Pierced

by Sydney Landon

  “It’s Sunday. Sam brought you home on Friday evening while I was here cleaning up. Other than me waking you for medicine, fluids, and um…the bathroom, you slept right through until this morning.”

  It’s unsettling to think of losing so much time. My last solid memories are of meetings with some of my development team in our New York office. I haven’t had the flu in years, and it completely kicked my ass. Sam had it last year and, truthfully, I’d wondered why it had taken him an entire week to recover. Hell, I understood now.

  I look across the counter at Lia, taking in her beautifully mussed appearance. Her long blonde hair is in a lopsided ponytail on the top of her head…in a bread tie? Her face, devoid of makeup, is flawless. Her blue eyes sparkle, framed by thick lashes, and my shirt collar hangs off one side, exposing the creamy flesh of her shoulder. Most women I know would never be seen in front of a man in less-than-perfect condition, but Lia doesn’t act self-conscious at all; actually, she looks completely comfortable. After seeing me at my worst for the last few days, she probably figures it doesn’t really fucking matter anymore, and I like that. Clearing my throat, I say, “Thank you for taking care of me. I…hope I didn’t ruin any plans you might have had.”

  She takes a sip of her orange juice, seeming pleased by my words. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help, and no, I didn’t have any plans. I usually spend the weekend studying, doing laundry, and visiting Debra if I have time.”

  “No big parties? Isn’t that the best part of college?” I tease.

  She shakes her head, and somehow I already know she isn’t a typical college student. “Nah, that’s not really my thing. I have gone to a few parties with Rose when she refused to take no for an answer, but I don’t enjoy that kind of thing. I’d rather curl up with a good book than watch a bunch of drunks making fools of themselves. I…didn’t have many friends growing up, so crowds kind of bother me.”

  The pain that crosses her face is impossible to miss. I find myself wanting to comfort her, wanting to kill the fucker who put that look there. “Tell me about your life growing up, Lia. Were there good times for you?” She looks agitated, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to forget my question when she starts talking.

  “Good times? No, there were none of those. There were moments that weren’t as bad as others. My real father was never in my life, and my mother spent her whole life reminding me of how I ruined everything for her. I don’t know why she didn’t just give me away; we would have both been better off.”

  Dreading the answer, I ask, “Did she beat you?”

  Lia shrugs her slim shoulders saying, “She smacked me around, slapped my face when she was angry, threatened me, insulted me. Just depended on her mood.”

  “What about your stepfather? Did he hit you?” I already knew the bastard had scarred her back.

  “He, um…threw things at me sometimes. Like beer cans, and he liked to slap my butt and insult me.”

  “And he never raped you?” Even though I have asked her this before, I need to clarify it. She is tiny and would have been so easy for someone to take advantage of, especially a drunk bastard like her stepfather.

  “No…I told you I took care of that.” She shuts her eyes, and I curse as a tear leaks out.

  “How, baby? How did you stop him?” I ask softly.

  She wipes her cheeks, turning her head away. “He was constantly insulting women who weren’t stick-thin. He rode my mother about her weight. He had…started making comments to me about my body and touching me in small ways at every opportunity. I knew what was coming unless I did something. So, I started to eat…to gorge, until I gained so much weight I barely recognized myself anymore. Kids at school made fun of me, but it worked. He was completely repulsed. I could handle all of his cruel jokes and insults if it meant he wouldn’t touch me in that way, and he didn’t. Eating myself half to death saved me. He and my mother sat around laughing, calling me every version of fat they could think of, but he wasn’t interested in…anything sexual with me. I saved myself.”

  I drop my head into my hands, not wanting her to see how her story moves me. What girl that age has to come up with ways to make sure the people who are supposed to protect her don’t violate her instead? My lonely life growing up without my parents suddenly pales in comparison to what she has faced. “How about the burn? How did that happen?”

