Counts of Eight (The Four Families Book 1)

by Brynn Ford

  “You’re bleeding,” he says. “I’m—”

  I reach out for his fingertips with mine. ”Don’t you dare apologize to me for what he’s done.”

  “Anya,” he says.

  I tug at his fingertips, encouraging him forward and I step into his arms, wrapping mine around his middle. He’s hesitant at first, but then he does the same, squeezing and holding me tight. I’m aware of his erection still present between us, but it doesn’t scare me the way it should after all I’ve been through. I know he doesn’t want it. The fact that he still has it is a testament to the way he’s been violated by Nikolai, too.

  Somehow he must know I’m thinking about it. ”I’m sorry. About that…” he says.

  “That’s not your fault,” I tell him.

  He kisses the top of my head, then pulls back. “If you’re okay, I’ll leave you alone to shower.”

  “No, don’t go.”

  His green eyes flicker with gratitude. I think it seems strange at first, but really, I know he needs comfort just as much as I do. He’s grateful that I’ve asked him to stay with me because he needs me, too. We need each other right now.

  He nods. “Okay. I won’t go.”

  I close my eyes. “Can you help me? I want to feel clean and it hurts too much to…”

  “Just tell me what you need, Anya. I’ll do whatever you need.”

  As risky as it is for my fragile sanity in the moment, I ask Ezra to clean me, I ask him to use the bath sponge to cleanse between my legs. I could do it myself, but I can feel in my gut how much he wants to help me, how much he needs to feel like he’s done something to make it better.

  We both need cleansing from Nikolai’s assault.

  He bends to one knee on the tile and starts to tentatively scrub across the tops of my thighs where Nikolai has made four small cuts—four new scars to join all the others. The soap stings, but nothing like the feeling of them being carved into my skin.

  He hesitates and looks up at me. “Do you want me to...”

  He doesn’t finish the question because he knows that I know what he’s asking.

  “I just want to feel clean, Ezra. I want every trace of him wiped away.”

  “And you’re sure you want me to?”

  I nod.

  Tenderly, Ezra cleans between my legs. He’s soft with me, gentle. He works quickly, doing just enough to make me feel cleansed without lingering. It doesn’t feel awkward and for once, I don’t feel weak for asking for help. Perhaps it’s just because I’m so tired and he’s being so attentive, so compassionate. He stands and lightly grips my shoulders, turning me to face the spray of water.

  A beat of fear tenses my shoulders. The way he grabbed me and put me under the water without warning takes my mind back to the pool. I have to remind myself that it’s just a shower. I can pull my head out from under the waterfall whenever I want. Ezra’s touch is light, not harsh like Nikolai’s, and I know if I tell him to let me go, he will.

  I breathe in courage and tilt my head toward the water, letting it run down my face. It’s warm and it surprises me just how refreshing and wholly cleansing it feels. Ezra’s still here with me, his hands delicate on my shoulders. He stands a step back from me and I know he’s trying to give me space.

  Normally it’s exactly what I would need.

  Nothing is the same with Ezra, though.

  It never has been.

  Just like I relied on his warmth, his nearness, to get through Nikolai’s torment, I need him now more than I ever did. I need to be held and cared for. In truth, I always needed it. I just pretended I didn’t for the last three years. I’d become so good at lying to myself that I’d convinced myself it was true.

  Ezra came into my life with warmth and light and truth. Truth, even when I didn’t know I was living in lies.

  I cross my arms over my chest and place my hands on top of his. His fingers twitch beneath my palms and I clutch them in my grip to keep him from pulling away from me. I need him right now and I don’t want him to pull away. I pull down, bringing his hands with mine until he gets the hint. He steps closer with my encouraging tug and lets his hands fall to hold my waist. He’s still so tentative, so respectful, though I know it’s strained. It makes me want to cry all over again.

  At the same moment that I lean backward, he leans forward, giving me his chest to rest my head against. His arms finally give in, wrapping entirely around my waist to hold me, and I feel him sigh.

  The coldness I’ve hardened my heart with over time threatens, but Ezra’s warmth melts it before it can encapsulate me in ice.

  “Are you okay, Ezra?”

  He bends his head forward and his cheek brushes against mine. “Am I okay? Are you? I don’t think either of us are.”

  “I’ll survive. I’ve done it for three years.”

  “And how many years more?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t want you to just survive. I want you to live, Anya. You deserve a real life. You deserve heaven and he’s giving you hell.”

  “It doesn’t help to wish for a different kind of life. This is the life he’s given us, and no one is going to rescue us from it. No one.”

  His chest rises as he takes in a heavy breath, and I know he’s nearly ready to spew a mountain of anger and frustration about our situation. But he must know that won’t help me now, in this moment. He must know that will only make this hurt more for me.

  Instead, he’s quiet.

  Instead, he’s still.

  Instead, he gives me peace in the chaos.

  When we get out of the shower, Ezra dries me with a towel and helps me put on underwear, some looser fitting pajama pants, and a camisole tank top.

