by Megan Hart
Tori looked at the portraits on the wall. "What happened to her? How did she end up in the chair?”
"An accident."
His tone of voice had changed. Gone flat. Distant.
Tori turned to face him. "What kind of accident?"
"The kind that should have killed her." In the dusty dim light, Luka's eyes flashed bright green. "Only it didn't."
She thought about the bowls in the kitchen. "What happened to Rusty?"
"Something in the woods got him," Luka replied without so much as flinch.
She remembered the pile of rocks and the single red rose. "Did you bury him out there?"
"No. There wasn't enough of him left."
She looked at him. "Did whatever's out there in the woods have something to do with your mother's accident?"
"No."
Tori looked down at the baby. "I worry that something will happen to me, and Rose will be left alone."
Luka's big hand caressed the baby's head. His fingers brushed Tori's breasts, but if he did that on purpose to cop a feel, his expression wasn't giving anything away. A small thrill rippled through her at the touch, but she made sure her own expression didn't reveal that.
She put a few steps distance between them. Tori lifted her chin toward the old woman's portrait, set at a distance from her sons'. "She was beautiful."
"She is beautiful," Luka said. "So are you."
"That's the sort of thing someone tells you when they want something from you," Tori replied.
"Is it?"
She nodded. "What do you want from me, Luka?"
"Maybe I don't want to take anything from you. Maybe I want to give you something."
She faced him. "What do you want to give me?"
"A new life."
For a long, long few moments, Tori could not find a voice to answer him. Her throat closed. She coughed, uncertain she would find the words to answer him. Not sure until she spoke what she might even be able to say. "I think I could use a new life, to be honest. But I have no idea how you think you'll give it to me."
A figure loomed in the doorway. "Luka. Mother wants you. Both of you."
Tori couldn't see who it was; she supposed it didn't matter. They were all so alike, and Luka was the only one who bothered to really interact with her at all. Without another word to her, Luka left the room, and after a moment's hesitation, Tori followed.
"Here, this is for you," Mother said when Tori came into the room. She gestured with one hand, the other still resting on the planchette, at the carved wooden bassinet. "I had Declan bring it out of the basement for you. Micah cleaned it. Jackson put fresh bedding in it. You can place the baby in it to help give you a rest. All of my children used it when they were babies."
Tori eyed the bassinet, which looked old but not dangerous, the way she'd heard old cribs could be. "Thank you."
"I remember how tiring it could be to carry a child around all day, especially while still recovering from the birth. You're our guest here, and it behooves us to make your stay as comfortable as possible." Mother settled her fingertips back on the planchette, which swung immediately toward the YES.
"Thank you," Tori's stomach rumbled and, surprised, she put a hand flat on it.
"You're hungry," Mother said. "You should eat."
Tori frowned. "I just ate."
"Your body has gone through so much. You need to nourish it. Luka will bring you some soup, I think. Yes?"
Soup sounded delicious. Tori's stomach rumbled again. "Sure, thank you."
"Put the baby in the bassinet and sit, my dear girl. Give your arms a rest. Enjoy your food." Mother flicked her fingers toward Luka, who was lingering in the dining room. "Didn't you hear me? Our guest would like something to eat!"
"He doesn't have to serve me," Tori said quickly with a glance at him.
Declan had been sitting in the chair next to Mother's, and now he laughed under his breath, the sound without humor. Mother rapped the table hard enough to make the planchette leap on the Ouija board. Declan shrugged and looked away from her, catching Tori's glance for a few seconds. His flat gaze sent a shiver down her spine.
"Go get more wood for the fire," Mother told him. "Make yourself useful."
Without a word, Declan followed Luka from the room. After a hesitation, keeping the bassinet close to her, Tori settled Rose into it with a sigh of relief for her stiff, aching back. The baby complained for a second or so before going quiet. She was alert, but content when Tori took the chair at the end of the table.
