Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4

by Kay Elle Parker

  A hand slid around the back of her neck, squeezing gently as it drew her up. His fingers were so strong and warm, like firm brands on her skin. “How about an exchange, Lisha? One mouthful of oatmeal,” he wiggled the spoon, then tilted his head toward the tray, “for one piece of fruit.”

  Alicia’s glare mellowed into a thoughtful frown. Was that enjoyment in his eyes? Was it her refusal to eat the oatmeal and the consequent banter between them, or was he getting something else from this she wasn’t aware of…something only Daddies could see? “One spoon for all the fruit.”

  “No.” He set the spoon in the bowl, then selected an orange segment and placed it on top of the preloaded cutlery. “It’s going to taste worse than you already think it will if you let it go cold. Did you think of something fun to do today?”

  She made the mistake of opening her mouth to answer. Quick as a whip, Atticus picked up the spoon and popped it between her parted lips before she could do anything.

  When she tried to let it fall out of her mouth, he gave her a level stare and said in a very calm, very stern tone, “Spit it out and I’ll find something else for you to swallow instead, princess.” His eyes widened slightly with shock before they shuttered. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate to say the least.”

  What was she supposed to do if she couldn’t spit or swallow? The taste of oatmeal seeped into her taste buds. She wanted to scrape several layers of skin off her tongue to get rid of it as she locked eyes with Atticus, determined to win this battle of wills.

  “Chew and swallow, there’s a good girl,” he coaxed quietly, giving her a squeeze on the neck. “I know your type, Lisha. People pleasing is an innate part of you—it’s been hammered into you, I think, and you’ve learned that putting others’ happiness above your own ups the odds of them leaving you alone. If you give them what they want, they won’t hassle you for more.”

  Well, she couldn’t deny he had her there. It was unnerving how he could read her like a fancy security system, know which buttons to press to disarm her. Good girl was her downfall—she really hoped he wasn’t aware of just how deeply those two little words affected her. If he was…God help her, the man had unprecedented power over her.

  Rebelling against her stomach and the gag reflex threatening to spill bile over the pretty comforter, Alicia forced herself to chew the mouthful, grimacing as oatmeal and orange mashed together.

  “That’s it, princess.” The smile Atticus gave her was like opening the door into the heavenly light. “Keep going. You know what comes next.”

  Ugh, he was so mean. Her hands fisted as she made herself swallow, and she almost hurled. Luckily for her—not—he already had another spoonful of warm ickiness prepared, this time with some plump blueberries. “Do you not have visitors you need to harass?”

  The spoon nudged her lip. “Jasper and Archie? They had to go to work. They’ll come back—they always do. So will Connie and Thane, Loki and Liam. Bodie can’t travel right now, but we can go to her when you’re ready.”

  Her objection was cut short by the offensive utensil shoveling more oatmeal into her mouth. Suitably furious, she ate what he fed her under silent protest, then tried to speak again, only for the big oaf to stuff more oatmeal into her.

  By the time the bowl was empty, Atticus was grinning smugly, and she was so frustrated by his tactics, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her belly was full, she couldn’t deny that, but that wasn’t the reason why she turned her nose up at the toast he offered her as a peace offering.

  He tapped her on the nose. “Sulking?”

  “No.” She folded her arms over her chest and pouted. She really needed the bathroom, but she wouldn’t admit that to him. “I’d like to finish watching the movie now, if you’re not going to shove anything else down my throat.”

  Oh boy, that eyebrow arched slowly. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “I can think of something else, that’s for sure.” He shifted the tray away, then cupped her face in both hands, holding her captive. “I’m a dominant man, Alicia. Being in charge, giving orders, is my road in life. Taking care of people is what I’m good at. It’s fulfilling.”

  “Is that why you’re a Daddy Dom?” she blurted without thinking the question through.

  A laugh rumbled in his chest as he shook his head. Green eyes darkening, he studied her face carefully. Calloused thumbs stroked her cheekbones. “Picked up on that, did you? I’m not sure I’m pleased you know the phrase Daddy Dom. Not pleased at all.”