  I have nothing in my room that will fit him, so he changes from his soaking wet boxer briefs and wraps a towel around his waist. I can’t stand the thought of him leaving me to go to his room just for clothes, though I know it’s risky that Ezra and I are alone together at all. Nikolai had drowned me before for this very reason.

  His unpredictability truly is jarring.

  Still, I convince myself it’s okay that we’re in my room together because he told Ezra to take me and go. He knew Kostya wasn’t nearby. Really, I know this is a stupid thing to convince myself of, but I just need Ezra here with me. I don’t understand why I feel this way and I hate that I do.

  In any case, I don’t want Ezra to leave me and he chooses to stay. He kneels in front of me where I’m perched on the edge of my bed. His skin shines fresh from the shower and I find that I ache with the desire to touch it, to feel the smoothness of it. I imagine it would feel soft beneath my fingertips.

  “How do you go on?” he asks with curious eyes. “How do you fall asleep at night and wake up the next morning and go on? I think I’m going to have nightmares about this every time I close my eyes and it wasn’t even me being hurt.”

  I speak slowly, softly, “It was every bit as much an injury to you as it was to me.”

  He shakes his head. “No. That’s not true.”

  “He made you an unwilling participant, didn’t he? Did you not feel violated for the way he manipulated your arousal and used it in such a way to shame you?” I sigh. “Rape is rape, Ezra…emotional or physical.”

  He hesitates and blinks, his brow creasing as he shakes his head. “He abuses us both. You’re not wrong about that,” he says. “I just don’t understand how you...How many times has he done this to you?”

  “Alone? More times than I care to count. With a partner? Tonight was the second time. The first wasn’t nearly as awful.”

  I expect him to respond, but he doesn’t. He just waits. He gives me the pause I need to find my words and speak them into the shared space between us. It’s strange the way he brings my feelings to the surface with nothing more than a patient pause and a look.

 
; A look that makes me feel safe, even when I’m not.

  “This was the worst I’ve ever had it here. Not because of the vile things he did to me. He’s done all of those things before…” I swallow. “It was worse because of you.”

  His face falls and he slumps back to sit on his heels, looking as though he’s just seen a ghost. He rubs his hands on the towel straining around his strong thighs, looks down, then back up at me.

  Still, he says nothing.

  “I had a hard time hiding with you there in the room. I’ve always been able to retreat to a dark space in my mind, a corner I hide away in when he’s hurting me. I’ve tried to hide in that dark space ever since you arrived, Ezra. I can do it when you’re not near me, but when you are…” I pause. “There’s just so much light in you that even if I go to that dark corner, it’s not dark enough to hide in. I don’t think I was ever able to hide from you, not entirely. Having you there while Nikolai hurt me, seeing how he hurt you, nearly broke me.” My voice cracks and unexpected tears spill down my cheeks. “I don’t know if I’m making any sense. I just...I can’t let myself get attached. I can’t. I know it only makes it worse, but the thought of losing you...”

  I let the tears take over. He lets me cry for a few moments and then lifts back up onto his knees. He reaches for my hands, pulling them from my lap. He moves with slow intention as he puts one of my hands on his chest, over his heart, and holds the other sweetly in his palm. He licks his lips and blinks a little too long, inhaling a deep breath through his nose.

  “My heart beats out of control every time I’m with you,” he confesses with a gentle voice.

  I force an ill-placed chuckle through my sadness, though it’s entirely without feeling. “That’s because torture and torment follow me like a shadow. This,” I tap my hand over his heart where he placed it, “this is because of fear. Because of loneliness. Because of desperation to feel something, anything but the hopelessness for our future.”

  He narrows his eyes at me and shuffles closer on his knees. I feel the rough texture of the overly bleached towel rub against my shins. His nearness and touch make my heart beat faster, but I’m too much of a realist to think anything of it. I won’t let myself feel anything about it, though I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should.

  I want to.

  “Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t patronize me. I know you think you know everything about me, Anya, but you don’t. I know the difference between fearing and wanting. I know the difference between desperation and need. My heart beats faster for you.”

  I try to take a breath and it catches in my throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I know you fear getting attached, you fear losing me. What you don’t know is that I’m already attached. I’m yours. And I won’t fucking lose you.”

  He squeezes both my hands tighter, holding the one over his heart and the other on my lap. He looks down and shakes his head, yet again giving me a quiet pause before looking up at me. His green eyes steal mine with life and truth and vibrancy.

  Just like that, with a snap that cracks all reason, I’m stolen.

  Not by a cruel master, but instead, by a brilliant man who could make me want to hope again.

  This is dangerous.

  But still, I want it.

  I pull on our entwined hands, yanking him toward me as I lean forward and crash my lips against his. He squeezes my fingers and I can feel his restrained desperation when his pillow soft lips twitch against mine.

  I feel what he’s feeling.

  He’s aching to part them, to taste and explore me. I hesitate, but its brief. If he’d taken that liberty on his own, pressing me too hard, too fast to open for him, it would’ve ended right then.

  But he didn’t do that.

  He waited.

  He breathes heavy through his nose, patient in the chaste kiss, though I can feel every inch of tension in his body.

  I want it because he waits.