Her stomach rumbled again, and this time she put both her hands on it, pressing lightly. Embarrassed. She had to swallow against an uprush of saliva as the smell of something delicious drifted to her from the hallway.
"Where are the others?" Tori asked to make conversation.
Mother tilted her head to stare at her. Beneath her fingers, the planchette spun lazily. "Perhaps they're chopping wood. Perhaps they're taking naps. Or reading books. Or doing the things boys do when they're alone."
They were far from being boys, all of them, but even so Tori didn't want to think about what those things might be. Luka brought in a tray. A huge bowl of soup and a smaller plate next to it, a thick cut slice of crusty bread smeared with butter. Her stomach rumbled again.
"Be careful," Mother said, watching her. "Don't burn your tongue."
Tori wanted to hesitate, to be careful, to at least have the manners Mother had already accused her of not having, but she was so fiercely ravenous she could not stop herself from dipping the spoon into the soup and drinking a long mouthful. It was so good, so fucking good, thick and rick with broth and salt and vegetables, that she groaned aloud. Bite after bite, the spoon too small to get the food into her fast enough, she drank. She lifted the bowl and drank directly from it, stopping herself only at the sight of Mother's face.
Instead of chastisement, the old woman offered encouragement. "Yes, yes. Eat. You need your strength."
Tori sat back in the chair to take a breath. The soup had taken the edge off her hunger, but she wanted more. As though he'd already guessed that, Luka appeared with a platter of sliced cold chicken. Seasoned noodles. More bread and butter. Green beans.
Tori gobbled, using her fingers, shoving the food in so fast she could barely keep up. Chewing. Moaning at the burst of flavors on her tongue.
She couldn't remember the last time food had brought her such pleasure. She dug into another helping of chicken, more noodles, she swiped the bread through the sauce of seasoning and melted butter left behind on the plate.
She gorged.
With her belly distended, Tori sat back in the chair and stifled a long, rumbling burp with the back of her hand. She laughed, certain Mother would scold. The old woman laughed gently. The planchette tipped toward YES.
"In my day, it simply didn't do for a young woman to consume anything with such enthusiasm. Not food, nor other things." Mother's grin stretched over those square, unnaturally white teeth. "Fortunately, I had the guidance of the board to assure me that no matter how...fierce...my appetites, I should be free to pursue them."
"I haven't eaten like that in years." Tori burped again, softer this time. "Excuse me."
Mother gave a sharp glance toward the door, where Luka loomed in silence. "What are you doing? I've told you before, stop lurking. Be useful! Clear away these dishes!"
With all the food in her belly, Tori could barely move, but she got up from the table. "I can help."
"Don't be silly. You should rest." Mother snapped another glance toward her youngest son. "What are you looking at?"
He was looking at Tori. She could feel it, the heavy weight of his green gaze, and she turned to meet it with her own. Men had looked at her with lust, sometimes. With anger. A few, with fear. None of them had ever looked at her the way Luka was right now.
She had no idea what that unwavering gaze meant, but she couldn't even begin to think about it before a yawn stretched her jaws so wide she heard the creak and crackle of
her tendons. "I think I need to go upstairs now, though. Maybe take a nap."
"Of course, of course. The boys have brought in enough wood to keep the house warm, but I'll have Luka bring you extra blankets. The upstairs can get chilly, and it looks as though the snow's going to continue all night. Enjoy your nap. Are you sure..." Mother's voice turned eager, her gaze intense. "Are you certain you wouldn't like to leave baby Rose here in the bassinet while you sleep? It might make it so much easier for you to rest. We wouldn't at all mind watching her for you."
No matter how tempting the idea of uninterrupted sleep was, Tori still had no intention of leaving her infant alone with these strangers. Having the baby close to her was a comfort, despite the aches and pains and exhaustion. She declined with a murmur and left the dining room. In the bedroom, voices drifted upward through the large ventilation grate set into the floor next to the dresser.
"What does the board say, Mother?" asked one of the brothers. She could only tell it wasn't Luka.