  She shudders, and I feel like a bastard for making her talk about something so painful. “It was right before my mother kicked me out. They were fighting and I was doing the laundry. He was mad and drunk. I was using the iron when they came in and I set it down, trying to leave before they noticed me. He…somehow burnt his hand on it, and he was so mad. My mom ran out when he turned his attention to me.” A tear slips down her face as she continues. “He told me not to worry about him touching me, but that I needed something to remember who I belonged to. Co—Cows are branded by their owner. Oh, God, I just remember the smell, the awful smell. Then the pain; my whole body was on fire.”

  “Fuck,” I spit out, so angry on her behalf that I want to rip someone’s head off. And now her cunt of a mother wants to put her daughter right back in the line of fire again? I’ve already got my lawyer looking into it; now I plan to have my investigator find out more about the fuckers who put a poor, innocent girl through Hell. I pick up her hand, stroking the soft skin. “How did you make it this far on your own, baby?”

  She uses her other hand to wipe the moisture from her eyes before answering. “I applied to every college around during my last year of high school. I was offered a full scholarship to St. Claire’s and was just trying to make it at home until school started. I hadn’t really thought of all the other expenses outside of what was covered. When my mom kicked me out, I was lucky enough to meet Debra, who you spoke with on the phone, and get a job at a diner she owns. She and her boyfriend Martin helped me so much. I…worked there and lived in my car to save money for school.”

  My stomach flops, and I feel bile rising as I gape at her. “You lived in your car? I thought you said they helped you. How is that help?” I know my voice is rising when she flinches away. I lower it, fighting for control. “Honey, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand.”

  “Debra asked me to stay with her;” she says quietly, “but I…just didn’t trust anyone at that point. I had the car I had bought from her, and at least it was mine. I spent a lot of time at the library and the break room at work, so I wasn’t really living in the car. When school finally started, all my savings went so fast. Debra tried to loan me money, but again, I just couldn’t take it. My roommate told me about Date Night where she was working, and well…you know the rest.”

  Indeed, I fucking do, and it makes me furious on her behalf all over again. I am stunned to know all she has gone through. It’s amazing she has made it to her last year in college, all on her own, after living in a fucking car. “Have you seen or heard from your mother since you left, or your stepfather?” She shakes her head slowly.

  “No, I don’t know how they found me; I’ve been so careful to stay away from areas I know they frequent. St. Claire’s is miles away from where they live, and I’ve never known them to have any business around here.”

  “Honey, thanks to the internet, finding someone is nothing anymore.” She looks terrified at my words, and I scramble to reassure her. “I don’t want you to worry about them, okay? I have my people on this. If you do have to go to court, you’ll be well-protected, and you’ll have someone there to watch out for your interests.”

  She squeezes my hand back, looking so fragile in that moment. “Thank you, Luc. I’m sorry to put this on you. This probably wasn’t what you were expecting when you asked me out.” She is right about that, but in a different way than she means. She is so much more than I was expecting, and I’m freaking reeling from it. Her story, though different, is eerily familiar to me. The need to protect her is overwhelming. The lines between her and my past are blurred further as I’m drawn t
o her, fucking lost in my desire for her.

  When she stands to start cleaning up the kitchen, I silently collect our plates and help her load the dishwasher. When we are finished, I take her hand and tug her back toward the bedroom. “Come rest with me for a while.” She settles next to me without protest, and I pull the comforter over us. I’m still too tired to touch her like I want, so instead, I settle for curving my body around hers, shuddering as she tucks her tight ass against my groin. I push up my shirt she is wearing and feather my fingers over her stomach. The sound of her soft breathing lulls me into sleep. When I wake in the evening, she is gone, leaving a note on the pillow saying she has gone home to get ready for school tomorrow. The smell of her scent on the pillow beside me makes me feel something I haven’t admitted to feeling in a while: lonely.