  I want it more and more with each passing second of complete respect and patience. For the first time in nearly three years, I want physical affection.

  He is the sunshine to my wilting petals. His light gives me nourishment. Like a rose, I blossom for him, parting my lips with permission to explore this sensation with me.

  Ezra’s tongue slips inside and though the invasion threatens to shut me down, it’s only for a moment. Then the moment passes and inexplicably, I feel free.

  He makes me feel free.

  I sigh into his mouth, shaking his hands from mine so I can grab his face and pull him closer. I bend over him to deepen the kiss, but he pushes back, lifting higher on his knees to meet me.

  His hands fall heavy on the bed on either side of my hips. I feel it dip as he presses down and I know he’s holding himself back. He’s leaning into me, his tongue sweeping in and around, tasting every bit of me in a silent, desperate plea to have more of me.

  I can’t give him more of me, not now, and he knows it. Knowing he knows it and yet still doesn’t push me sends a flurry of feeling through my stomach, tiny wings that flutter and buzz with the most pleasant sensation.

  It makes me want to give him more of me.

  And I know I will someday.

  Because this man makes my heart beat faster in the best way I’ve ever known.

  Chapter 18

  Ezra

  Anya kissed me two nights ago, and I can’t stop thinking about it.

  I’m pacing inside my ugly green room after dark, too full of energy to sleep. I still get locked in at night, though I’m no longer required to wear the ankle cuff. I get to move freely—mostly—throughout the manor during the day.

  Kostya follows me around more often than he follows Anya. She’s proven her submission and trustworthiness over years. All I’ve managed to prove over months is my impatience and bad fucking attitude.

  I’m wishing I could get out of here—go dance in the studio for a while or do something, anything, to get rid of this excess energy pulsing through my muscles—when I hear the locks turning on the door.

  I wrinkle my forehead, confused because this is unusual.

  It’s not morning. Dinner was only a few hours ago.

  Kostya always lets me out in the morning, never at night.

  I move toward the door, instantly feeling defensive, because I don’t know who is on the other side of it. Then someone knocks.

  They knock.

  Who the fuck is knocking on a door I don’t control?

  I throw my arms out, shaking my head, and they fall with a thud against my sides. “Uh, come in?”

  The door swings open to reveal my blue-eyed girl standing there, holding the key.

  She smiles and it hits me right in the center of my chest. “Hi.”

  I grin right back at her like an idiot. “What the hell did you knock for?”

  She cocks her head. “To be polite. Do you wanna get out of here?”

  I almost laugh. “Do you really need me to answer that?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Come with me but be quiet. I want to show you something.”

  “A little rebellion, huh? I like it. Let’s go.” My heart is thudding against my ribs when I step toward her, then I stop. “Wait, where’s Nikolai?”

  “He just left. He’ll be gone overnight.”

  “Kostya?”

  “That’s why you need to be quiet.”

  She’s sneaking me out.

  Nikolai’s gone and she’s sneaking me out for the night.

  I feel a rush of excitement jumpstart my senses in a way I haven’t felt since I was a teenager sneaking out of my foster parents’ house on a school night.

  My feet are moving without another thought. I meet her in the hallway, and she shuts and locks the door behind us. She wraps her fingers around my hand and squeezes, pulling
me forward as she strides down the hallway.

  I get this cold tingle running through my veins the moment her skin touches mine. It makes my spine prickle and rush all the good feelings I have about her low in my gut.

  She stops at the end of the hallway and looks over her shoulder at me, holding up a finger to her lips, telling me to keep my mouth shut without even saying a word.

  I zip my fingers across my lips and her eyes brighten, lingering on my mouth for an extra beat. I want to grab her and kiss her hard.

  We move forward together, quietly rushing down the grand staircase. We turn left at the bottom and move toward the east wing. She pauses as we’re about to pass the kitchen doorway and peeks her head in, pulling it right back out and jumping backward. Her backside runs right into the front of my body when she does this and I grab her just above the elbows. She turns her head to the side, and I see the blue of her eyes peeking out from the corners as she tries to look at me.

  “On my cue,” she whispers.

  “On my cue,” I joke, and she jabs her elbow backward into my gut.

  She peeks her head back into the kitchen and gives a quick nod. We walk quickly and quietly past. As soon as we reach the garden corridor, she gives me a quick look—an almost playful look I’ve never seen on her before—and takes off running.

  That one little lightning bolt of happiness she shows me takes on a life of its own, lassoing around me and tugging me along with her.

  I run after her.

  She leads us down past the pool and comes to a stop at a door to our right, opposite the cave-like alcove that leads to the pool entrance where Nikolai drowned her. She stops to unlock the door with one of the same keys she used to unlock my door.

  It opens onto a hallway. I step past the entry and she joins me, shutting and locking the door behind her. It wouldn’t stop Kostya or Nikolai from coming after us, but it would slow them down. I’m surprised I’m hardly thinking about what they’ll do if they find us sneaking around.

  I almost don’t care.

  We’re captives whether we behave or not, so fuck the rules. Especially if this tiny little rebellion can make her look this fucking happy.