by Poppy Flynn
Micah shook his head and then had to look away from the hurt he saw in her eyes.
"I told you, Melody, that is not something that you need to do," he reiterated firmly.
"But…" She paused, gathering her resolve. "…I want to," she whispered. "It feels different with you."
"No!" Micah bit out before he could soften his reaction. He dragged in a deep breath and confronted the awkward situation head on.
"Melody, what you feel for me is simply gratitude, and it isn't necessary for you to trade yourself in return. I understand the concept is difficult for you because of everything you've been through and how you view your role and your worth," he asserted insistently. "But what sort of a man would I be if I took advantage of your appreciation and allowed you to prostitute yourself in return for what any decent human being would give without thought of reward?"
She was looking more and more fragile and Micah sighed. "It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture, Melody. And it's not that I don't find you attractive. I hope you can understand that. There's a moral principle here, and I crossed a line when I allowed things to go so far in the hydro pool when I should have put a stop to it. Whatever you think you feel, Melody, it's just an illusion. The kind of restitution you want to show me, well, that's a line I can't ever cross again, so please don't ask me to.
Melody seemed to diminish right in front of him, as if the little bit of strength and spirit she had regained was withering away. Micah hated himself for making her feel that way, but he would hate himself even more if he took advantage of her when he should be protecting her. He needed her to understand that he would be less of a man if he took what she was offering, that doing so would devalue who he was as a person and belittle her in the process, even if she wasn't able to see that right now.
As he rubbed his hands over his face, Micah rolled out of the bed and hoped she understood that what he was doing was for her own benefit.
Melody listened to Micah leave the room. A small part of her appreciated that he had no expectations, that his intention to help her came freely, with no strings attached. Still, it rankled that the only man she had ever offered herself to had turned her away, and while logic told her that it wasn't outright rejection, it still felt that way. It still hurt that way, and Melody couldn't help but roll away into a foetal position and draw into herself.
It was a while before she managed to drag herself out of the bed. When she stared at herself in the huge ornate mirror, she felt her lungs squeeze and her face heat with shame and inadequacy. While her hair was cleaner than it had been in forever, the flyaway tresses had escaped from the confines of the long plait she had secured it in and hung around her face in disarray. The bruises on her face had turned a sickly yellow-green and her body was covered with marks from cigarette burns to lacerations to lash welts. The distinctive pattern of finger marks bruised the tender skin at the tops of both her thighs, and her little toe stuck out at an unnatural angle where V had deliberately broken it when he'd first snatched her—a stark and painful warning against trying to run away.
It was little wonder that Micah didn't want her. Just look at the state of her; why would anybody?
Chapter 8
Ten days later, things had settled into a routine. It was almost three weeks since Melody had escaped from her captor, and most of her bruises and all of the minor abrasions were gone. A course of antibiotics, a healthy diet, large doses of vitamin C, and plenty of Vaseline to keep her healing skin supple meant that the larger wounds were free of infection and now nothing more than thin scabs which would be gone in a few more days. The addition of high energy protein and vitamin shakes meant that she had gained almost six pounds and lost the gaunt, skeletal look she'd had when Micah had found her, though she still had a way to go. Her skin had also lost the sallow complexion and now, though still pale, had a healthy pink glow, her hair a glossy sheen which had been missing in the beginning.
Xavier was pleased with her recovery, even her frostbitten toes had healed well, though her little toe—which had obviously been badly broken in the past—still needed close scrutiny. It had blackened and showed signs of necrosis, undoubtedly exacerbated by the poor blood supply in the distorted phalanges, but it would take weeks, maybe months, to ascertain whether the underlying cells were still viable or if there was a possibility of gangrene.
Still, Melody was almost unrecognisable from the dirty, fragile waif Micah had initially taken in.
He hadn't realised just how swollen her face had been until the inflammation had receded. Her features were a lot more defined than he had first thought, with high cheekbones and a fine bone structure which had been obscured by the swelling. She really was quite beautiful, almost ethereal with her unique violet eyes and silvery hair. He knew the latter was an anomaly, a freak of nature likely caused by severe trauma, but it became her.
Unfortunately, her mental health didn't seem to be quite so positive, and, although she hadn't woken him in the night since that first time, she seemed sad and withdrawn. He knew it would take her a while to adjust to her new situation, but he was certain something else was eating at her. Plus, she'd been distinctly reserved around him, which relieved him on the one hand since he didn't want to encourage any awkward attachment issues and he was concerned that Melody might be emotionally hungry, which wouldn't be at all surprising considering her history. But it worried him, on the other, as she wasn't exhibiting the expected responses for someone who was adjusting from her kind of situation. Not that the withdrawal and possible hints of depression weren't normal, but she did seem to be missing the processes of elation and relief which made him wonder if she was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Except she had chosen to escape, so that shouldn't be the case. It needed some closer investigation, that was certain.