  Alicia rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know what it entails, precisely. Come on, Atticus, I’m disabled, not stupid. Everyone treats me like I’m a kid, but I’m not. I’m an adult who figured out her sister is shacked up with a guy who has a lot of money and owns a sex club. You and the others have something to do with it, too—do you not think I know where Connie was going most nights when she was supposedly going into the city for night classes?”

  “Maybe this conversation should wait until you’ve settled in properly,” he mused.

  “No, let’s do it now. We’re not strangers, Atticus. Not completely, anyway. Besides, what you, Connie, and the others do has nothing to do with me. I’m just the stray who needs taking in.” Her lips curved in an attempt to distance herself from the ache of her own words.

  Atticus’ face hardened. “There’s nothing stray about you, Alicia. If you value the comfort of sitting down, you won’t repeat comments like that in my earshot—and my hearing is keen. Just in case you were thinking about talking shit about yourself under your breath.”

  She shrugged. If he didn’t like how the truth hurt, that was his problem. She’d made her peace with being the family baton, passed from hand to hand. If she was lucky, maybe Atticus would keep her for more than a few months—but she supposed that depended on how quickly he grew bored of her. “So, I guess you’re into spanking then? The kinky shit my parents…”

  “Your parents?” he asked sharply.

  “You know they were bad people. They were horrible to Bodie, and they did terrible things to everyone who crossed paths with them. Drugs, sex, weapons…nothing was out of their scope as long as it made them money.” Alicia exhaled slowly. “People with kinky appetites became Abraham’s pet project. Lure them in with high-class prostitutes, sweeten the deal with a narcotic or two, then blackmail the hell out of them. Politicians, city officials…whoever he could drag into the scheme, he would. Thanks to him, I know about the lifestyle—and the lives he ruined.”

  “What about you, Alicia? Were you in their scope?”

  She hesitated. She was half a step away from plunging into unchartered territory here—not even Connie had managed to pry open her inner vault this far. The question was, how much did she trust Atticus with her secrets? Once she revealed one, she had a disturbing feeling the rest would just come tumbling out.

  She couldn’t lie to his face with those goddamn eyes on hers.

  “From the day I was born,” she admitted quietly. “Bodie had a lucky escape, getting out when she did. He would have sold her, you know, our father. Hell, both he and our mother would have taken whatever they could get for her. Money meant so much more to them than blood or morals.”

  “Did he sell you?”

  “Oh, that’s…not for lack of trying.” Alicia felt his fingers tighten on her cheeks but didn’t fight them. He was a protector, after all, and this was something he couldn’t defend her from, he couldn’t change. “There were a few of his customers who expressed an interest in fucking the paraplegic,” she said bitterly. “They were dissuaded of that interest fairly quickly when I started flailing around, thrashing and moaning like a dying whore. My version of saying no,” she added, “which, for the record, I said more than once.”

  “They left you alone.”

  “They did. Abraham didn’t.” Jesus, what kind of conversation was this to be having at early-o’clock on a Saturday morning? “He wanted his money’s worth out of me, and he was fucking tired of being t
old no. So, he did what he was good at, and took what he wanted.”

  Atticus’ hands slid away and left her feeling lonely. It was nice to have the heat and pressure of someone else’s touch on her skin—she’d been deprived of human contact long enough to cherish it when it was offered in friendship. “The fucker raped you.”

  She sighed and leaned back against the pillows. The food in her belly twisted and roiled in protest against the negative emotions flitting around the room. “Abraham was an asshole, driven by my bitch of a mother. Hopefully, they’re both suffering for eternity in the pits of hell for all their crimes. My father lived with the desire to fuck his daughters—he made it happen. I’m surprised he didn’t ambush Bodie one night and fuck her, I know he had plans to do just that.”

  Uh-oh, Atticus looked ready to pop a vein or two in his silent fury. Nostrils flaring, eyes dark and steely, he gave the impression he could do very bad things with ease.