  Chapter Ten

  Lia

  As I sit through my last class of the morning, I accept the simple truth: I’m dying. There is no other explanation for it. My throat is on fire, my body aches, and my head is pounding. I’m barely able to keep myself upright in my chair. When I woke this morning, I was tired. I blamed it on worrying about Luc all night and not sleeping well. Now, I think it’s something more. This isn’t simple fatigue; I suspect it’s the flu. Spending almost three days in constant close proximity with someone contagious was not my brightest moment. The flu shot isn’t going to save me this time; I can only hope it shortens the duration as it promises to.

  When the class ends, I close my eyes for a moment, trying to gather the strength to walk home. Oh, dear God, how far away am I? Squaring my shoulders, I stumble to my feet and sway for a moment before catching myself. I can do this…I have no choice. It’s a painfully slow process, but I make my way through the hallway and outside. The fresh air on my face revives me only slightly but also sends a shiver through my body. I know I’m running a fever; I feel it burning through my body.

  I have no idea how long it takes me, but I finally make it to my apartment. The stairs are sheer Hell, and I have to stop every few steps. Finally, a few from the top, I give into the urge to crawl. The door is another struggle, but soon the keys are in the lock and its opening. I have no idea if it even closes behind me; at this point, no one could do anything worse to me than what I’m already feeling. I face-plant onto my bed, and that is all I know. Dimly, I’m aware of something chiming over and over, but I’m too out of it to care. Surely, someone will answer the damn phone at some point.

  Something cool touches my face and I gasp in shock. My eyes are blurry as I try to focus. Someone is bashing my skull and I moan, wanting to beg for mercy. “Baby, can you hear me?” Despite the fog surrounding me, I know that voice and turn instinctively toward it. “Lia, baby, wake up.” He sounds upset and even in my state, I am worried about him.

  As my eyes blink open, I see Lucian bending over me, concern etched deeply in his face. Behind him is…Sam? Where am I and what are they doing here? “Sick…” I mumble the obvious.

  “Baby, I know you are. I’m going to take you home now. Just try to hold on to me, okay? Let me know if you need to stop.” I groan as Lucian puts his hands under me, gently lifting me into his arms. I am surprised to see a shocked-looking Rose and Jake standing just outside my bedroom door as Lucian carries me past. He stops and says something to them I don’t catch, and they nod before he walks on. At least their presence answers one question: we are at my apartment.

  Lucian takes each step slowly as I lay weakly against him. When we reach the sidewalk, Sam runs ahead and opens the back door of the Mercedes. I have no idea how he does it, but Lucian manages to slide in the seat without releasing his hold on me. As my teeth start chattering, he pulls me closer, folding me against his chest and wrapping his suit jacket around me as best he can. “Where?” I say against his throat, but he seems to know what I’m asking.

  “I’m taking you home with me. Fuck, you about gave me a heart attack. I’ve been calling and texting you for hours and you weren’t answering. When you didn’t show at the apartment either, I knew something was wrong. I was afraid…”

  As out of it as I am, I know what he was worried about; he was afraid my stepfather had harmed me. “S’ok…I got sick during class. Don’t know how I made it home.”

  “When I got to your apartment, your roommate was freaking out. You left the front door open, your keys were in the lock, and your purse was lying on the floor. She was fixing to call the police, because she thought someone had either taken you or had you inside. Sam and I found you passed out on the bed, burning the fuck up. It’s the first time I’ve ever been grateful someone had the flu, because the alternative would have been so much worse.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. His strong body is tense beneath my hands as I try to soothe him. I don’t know why he’s so upset, but I feel guilty for doing this to him. He doesn’t answer; he just pulls me closer and rests his chin against the top of my head. I drift as the car moves quietly through the night. If I know nothing else, I know Lucian will take care of me.

  When we reach his apartment, despite my weak protests, he again carries me. Sam opens the door before asking which room Lucian is taking me to. “My room,” Lucian answers and Sam walks ahead, turning a bedside lamp on as Lucian deposits me gently on the edge. Sam leaves and returns with a glass of water and a bottle of medicine. Lucian coaxes a couple down my throat and I choke on the water before catching my breath. “Sam, you can go now. I think we still have enough supplies here.”