In the meantime, since she was back on her feet, he had given her some light duties to perform around the club. Nothing too taxing; she wasn't up to that yet, but a little dusting and vacuuming and breaking down the stock boxes and taking them to the recycling area to encourage her to venture outside. Mostly, though, he found little tasks for her to perform so that she could feel like she was making a contribution to her upkeep, because he knew that was important to her, and also to give her a small sense of purpose since she had gone far too many years without.
They had fallen into a comfortable living arrangement. Micah had chosen to keep Melody sleeping in the boudoir room. It inevitably meant late nights, but that would still have been the case if she used the employee lounge instead of him. He wondered idly if that was why he hadn't heard her recently. The offices and private employee areas were soundproofed to some extent so that they had a quieter working environment during club opening hours. Those first nights, Micah had left all the connecting doors open in case there were any problems, but recently he'd been closing them all, in order to give them each a modicum of privacy. Maybe he just wasn't able to hear her.
Sighing as he checked through the last month's invoices, before he sent them to the accountant, he made a mental note to sit down and have a chat with her when he'd finished.
When he searched her out an hour later, Micah was surprised to find her in the playroom, wandering around and studying the BDSM equipment.
The nature of the club had never been mentioned and Micah had decided it was best to keep it that way, concerned that Melody would be uncomfortable with it, possibly even scared, after the incarceration and abuse she had suffered. Now, though, he hung back in the entryway and watched as she ran her hands over a spanking bench, touching the various rings used for attachments and bindings with what almost looked like nostalgia.
She didn't notice him until after she had moved over to a display of crops and paddles on one of the walls. She started as she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye and pulled her hand away from where it caressed a wooden paddle designed to resemble a hair brush and turned away from the display to face him.
"Oh, hi," she murmured breathlessly, colou
r riding high on her cheeks as she attempted to move surreptitiously away from the wall that had intrigued her so much.
Micah moved further into the room, deciding it was best to tackle things head on. She was living here, after all, so it was time to find out if being in the club was disturbing her and whether or not they needed to come up with another solution. Maybe she could bunk at Trinity's. Micah knew his assistant manager's apartment was empty for half the week now. Since she and Christian had gotten back together, she spent her days off at his place because of the distance. Not that he was convinced that it would be healthy for Melody to spend too much time alone right now, given her fragile mental state. It would give her too much time to brood and maybe come to the wrong conclusions, but if she wasn't comfortable being at the club, he wasn't sure what other options there were.
"How are you doing, Melody?" Micah asked, coming into the dungeon and gesturing for her to follow him to one of the comfortable seating areas so they could get to the bottom of her current malaise.
"Oh, I'm fine," she said with a noncommittal shrug, avoiding eye contact as she perched herself on the edge of the seat opposite him.
Micah sighed silently. Her body language was saying anything but fine.
"We haven't really broached the subject of what type of club this is. I'm concerned that, given your circumstances, you might be uncomfortable here. You seem a little tense and uneasy."
"I know what kind of place this is," Melody admitted, looking out over the club floor and casting her eyes around. "Daddy used to take me to a place like this regularly." She looked down again, fidgeting with her fingers. "It's one of the things that drew me to stay close by… it was familiar," she finally acknowledged.
It hadn't been the response Micah was expecting, given her seeming awkwardness. Clearly, there was something else playing on her mind.
"I see," Micah replied evenly, settling back into the couch with his legs crossed and his fingers threaded while he tapped his thumbs together in contemplation. He watched her intently, even though his mind was reeling from the unexpected confession that she had been a kink club regular.
Melody was sitting stiffly, and the anxiety, which seemed to be rolling off her in waves, was impossible to miss. Micah focused himself to deal with that which was clearly overwhelming her right now. He could contemplate her other little bombshell later on.
"It's fairly normal, you know, to find yourself grieving over the loss of a place or a person who is familiar to you, even if that situation was far from ideal. It's what we call Stockholm or Helsinki syndrome. Do you think that might be a problem for you? Are you missing V?"
"What? No!" she cried, aghast, swinging back to look at him, her pretty eyes wide with shock. "No way!" she emphasised, clasping her arms about her torso and recoiling back into her chair as if to protect herself from the very idea.
Micah resisted the urge to blow out a loud breath. His usual professional distance seemed to be severely lacking when it came to Melody, he just wasn't sure why. Maybe it really was just that her circumstances reminded him too profoundly of his ex as the anniversary of her death approached.
He nodded calmly, even though his insides roiled and an unexpected fear that he was going about this all wrong kept pummelling his mind, causing him to second guess himself in a way he hadn't done since he'd quit his psychology practice six months after Sara died.
Jesus! He was better than this, and he desperately didn't want to misread something that might affect Melody's wellbeing. He couldn't go through that again. Even though he hadn't been involved in Sara's tragic demise, even though she had chosen to leave him and pursue a different life, the one she felt he couldn't give her, Micah still felt that he should have been more aware, that he should have done something that might have saved her. He should have seen the signs.
She cut off all contact with you, blocked your calls, refused to see you, the little voice of reason inside of his head insisted.