Mother's voice rasped. "You never mind what the board says. That's for me to worry on. Doesn't Mother always take care of everything?"
"Yes, Mother," muttered a chorus of male voices.
Fucking pack of weirdos, Tori thought. She cleaned herself and Rose in the bathroom and then climbed into bed to nurse while she fell asleep.
It took her longer than she'd expected, considering how tired she was. Her stomach was too full. So was her head.
She thought of Luka. He'd saved her life, and her child's life too. But that didn't mean anything, not in the grand scheme, no matter what offer he'd made in that mausoleum of a living room. Did it? It didn't make them anything more than strangers who had the fortune of stumbling across one another's paths.
Even with the extra blankets, she was still cold. Tori went to the dresser pushed beneath the window and yanked open the top drawer looking for something to put on over the borrowed nightgown she hadn't asked for. The top three drawers were empty, but in the bottom she found a faded, wrinkled snapshot. Out of focus, yellowed on the back where once it had been pressed against the sticky pages of a photo album. The baby in the picture, she couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl, was held in strong male arms, and the man’s face was out of the shot. She searched for a name or date and found nothing, but she stared at it for a long time.
She looked at her sleeping infant in the bed.
She thought of a small pair of yellow, footed pajamas and a bassinet.
She thought of Luka and how easily he'd carried the baby.
Standing, Tori glanced through the sheer curtains to the yard below. The wind whipped at the trees, and the outside lights cast a yellow circle of light into the yard, not quite reaching the woods.
Luka was out there, trudging through the snow. He followed a path that had already been made, although most of it was filled in with what had kept coming down. She watched him disappear into the forest.
She thought about a small pile of stones and a flower.
Her stomach clenched. Her throat convulsed. A chill sweat broke out, dotting her forehead and slipping like tickling fingers down her spine. Tori groaned under her breath, wishing she hadn't been so indulgent at the table.
It would have been so easy to relieve this pressure. The press of her palms in the right spot on her stomach. A little effort. She'd done it hundreds, if not thousands, of times.
She could not, would not. She needed to stay strong and healthy for Rose. She was not going to fall back into those old patterns of binging and purging.
She wasn't going to let herself be that girl, any more.
14
Pleasure.
Oh, how long had it been since she'd felt anything like this? Slow, smooth strokes of wet heat against her, between her thighs, hitting that magic spot that usually only she managed to find. Desire curled inside her, steadily building. Tori arched into it, opening herself.
Be careful, Little Bit.
A voice interrupting all of this was bad enough, but that it was her father's voice made it so much worse. It pushed away what was happening, so Tori ignored the warnings and pulled the pleasure closer. Grabbed it. Held on tight.
She swam in waves of ecstasy. She smelled the sea, something rich and salty and full of life. The thrum of it filled her ears and pulled at her pulse, the beat of her heart, the rising throb between her thighs.
So much blood.
So much.
Blood.
There'd been pain first, but not a lot. It was the blood, finally, that had tipped her off that something was truly wrong. Her fingers, slick with it. The urge to push, inevitable, undeniable. Once started, she could not stop.
It was nothing like this was, and yet exactly the same. A rising need that could not be controlled. Would not be denied. Her body, clenching and tightening, ready for release. Her fingers gripped the bed sheets as her hips lifted.
Open your eyes, Little Bit. This isn't a dream.
She was not going to open her eyes, especially if it wasn't a dream. There'd been too much pain in her life. She was not going to give up this pleasure now, not even with the rising unease knocking at her thoughts.
Hands slid beneath her, lifting to a feasting mouth, a swiping tongue, and oh, God, that was it. She was going over. She was tipping, tilting, crazy mad insane, over the edge and diving deep. Another wash of that smell came to her. Something thick and heavy, salty, but no longer so much like the ocean.