  “It’s all good though,” Alicia continued desperately, trying to calm him down. But the more words that tumbled from her lips, the more his rage grew. “It’s not like I had much of a future to lose, right? If Abraham had gotten his hands on her, maybe she wouldn’t be all happy and loved up with Braun. There wouldn’t be any baby. If fucking me means she got the life she deserves, then I—”

  The beast snapped. Her heart lurched when Atticus rose slowly, every movement like a tiger on the hunt. His hands hooked under her arms and hoisted her from beneath the covers—naked, because she hadn’t taken the time to wear the T-shirt he’d given her—and his furious gaze felt like a jade laser beam caressing her skin.

  Alicia didn’t move as he placed her on top of the duvet. She just watched him for any signs of violence he might fire in her direction. It was with surprise that she accepted the brush of his fingertips over her shoulders, her flat breasts, the hollow of her belly. He made her disastrously aware of how underweight she was, with only that feathered touch.

  It wasn’t even a sexual caress. He found every faded scar and old wound, pressing them gently as though acknowledging them. “Are any of these from him?”

  Her throat was far too tight. “M-Most of them. Diane liked to hit so she didn’t leave marks, but Abraham enjoyed making sure I knew who owned me. Scars are permanent,” Alicia told him with a sad smile. “They last a lot longer than the ones who dole them out.”

  Atticus bared his teeth as he rolled her onto her side and inspected her back. “You said nothing of this to Connie. Not once in all your time with her did you mention anything about what they did to you. Why?”

  Her attempt at a smile died. As she settled back onto the mattress, looking up at him, she wondered what the best way to answer him was going to be. That why was pretty damn growly and demanding. “Don’t you think she had enough shit weighing her down without adding the woe is me, my father raped me burden on top? There’s nothing she could have done—nothing you can do—to change things, and I came to terms with it years ago. That’s who I am, Atticus, it’s what I do.”

  “It’s what you’ve conned yourself into believing you do,” he corrected sharply, displaying a hot, harsh energy she hadn’t seen in him before. “Need I remind you, princess, I’ve seen you in one of your funks. That isn’t someone who’s come to terms with anything. That’s a woman who falls into the darkness because she can’t stop the memories.”

  Alicia pushed herself up on her elbows. “It was almost a decade ago, Atticus. I was fifteen. I’ve had a long time to deal with it. My parents were sadistic assholes, boo hoo. My father treated me like his personal fucktoy for a few weeks until something better diverted his attention from me, how sad. I’m not the only young girl who’ll have gone through something like that, and I won’t be last.”

  “You’ll talk to Connie about this,” Atticus decreed.

  “I will not!” she fired back in an outraged tone.

  “Yes, you damn well will, or I swear to God, I’ll tell her myself and lock you in a goddamn room with her.”

  Alicia glared at him with all the anger she could muster. “That goes against Daddy-little confidentiality rules. What I tell you in the bedroom, stays in the bedroom.”

  Atticus took a step back, his face turning into a hard mask…but not before a fierce yearning shone in his eyes. “I think you’re referring to attorney-client privilege, Alicia, which doesn’t apply to the Daddy-little dynamic. But you get an A for effort and creativity.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Besides, I’m not your Daddy.”

  Grumbling under her breath, she dragged herself back up the mattress. Her bladder told her she needed the bathroom, but this was an opportunity too good to miss. “Okay, I can’t say I’m completely knowledgeable on what happens in a dynamic, but so far, you’ve fed me, bathed me, tucked me into bed, and called me princess. Are you telling me that doesn’t qualify you as a Daddy in this situation?”

  “I—”

  “Not to mention rescuing me in the first place.” Propped against the pillows, she batted her eyelashes at him innocently. “Is that not what a Daddy does, saving his princess from big, bad monsters?”

  God, she was pushing all his buttons, she realized when he seemed to expand in size. His shoulders straightened, his arms folding over the muscles in his chest. Whatever being a Daddy entailed, Atticus took it very seriously. The concept intrigued her—as a product of being raised by two brutally cold, psychopathic people, the idea of being coddled that way was perplexing.

