Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4

by Kay Elle Parker

  Atticus blinked, switching mental gears from Alicia to Archie. Hell, had he actually forgotten he’d promised to fulfill Anarchy’s double fantasy? The last seven days had screwed with him more than he thought. “It’s a go?”

  “Well, that depends, doesn’t it? This thing you’ve got going with Alicia—the whole Daddy-little dynamic—has potential, right? Oh, don’t tell me you’re not pursuing it, Att. You lie like you’ve spent the last forty years strapped to a lie detector and know how to avoid every pitfall.” Jasper ran his hand over his white hair in exasperation. “Look, we’ll understand if you can’t go through with it. Finding the one who makes you happy and keeping her is more important than a slightly crazy dream, especially if doing one jeopardizes the other.”

  He thought of kissing Lisha, feeling her lips soften under his. Encouraging her to respond and retaliate, teeth and tongues. They were a long way off consummating any form of relationship. Sex wasn’t ever going to be something he could rush into with her, not with what her father had done, not with what that fucker Elliot had ruined.

  He’d made a promise to Jasper—and in turn, Anarchy—to be the third person in the insanity of a consensual non-consent scene, and he would keep it. If Anarchy really wanted to go through with it, then there was no one else he trusted as much as himself to be that third. It was an honor—maybe a dubious one—to be held in that position of trust.

  “I can’t discuss it with Alicia. She won’t understand. Besides, we don’t have a sexual relationship, we haven’t even broached the subject of sex. I provide something she needs in terms of a strong, dominant father figure, and she…she makes the Daddy Dom in me sigh with relief that we finally have someone to take care of properly.” That sounded so wrong outside the confines of his head. “I can’t swing it tonight. It’s been a fucking stressful day for Lisha, and it isn’t over yet. Maybe tomorrow, if I can organize someone to sit with her for a few hours.”

  “We could kill two birds with one stone,” Jasper suggested. “Connie isn’t going to back off—she’ll become the biggest pain in your ass over the next few days. Draft her in as babysitter for those few hours and keep her happy. Thane volunteered to help with the scene, but we can spare him if you’d rather he stayed with the girls.”

  “Alicia is adamant she doesn’t want to see anyone until she looks better than she does now. Which is bullshit, because she’s already beautiful,” he pointed out before Jasper could comment. His instincts locked onto a teenager who walked past them, and he silently kept an eye on the boy until he disappeared around the corner.

  “She’s too used to isolation, Att. I’ve seen the photos, and Archie hacked into the initial reports from staff interviewed by the cops. The residents of that place were treated like playthings for too many of the orderlies. Kept segregated from everyone else, used and abused and then dumped back in their rooms to rot. She needs human company again. More than just you.”

  The sadist was a wise bastard at times, Atticus thought. It helped that Jasper had the gift of distance, so he could see what Att was missing. If he wasn’t careful, Alicia would become so reliant on him, she’d almost become agoraphobic—much like she was now—and reluctant to socialize.

  “Ask yourself this, brother—who’s the goddamn Daddy?”

  Att chuckled and shook his head. “That would be me.”

  “So be the Daddy. Her Daddy, if that’s what she wants. It’s not all fun and games. She learned that a long time ago, but you need to reacquaint yourself with making the hard decisions that benefit her—and sometimes that means overriding her wishes.”

  Overriding her wishes, Atticus mused. Yes, that was exactly right. Her wishes, not her hard limits. That was where he was worried about crossing the line, and he had to stop. It was similar to having a toddler who refused to have a bath because she hated getting wet—hating getting wet and fearing getting wet were two entirely different scenarios to deal with.

  “All right. Set it up for tomorrow night. Are we doing this in the dark, or while we still have natural light?”

  “The chase is better in the dark. We’ve already got precautions in place. Ten o’clock suit you?”

  “That’ll do. I’d appreciate it if you’d get me her list of hard limits beforehand.”