It was blood. The smell of it had lingered around her for long enough now that she understood it and knew where it was coming from. Her orgasm rushed through her. Her womb clenched as her body bore down again in a parody of that night in the storage room. That had been agony; this was the opposite and even so, the steady cadence of the words kept up their pace in her mind.
Blood. Blood. So much blood.
Oh God. She was bleeding. Someone was making her come with his mouth, and she was still bleeding down there. Tori's eyes snapped open as another set of contractions ripped through her. Her climax left her without a voice, and she gasped. Her fingers dug deeper into the sheets. She had time to think about the baby, where was the baby? And once more, she came, this time so hard the world spun out underneath her and all she could hear was the rush and roar of waves that drowned out her father's voice.
In the aftermath she was left boneless and weak. She tried to remember the last time she'd come so fiercely, and didn't think she ever had. Her mind no longer whirled but instead stuck like an ungreased cog in a clock trying hard but unable to chime.
She got her eyes open and struggled upright. The blankets had been tossed aside, leaving her exposed to the chilly air. She wasn't naked, but her nightgown had been pushed up to just beneath her breasts. The front of the gown was stained with milk leaking steadily from her nipples. She looked for the blood, certain her entire belly and thighs would be painted with it, but her skin was clean. She put a hand over her mound, tentatively, letting her fingers drift lower. Wetness. Her muscles twitched at the touch, a memory of the pleasure. When she brought them up to eye level, they were only faintly pink.
Tori shuddered at the thought of someone kneeling between her legs, lapping at her. Sickened as much by that as the remaining weakness left behind by the force of her orgasm, she curled up next to Rose and listened to the baby's soft, in-out breathing. She stroked the tiny pink cheeks with a fingertip, feeling guilty even though she knew she had no reason to.
It was just a dream, brought on by weird circumstances and maybe hormones, she told herself. Hell, just because she felt like she'd never want a man to touch her again didn't mean her body didn't have desires, and having desires didn't make her an awful person or a bad mother. It wasn't like she'd invited someone into her bed right next to her kid. It wasn't like she'd stood by and watched without saying a word while a man used her daughter the way Tori had been used.
"Never, ever, Little Bit. I will never let anything happen to you." Tori gathered Rose close, looking down into the
baby's face.
Slowly, as though she weren't quite sure what she was doing, Rose twisted her tiny mouth into a smile. Tori had no idea what sorts of milestones babies were expected to meet, but surely Rose was too young to smile. Wasn't she? Yet there it was, a broad and contented grin, followed by a gurgling coo of happiness.
Maybe she was going to be ok at this mothering thing after all.
15
Three days had passed since the last storm began, and although there had been breaks in the snowfall, it always started up again. Tori had no idea how to accurately gauge how much had come down, but when Luka and his brothers ventured outside, in some places the drifts reached to their hips.
The power had gone out a few times before finally staying dark, but there were plenty of candles and even a few camping lamps. The men kept the fireplace in the dining room roaring. Meals were served three times a day on a regular schedule, enough food to feed an army, and while she might have had a rocky relationship with food in her past, Tori had no problem cleaning off every plate she was served.
Rose was getting fatter, her little belly firming up and the sweet pink cheeks becoming chubby. Tori's milk had come in so abundantly that Rose had started falling off the breast, slack-lipped and sated, before she'd emptied Tori's supply. The result was an enormous, engorged bosom and perpetually leaking nipples. Tori had taken to standing on shaking legs over the bathroom sink, gripping the porcelain while the baby slept on a bed of towels on the floor behind her, as her milk released and swirled down the drain. She had no way to store or save it, but the loss of it felt horribly wasteful every time.
She'd tried to keep to herself as much as possible, but the boredom of staying alone in the tiny, chilly bedroom had sent her downstairs soon enough. Mother never seemed to leave the dining room, and between meals, her sons brought out battered board games they set up and fell upon with the enthusiasm of those used to suffering through being snowed in. Clue, of all things, was the favorite.
"Miss Scarlet in the dining room with the poison," Declan said now.