Yeah, and that should have been your first clue, the devil on his shoulder argued.
Micah shook himself, slamming the door on the old memories and recriminations that were trying to consume him. There was a time and a place, and this wasn't it. He needed to concentrate on Melody right now and possibly offer some help where it might make a difference. Sara was gone, and no amount of criticism and self-reproach was going to change that.
"Something's clearly bothering you, though," Micah insisted. "I can't help you with it unless you talk to me about it."
Melody dropped her head and hugged herself all the tighter, looking so forlorn that Micah felt his gut clench in response.
"But you don't want me," Melody answered so quietly he had to lean forward and strain to hear her. "I'm nothing but a useless burden to you, one that you feel obligated to help because you found me on your doorstep. You won't even allow me to perform the services that befit your slave."
"Melody!" Micah exclaimed. "That's not the way it is. Come here," he demanded, patting the space next to him.
Melody moved across, her head bowed and her hands folded in her lap as she sat ramrod straight with her knees pressed tight together. The fresh scent of soap and a strange kind of innocence wafted as she passed, capturing Micah's attention. There was simply no artifice in Melody, he acknowledged. She wore her mass of luxurious hair loose, not as an enticement, but simply because she had no idea what else to do with it. Perfume, makeup, fashionable clothes, provocative wiles, she had none of those things because she had never had the opportunity to develop them. She was beautiful in a way she didn't even realise because she had spent so long being abused and demeaned and convinced that she had no more worth than an animal. Less even, since most people treated their pets better than Melody had been treated. She looked so sad and forsaken, so desperate for a taste of human warmth and approval that Micah couldn't help himself. He had been fighting his professional judgement where Melody was concerned, since the day he had found her. Now he went with his overwhelming gut instinct instead and simply picked her up and cradled her in his lap, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close, the way he'd longed to do so many times in the past ten days.
She curled into him and puddled in his arms, just like he knew she would, and this time he put aside all the educated arguments which told him this wasn't professional and put himself in her place instead. God knew, if he'd had to endure the torment and the suffering which Melody had, he'd just want someone to hold him close and shelter him and make him believe that there was still some genuine care and human kindness left in the world. He certainly wouldn't want to feel isolated and alone and apprehensive, as Melody obviously did.
He leaned back and simply held her in silence, and as she relaxed and slipped her arms around him in return, Micah knew he had done the right thing.
It wasn't until she started to squirm a good while later that Micah resumed their conversation.
"Okay," he sighed, looking down at where she was curled up in his arms like a trusting little kitten. "It's clear that we need to have a frank and honest chat and get a few things straightened out and work on those misconceptions of yours and maybe a few that I might be guilty of harbouring myself. Are you up for that?"
She looked up at him with clear, guileless eyes and nodded solemnly.
"Right," he huffed resolutely. "First of all, yes, I do feel obligated to help you, but that doesn't make you a burden," he insisted. "I would help anyone in a similar situation if it were within my power to do so, and I have no trouble admitting that it would make me feel good about myself in doing it. That's just the way I'm wired. I like to help people."
"So I'm nothing special then," she determined gloomily, looking away from him again.
"Stop it!" Micah chastised. "You are special. Everyone in the entire world is special in their own unique way. Well, with the possible exceptions of ass-hats and dickwads," he countered, drawing a reluctant smile from her as he'd intended. "That aside, I can pretty much guarantee that if you had been a
drunken bum or a minor, I would certainly have approached things differently. You are here because it seemed like the right thing to do under the circumstances."
She relaxed into him once again, laying her head on his wide chest and toying absently with the buttons on his shirt in a way that was really quite distracting. A hard-on was one thing he could really do without for the duration of this conversation, but if Melody didn't stop squirming around on his lap and running her fingers idly across his chest, that was the way things would end up going!
Micah adjusted himself surreptitiously and ploughed ahead, determined to keep his mind from wandering in a direction it really shouldn't go in, despite the provocation.
"As far as not wanting you for my slave, you're right…" He felt her flinch and stiffen and pulled her up to face him, cupping her chin in his hands so she couldn't look away. "But that has nothing to do with you or your value or the way I feel about you. It is simply a dynamic that I do not want to endure. I don't want someone in my life who can't think for themselves. I don't want to shoulder the entire responsibility for another person's day to day existence. When I'm in a relationship, I want it to be autonomous and I want the other person in that relationship to care for me as much as I care for them. And I want them to show that care and do things for me because they want to, not because I've told them to. I want unexpected intimacy and surprises and thoughtful little things that make me realise I'm appreciated for who I am, not because I'm a master who has ordered it!" he insisted passionately.
Micah eased back, realising he had let his emotions on the subject run away with him. He felt like he owed her an explanation for them, a small one, anyway.
"You're not the first person to want this from me, and it's not the first time I've balked at the idea."
"It's not? Really?" she asked earnestly, searching his eyes.
"No, I had a girlfriend who wanted the same."
"What happened?" Melody asked tentatively.