorry if you think I'm always rude to you."
From the crestfallen expression on her face, I can tell she means it, and I feel like an ass pointing it out. Maybe I should have let Braeden handle it.
"Truce?" Sticking out my hand, I wait until she slips her smaller one into it before yanking her onto the bed with me.
She makes a chirping noise I can't help but laugh at. In a well-executed move I’m assuming Rex taught her, she flips over, straddling me. It's no wonder she's managed to hold her own in the physical altercations.
"Laugh at me again, and I'll tickle you so bad you'll pee your pants," she threatens.
Of course I can't help it and laugh at her again, earning little poking fingers digging into my ribs. I really am ticklish and try to squirm away by rolling. That works for all of two seconds until she manages to get one of my feet pulled back and an arm around my throat. I'm immobilized by the scrappy woman, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it without her choking me out. I'm crying 'uncle' with her knee drilling into my back when the bedroom door swings open.
Five sets of curious and worried eyes greet me, witnessing my downfall to the female on my back.
"Nightingale, is there a reason you're trying to kill him?" Apollo looks like he can't decide if he should be amused or come save me. Wait, when did he start using a pet name? Jealousy rears up in me, urging me to stake my claim on my wildcat.
"I think she should keep him there for a bit. She's been wanting to kick his ass since he called her bird butt." Huh, I'd forgotten about that. I throw a glare at Braeden. He's not helping me here.
Lark lets out a giggle at his comment. "Alright, all of you out."
Brent leaves right off, with the others slower to follow his retreat.
"Got something you wanna say to me, hellcat?" I yelp at her sharp little teeth sinking into the back of my neck. A chuckle outside the door lets me know at least one of the others stayed to eavesdrop. "What the hell was that for?"
"To remind you I bite. No more weird staring. And don't pretend you didn't like it. Pervert."
She's not wrong, I definitely didn't mind it. She climbs off me to yank the door open to a sheepish Rex and an unapologetic Braeden. Now, that rivalry is legendary. Not that Lark has ever believed her housemate carries a torch for her. Or noticed that I d
o as well.
Chapter Seventeen
Going Stir Crazy
Lark
The tussle and talk with Emmett, along with a tampon doing its job, relieve a great deal of my stress. I'm by no means great— or even fine. Any bit of reprieve is welcome, though. I'm also examining many of our past interactions in a different light. Unsure of how I feel about it all, I shelve it under 'things to deal with after getting out of crazy town'.
The guys are all gathered in the living room, minus the two currently getting the stink eye, arguing.
Marcus is protesting something Brent said that I hadn't heard.
"It's not safe. We can't protect everyone out there." I try to figure out what Marcus needs to protect us from.
"Everyone needs the exercise. And to get out of this tiny ass apartment. We're all going stir crazy and tripping over each other. I'm going whether anyone else does or not."
I deduce he's wanting to take us to a gym of some sort, and I agree with him. Even though the wrestling with Emmett has my brand burning, I'm itching to stretch my muscles, and a treadmill would be awesome.
"We're going. I'll try not to punch anyone. We can go at whatever time there's the least amount of people."
Narrowing his eyes at me, Marcus says, "That's half the problem. If someone gets handsy, neither you nor those three can do a thing about it. Brent and I can if it's a guard. Anyone else, and Apollo has to handle it. Even then he might not be able to intervene unless it's blatantly warranted. That's the other half of the problem. There are people at all hours, and they're not the best society has to offer. I'd know, I've been on the receiving end."
A frown marring his countenance, Apollo tries to come to a compromise. "We'll need to plan carefully and have an exit strategy, but I think we can make it work. I want you all to understand there are scenarios we can't anticipate. The responsibility for your choice is on you, I won't be held culpable for something outside of my control." A flick of his eyes toward me, and I know he's thinking of the brand and all that followed.
He's correct in assuming I still hold him responsible for that. A simple warning or any information at all regarding everything that's gone on would have gone a long way to avoid my ire.
The following evening is our opportunity for escaping the boredom. Everyone that could cause large issues for us at the 'Facility'— as this place is known as— is at a party. Apollo filled us in some, and now we know that we're in the subterranean levels of an exclusive spa. He wouldn't tell us the name or the location, though I'm sure Rex and Emmett know, and I don't fuss about it. I want out of these rooms too badly to care. He did tell us it's a high end place and even the upper level guards will be gone, posing as security— leaving only the ones that he can order about if needed. A plan begins to unfold in my head. I keep my mouth shut until I can devise exactly how I want it to go.
Apollo goes over the rules one more time.
"No talking unless you need assistance. Only master," my nose wrinkles in displeasure, "or sir if you need to address Marcus or myself. If anyone touches you, come stand behind me. And do not hit anyone."
Nods from all of us spur Marcus to unlock the door and lead the way while Apollo takes the rear. I want to make an inappropriate joke about it, but I want to go on our excursion more.
We file our way silently down the hall, only the shushing of our footsteps accompany us. We pass several closed doors and go around corners before we reach the gym. It's eerily silent even though I'm sure there is no way all those rooms aren't occupied. It's goes a long way toward showing how complete the soundproofing in this place is. Which should work to my advantage.