  “Daddies do whatever it takes to make sure their little girls are happy, safe, and loved. Everything is based on trust, consent, and a mutual need to please.” The muscles in his jaw clenched and released. “Right now, exploring dynamics shouldn’t be high on your priority list, Alicia. Getting better, body and mind, is the only thing you need to focus on.”

  Alicia snorted. “That’s not what you want, is it?”

  “Brat. What I want and you need aren’t compatible at the moment.” A wistful look appeared in his eyes. “Maybe one day.”

  She wasn’t quite ready to let the subject drop, not when his control seemed to be slipping—Atticus wasn’t a man who let his control loose without reason, she’d learned that much from Connie. She tried to think of what she knew about his kink, which was pitifully little. No pun intended. “So, there are ages?”

  He glowered at her. “Yes.”

  “There are babies, right? And littles?”

  Maybe there was a smidgen of triumph in her smile when his arms dropped to his sides, and he sighed as though she’d finally worn him down to the bone. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  Alicia pursed her lips. “You did say think of something fun to do.”

  “No one warned me how much trouble you’d be,” he muttered, then sat again. His fingers linked together, dangling between his spread thighs. “Less than twenty-four hours and you’re already up to mischief.”

  The barb struck. Oh God, she was causing him trouble. She knew what happened to people who stepped over the line—they were thrown away, cast aside, and forgotten. She’d relaxed enough in his presence to show some of her true self, finding it amusing to push his buttons, but what if he tired of her antics and threw her out, sent her away to another rehab facility?

  Alicia recoiled, sinking into the pillows and zipping her mouth firmly shut. God, she’d never say another word again if it meant he’d keep her. She wouldn’t survive being tossed away again.

  “That’s not a bad thing, Lisha.” Obviously sensing her alarm, Atticus’s eyes softened with compassion. He reached out and ran the back of his fingers along her cheek. “I’m not saying that, princess. I love the fact you’re comfortable enough here to let that side of you come out and play. You’ll never be reprimanded for being who you are, I promise.”

  Tears strained her throat. She couldn’t speak now if her life depended on it.

  “Ask anything you want, Alicia. I’ll answer as best I can.”

  She couldn’t. The perceived threat of banis
hment shocked her into muteness. She felt her lips quiver, then her chin, and Atticus blurred in a sheen of tears. Mortally embarrassed, she slapped at Atticus’s hands blindly, connecting once or twice, but it was a futile resistance against the inevitable.

  In a heartbeat, she was lifted onto his lap. One strong arm behind her back, supporting her, while he adjusted her legs so they were comfortable. Then that big hand pressed against her cheek, urging her to lay her head on his shoulder as he rocked gently from side to side.

  It still surprised her that he made no move to cop a feel while she was naked. Others hadn’t been as considerate when she’d been fully clothed, but Atticus made her feel like a person, a woman, by giving her respect. By giving her a choice.

  “Eventually, you’ll learn that no one’s going to throw you away. There isn’t anyone stupid enough to do so. You can speak your mind, Alicia, and you’re free to be whoever you want to be.” His head tilted to rest on top of hers. “In my world, we don’t judge. I know women who love pretending to be kittens, and men who will submit all night long just to feel the falls of a flogger on their ass. Doms who desire to cause pain to subs who orgasm at the thought. We are who we are, princess. It’s all we can be.”

  A sob lurched in her chest. If she was who she was, she couldn’t think of a single goddamn reason to keep breathing. She was tainted by her own blood, trapped in a body that was broken by fifty percent, drowning in depression so thick and torrid she lost chunks of time.

  If that’s all she could be, she didn’t want to be anything at all.

  Chapter Four

  Whatever plans he had for the day went out the damn window. Not that he had much in the pipeline—a little work, some downtime with Alicia—but he forgot all of it when she huddled into him, her slight frame shaking in his arms. She wasn’t cold, even though she’d neglected to wear the shirt he’d brought for her.