  “I’ll email them to you.” Jasper inclined his head. “Thanks for doing this, Att. I know it’s only a one-time opportunity, but without you, it wouldn’t be an opportunity at all. Archie doesn’t think she could go through with it if you weren’t the third.” With a firm slap on the back, Jasper stepped away. “Go see to your girl, and we’ll catch you at Avalon tomorrow.”

  Atticus waited until his friend was out of sight, then sighed heavily.

  He was getting too fucking old for being the third, he realized, or just playing Daddy or sadist for the night. What he wanted was to be the one, the only, and go through a scene knowing that the woman he was fucking would be still be curled around him the following morning.

  He yearned for emotional stability. Companionship. Love.

  Not much to ask for, in the grand scheme of things.

  *

  “…only need a few more frames, then we’ll get her out and into recovery.”

  Alicia barely heard the words and processed them before her hearing was viciously assaulted. The odd haze keeping her from surfacing fully couldn’t protect her from the noise as it vibrated in her bones, instilling a horrible sense of ominous dread in her stomach.

  “H-Hello?” Jesus, her tongue felt thick. Wait, had she spoken? “Is anyone there?”

  It took effort to move her arm, and a lot of inner persuasion as to why she should disturb the floaty peace she was trapped in, but stubbornness won over submission. The back of her hand connected heavily with something metal as she struggled with her coordination, and her eyes opened in surprise.

  “Alicia, princess, you’re okay. I’m here. Stay still for me now.”

  Her breath hitched as she rolled her head from side to side, seeing nothing but the inside of a shiny tube with no way out. Where was that voice coming from? She knew who it belonged to, could see his face in her mind’s eye, but he wasn’t here. Atticus wasn’t in this metal coffin with her, counting down the seconds until she ran out of air and suffocated.

  It didn’t matter that she could feel the oxygen tube running over her face below her nose, or that she could almost taste the nothingness of the oxygen hissing through her nasal cavities—she was convinced the tube would kill her.

  Her palms slammed into the tube above her, her fears escalating as she realized her arms didn’t even have room to straighten.

  “Lisha, calm down. Listen to me. Listen to me,” Atticus crooned, his voice sliding like a drug into her veins, only to be pulverized by the adrenaline spiking her blood. “You’re not alone, Alicia. I’m right here. I know you can’t see me, but I need you to stay really still so we can get the pictures we need. I know it’s loud. I know it’s scary in there, but I’m asking you to be brave for me. Just for a few more minutes. Can you do that for me, princess?”

  Alicia scrabbled desperately at the metal, looking for the catch, the button, the goddamn latch that would free her. Her pitiful nails clawed along the smooth insides of the tube, feeling the power of the machine humming through her as it awaited orders.

  Every breath burned her throat, whistling between her clenched teeth. Whatever they’d given her to keep her calm wasn’t working anymore, and she’d been catapulted into a waking nightmare. In a fit of temper, she ripped the oxygen pipe away with a quiet scream of frustration.

  “Goddamn it, Jules, let me go in.”

  “Not while the machine’s running, Atticus. Try and get her to calm down, even for one more round of images. She’s going to hyperventilate if she doesn’t slow her breathing down.”

  Mic’s still on, guys, Alicia thought hysterically. I can hear every word you’re saying.

  “Hold on for me, five more minutes. That’s all I’m asking for, Alicia.
Five more minutes and then I’ll come in there and get you out of that thing myself.” It was like having his hands reach into the middle of the trap to cup her face. “It’s nearly over, baby. You’re so close to seeing this through to the end. Be brave, Alicia.”

  She whimpered, saying the words she hadn’t meant for him to hear. “Daddy, I’m scared.” She had to get out of this box before her heart imploded with the strain of being imprisoned. “I want out.”

  “I know you do. Give Julia one last shot at some clear images, and you’ll be out and eating ice cream before you know it. Lie flat, Alicia. Nice and flat with your arms by your sides, just for a few more minutes. Think about the bear,” he continued without a hitch in his voice. “This really handsome bear I’m holding in my hands right now. He needs a name, Lisha, and he needs you to come up with a good one.”