Entering a state-of-the art gym, I head directly for the treadmill, setting it to a near sprint. We're all dressed in t-shirts and shorts that we can move easily in. I'd already done my stretching while Apollo was going over his list of do's and don'ts. I roll my eyes at Rex and Braeden taking up the ones on either side of me. There aren't enough for all of us, and Apollo takes the last, leaving the other three to the ellipticals.
Sweating through my shirt a half mile in, my short breaths show the toll the inactivity has taken on my body. I push through to a full mile and walk on shaky legs to the rowing machine. I'll be damned if I don't at least finish a basic routine. The guys seem to fare better or at least hide it better, except for Apollo and Marcus. I'm sure they get regular workouts as I don't know where they go when they're not in the apartment with us.
By the time we're done, I'm soaked through and feel like my bones are the consistency of gelatin. This is ridiculous. Not to mention the irritating ass burn. The guys rarely remark on theirs, and as long as it's not infected— which Marcus checks for daily— I'm not going to complain. The water cooler stationed by the door is glugging away every time I refill the paper cup I'm using from the stack next to it.
"That's a five-gallon jug; if you keep trying to drink it all, you're going to get ill."
I flip my middle finger behind me in the direction the good doctor's voice comes from.
"Well, that's not very ladylike," he drawls.
Snorting mid swallow, I inhale a good amount of the water in my cup. The sputtering and choking I have going on brings my never far away crowd of men. I need to get a girlfriend or two. There has to be a rule about the amount of attention allowed for male to female ratios. I'm positive I've exceeded my fair share. Eyes and nose running and red-faced from embarrassment and coughing up a lung, I glare at Brent.
Voice croaky, I address him. "Take your ladylike expectations and shove them up your ass. Or maybe you'd be happier having one of them do it." Barb delivered, I stomp to the door marked as a bathroom.
It's worse than I'd imagined. My splotchy face, soaked hair, and shirt aren't at all attractive. Should deter anyone we might run into. Thoroughly done with the excursion, I go back out into the equipment-filled area to wait by the door. The guys take the hint I'm giving by ignoring them, and I'm grateful no one tries to talk to me.
Equipment shut off and put away, Marcus once again leads us out in the same formation we'd come here in. One turn around a corner away from our hallway, a keening filters down to us. I try to pick up the pace and get a restraining hand on my arm from Braeden. Apollo moves up the line around us all to go investigate.
In any other scenario, I'd think the noise isn't unusual; except here, the soundproofed rooms should have been blocking it. We follow Apollo albeit more slowly.
I wish I could say I'm shocked by what we come upon.
"Let her go." There's a burly man fucking a woman in the ass from behind. He looks up to snarl at the interruption but blanches when he sees Apollo, releasing the hand he has closed over the crying woman's mouth. Upon closer inspection, she's much younger than I'd originally thought and I'm horrified and disgusted to witness it. She has a swollen face and eyes like she's been struck and blood on her thighs and bottom.
The guard tries to play it off like it's not a big deal. "She mouthed off. You know how they can get." And here it's probably not, unless you don't have permission to touch the merchandise. I'm going with he didn't obtain said permission in the first place based on the harsh lines that have taken over Apollo’s aquiline features.
"Whose is she? I'll be escorting her back to her handler, put your dick away." I've seen him stern and blank faced; this is something else altogether. The hair raises on my arms, my body poised against the wrath emanating off him. I am very glad his anger isn't directed at me or my companions. Even Marcus appears wary in my peripheral vision.
The man's cock is hanging flaccid outside the placket of his pants. He slips it in, mess and all, before zipping up. Then the prick wipes his hand on the girl’s back while she remains slumped over a utility sink. Apollo's isn't the only fist clenching in fury. The man cringes back, but it's too late. Apollo darts a hand out, gripping the man by his throat and tossing him out of the janitorial closet. He doesn't look back, just picks himself up off the floor to disappear down the hall.
&n
bsp; I chance stepping forward, intent on helping the girl. Apollo zeroes in on my movements and seems to register that I'm not a foe as he focus' on my face. I edge around him, reaching for the bruised girl even as she shies away.
"Hey, hon. Come on, let me see where all you're hurt." The girl lifts a stark gaze in my direction, but she doesn't appear to be all there. She's been terribly traumatized, much like I would be right now had I not had the fortune of falling into the safer option. I don't want to force her to let me examine her with the guys. Although, Brent would be the better option if I was sure she would allow him near her. Stepping further into the small area, I motion Apollo out. "Could one of you please get something to cover her with? I think we should take her back to the rooms and check her out there. Anyone could come up on us here."
That shakes Apollo out of whatever state he's in, prompting him to send Marcus to get something to cover her with. Pulling the door shut, I flick the switch on the wall for a dim bulb to pop on, bathing everything in a yellowish light. Thankfully, the sink has hot and cold water, and with a few paper towels I wash the shivering girl up. She's starting to become more coherent and helps turn to allow me to reach other areas. I leave the spots between her legs alone except for in the most superficial manner. A shower would be best instead of scrubbing with rough paper. I try to make small talk to alleviate the tension.
"I'm Lark. What's your name?
The girl replies in a near whisper that is only audible because I'm so close. "Emily."
"Emily, how old are you? Do you know how long you've been here?"
"I just turned eighteen and graduated high school. I was at a graduation party the night I was taken. I think that was about two weeks ago." Emily's voice strengthens as she speaks.