  “All right, Luc. Could you call me later and let me know how Miss Lia is doing?” When Lucian agrees, Sam walks out of the bedroom, and I slump backwards on the bed.

  “Just kill me now,” I groan; at this point, death would be a welcome respite. Just as I feel myself starting to drift off again, Lucian is pulling me back up into a sitting position as I feebly try to push him away.

  “Come on, baby; let me get you into something more comfortable, and you can go to sleep.”

  Opening one eye, I peer up at him. “If you think you’re getting sex, you are out of your mind.” I sound like someone fresh off a two-week drunk. He looks down at me, seeming to be trying to contain the smile pulling at his lips.

  “I’ll try to control myself until you are upright. Now, just sit there and let me get you changed.” Like a child, I let him lift my arms, pulling off my shirt and despite my weak protests, my bra follows next. He puts one of his soft t-shirts over my head before kneeling at my feet to remove my shoes and pants. Thankfully, he leaves my panties on, although at this point, I wouldn’t have fought for them. He pulls back the covers and tucks me in on his side of the bed. I inhale appreciatively as his scent clings to the pillow. He asks if I need anything, but I wave him away, only wanting to sleep. I wonder for a moment why I’m here. Why would he want to take care of me? Maybe just returning the favor. My thoughts spin away as sleep once again claims me.

  I moan as something cool strokes across my cheeks. “Feels so good,” I groan. When a straw slips between my dry lips, I drink greedily; the feel of the cold liquid against my throat is Heaven. When the straw is pulled away, I reach out, trying to bring it back.

  “Not too much, baby; it might make you sick.” Oh, that voice. Shivers run down my spine as I blink my eyes open to see a casual Lucian sitting beside me, tousled hair and a five o’clock shadow darkening his handsome face. I want to climb him like a tree and eat him up. He looks down at me for a moment, giving me a sexy grin; he seems to know exactly what I’m thinking. He curls a strand of my blonde hair around his finger, asking, “How’re you feeling?”

  I lie there for a moment, taking stock of my body. The throbbing in my head is down to a dull thud, and my throat, although dry and scratchy, is no longer sore. I still feel like I’ve been run over by a car, but it’s progress. “Better,” I croak out around the cotton in my mouth. He gives me another sip of what I recognize as ginger ale. “How long have I been in bed?” It’s a strange feeling to lose awareness of day and time, and I’m desperate t
o fill in the blanks.

  “I picked you up Monday afternoon, and now it’s Wednesday morning, so not too long.”

  “Oh, shit,” I try to jump from the bed. “I’ve got a class this morning, a test…I’ve got to go.” Lucian puts a hand on my chest, effectively holding me down. Just that small amount of effort has winded me, and I lie back against the pillow exhausted.

  “Not today, Lia. You’re still too weak to go anywhere. We’ll see tomorrow after another day in bed and some food.”

  Giving him my best innocent look, I say, “Maybe you could just take me home then? I can rest there, and I’ll be closer to school in the morning.”

  He tweaks my nose playfully saying, “Good try, but no. You’ll just crawl to your class if you are close enough. I’m afraid you’re here today.”

  My bottom lip rolls out and to my horror, I’m pouting. “Don’t you have to go to work? I can be at home alone just as well as I can here.”

  “I do have to go in for a meeting this morning,” he admits, “but then I’ll work from home the rest of the day as I did yesterday.” Surprised, I turn to stare at him.

  “You stayed home with me yesterday?” Is it my imagination or does he look uncomfortable at the question?

  “Well, I could hardly bring you home with me and then leave you, could I?” Suddenly, images of how I had taken care of him run through my mind. Oh, dear God, surely he hasn’t taken me to the bathroom. I can’t remember anyone ever doing such personal things for me.