  She choked on a half-laugh, half-sob. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s good, he’s just missing you. That’s it, beautiful, settle back down now. That’s my precious girl. Relax if you can, take a deep breath of my shirt and close your eyes.” The pride in his tone when she obeyed felt like the sun stroking over her skin, warming her chilled bones. “Such a good girl, Lisha. Arms by your sides now, palms down.”

  “You can see me?” she whispered into the darkness behind her eyelids.

  “Princess, I’m not taking my eyes off you. Are you comfortable there?”

  Resisting the urge to squirm was hard. Closing her eyes didn’t remove the threat of the tube looming around her. What if it collapsed, the weight of the machine buckling metal and canning her like a chunk of tuna? What if she got stuck in here, and no one could get her out? What if she—

  “Alicia. Are you comfortable?”

  Her fingers flexed, then flattened. “Can you please do whatever you need to do so I don’t have to stay in here for much longer?” She swallowed around the constriction in her throat. “This is a very small space.”

  “Last time, I promise. It’s going to get loud again. Keep your eyes closed, think of your bear, and this will be over in a few minutes.”

  The reverberations of the scanner grew in power and noise before his words trailed off completely, filling her with that dread for a second time. She wished she could have another hit of sedative—the lesser of two evils in this case—to help her ride through the panic.

  It reminded her, starkly, of when she’d woke up after the accident, a frail little girl in a sterile hospital bed, with a steel framework around her to keep her from moving too much. Knowing instinctively that something was wrong, but not what the exact problem was—not until she tried to lift her left leg, then her right, and realized she couldn’t feel anything below the waist.

  In the beginning, she’d been completely numb. Skin, flesh, bones…nothing registered. She was cut off from the pelvis down, and the panic that came with that knowledge…Alicia vaguely remembered losing touch with reality, acting so inconsolable that Doctor Fielding had been forced to sedate her.

  Doctors really did have a penchant for sticking needles in her and sending her on all-expenses-paid trips to La-La-Land. Honestly, oblivion was not her favorite holiday destination. There were too many hands waiting to take advantage of her when her eyes were closed, and her mind was bobbing along like a rubber ducky on a pond.

  As though she could sense them poised to touch her, her skin began to itch, sweat beading beneath the borrowed shirt emanating Atticus’s scent. This would be the perfect time for them to strike, wouldn’t it, when she was incapacitated in a narrow little tunnel. They could slide up her legs, find that vulnerable spot between her legs and—

  “Stay still, Lisha. Almost done now. Count down the last thirty seconds with me, baby.” Atticus infiltrated her panic as though he knew where her mind was veering, his tone utterly calm and in control. There would be no intrusive hands groping her while he was here, watching her, guarding her. “Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”

  Her lips formed the numbers without making a sound. Working her way down through the twenties, the teens, into single digits. Her cheeks were wet by the time they reached five, her breath was strangling in her lungs by two. She was weeping when the machine quieted, and the section she was lying on slid smoothly out into the openness of the room.

  Just like he’d promised, Atticus was there.

  Shaking beyond her control, Alicia lifted her arms to him immediately, and was scooped against a hard, warm body without hesitation. She buried her face into his neck and cried as his hand stroked rhythmically up and down her back.

  “Is this normal?” she heard him murmur.

  “We’ve had worse. It can be a harrowing experience in there if the patient is nervous or claustrophobic. She just needs some reassurance and time to settle, and she’ll be fine. Once she calms, she might want to sleep. Let her. Her body will demand a recovery period for the sedative to clear from her system.”

  “Want to go home,” Alicia hiccupped sadly.

  “Yeah, princess, we’re going. Let me just get some instructions from Jules so I can look after you properly, and then we’ll go home.” His cheek pressed against her head. His beard scratchy against her barely-covered scalp. “So sleep is good. Food, fluids?”

  “Keep her hydrated. If she wants to eat, feed her. She hasn’t had a procedure that puts her at risk, but she is going to be tired. And cranky,” Julia added with a low laugh when Alicia tried to wriggle closer to him. “I’ll spend the weekend looking through the scans and, hopefully, there should be some good news. I’ll make some space for you sometime next week. I doubt we’ll need to do another MRI, but I would like to do a CT, and there are some small physical tests I’d like to try. Mainly just to test her reflexes and senses.”

  “All right. Thanks for doing this, Jules.”

  “It really is my pleasure. Cases like these are what keep pushing me to learn. Here’s Michelle with the wheelchair.”

  Alicia risked a peek as the nurse pushed her nemesis into the room, with her clothes folded neatly on the worn seat. God, it looked pathetic when she wasn’t in it. A tangle of metal frame and rubber tires, battered and worn in all the places imaginable.

  “Call me if you find anything, or come up with a spare appointment.”

  “You know I will. Now, get that girl out of here and into a bed.” Julia gave Alicia a light pat on the shoulder. “Two and a half hours of scans will drain the energy out of a woman. You did amazingly well, Alicia, now it’s time to sleep it off. I’ll see you next week.”

  Not if she had any say in it, Alicia thought, burying her face back into the comfort of Atticus’ neck. He really did smell good, but even drowning in him wouldn’t compel her to take another spin in that torture chamber.

  “Oh, Atticus? You might as well keep that scrub top—you’ve burst the seams.” Laughing, Julia slipped from the room.

  Grumbling under his breath—good-naturedly, Lisha noted—Atticus situated her back in the wheelchair, tucking her clothes onto her lap with the bear perched on top. She held onto him tightly, unwilling to lose him. “Ready, princess?”

  God, yes. “I was ready hours ago.”

  His fingers skimmed the back of her neck. “One day, you’ll understand how proud I am of you for putting yourself through this, Alicia. It will all be worth it, swear to God.”

  “Daddy’s honor?” she asked, half-joking. She was finding it hard to keep her head up and her eyes open as he pushed her carefully through the door into the quiet corridor.

  “Daddy’s honor,” Atticus repeated solemnly.

  One of these days, she warned herself, she was going to fall so far down the hole in love with him, not even a flare gun would be able to pinpoint her location. It was a strange and slippery slope, but the view on the way down?

  Priceless.

  *

  Dinner consisted of a thick, juicy burger and the biggest plate of fries she’d ever seen. There was more food in front of her than she could hope to eat—her stomach was already prot
esting at the thought of trying to contain it all.

  The waitress had set it down in front of her as though skinny waifs ordered a year’s worth of food in one sitting, given her a fleeting smile, and told her that the other plate would be out in just a moment.

  Outside, through the glass window of the diner, Atticus paced up and down the sidewalk in agitation, running his hand through his hair as he argued with someone on the phone. Despite the combative posture of his shoulders, he exuded an almost primal aura, as though he could conquer any hurdle thrown in his way.

  It was delightfully arousing to watch him.

  Entranced, Alicia picked up a fry and nibbled, trying to learn his body language. She thought she’d picked up quite a few of his tells during the past week, so she knew when he was content, annoyed, and in that weird state she’d deemed his needs to get laid mood.

  Honestly, she was happy to volunteer…

  When he came stomping back in, the fry in her mouth almost dropped back onto the plate. With that fine shimmer of temper wafting around him, eyes burning bright with banked anger, he resembled some ancient warrior returning after an arduous but victorious battle.

  Yummy.

  His face softened as he sat and snagged a half-dozen fries, smirking when she frowned and waved his hand away from her food. Surprisingly, she was hungry, and the potato goodness was hitting the right spot. If she ate one at a time, she could almost convince herself she wasn’t getting full.

  “Get your own fries,” she told him, pouting when he stole a few more.

  “Princess, these are mine.” He tapped a finger on the edge of the plate, then dragged it over to him as the waitress approached with a second plate and two glasses. “This is yours.”