Number Thirteen

by Bella Jewel

  I place my hand on his side, and I run it down. I reach his hips and I slide my fingertips over his skin, loving how smooth it is. I can feel him, hard and pulsing, against my belly. I want to give him something. I want to taste him.

  I lick my lips and look up at him. He’s watching me, his expression tight with want. I decide to take the chance, and I slowly lower my body.

  “Emelyn,” he rasps.

  “I want to,” I breathe, pressing a kiss to his stomach, enjoying how his muscles bunch against my lips.

  Then I move lower.

  I feel his erection slide against my cheek, and my entire body shudders. I turn my head, feeling the soft skin slide against mine. It’s nice. I raise my hand and curl it around the hard, throbbing length. He groans, and I can’t help the silly grin that appears on my face. I lower my head, snaking my tongue out and running it over the crown. He sucks in a deep, ragged breath, and his hands fist in the sheets beside him.

  “Emelyn,” he groans.

  I part my lips, and slide my mouth over him. His hips jerk, and his breathing becomes ragged. My heart pounds as I slide my mouth up and down, not entirely sure what I’m doing. I reach a hand up, and I wrap it around the base, stroking gently but firmly. From the sounds coming out of William’s mouth, I guess I’m doing the right thing. So I keep going.

  His fingers come up and tangle into my hair, using it to control my sucking. My groin clenches as I continue to work him, coating him in my saliva. I dare to be different, and slip my hand down and cup the heavy, soft package beneath his cock. The moment I give them a little squeeze, his body goes ramrod straight and he bellows my name.

  “Emelyn,” he groans. “Stop, baby, I’m going to...oh, God...come...”

  His words have me shivering with need, and I know I don’t want to pull away. I want to feel him; I want to taste him the way he’s tasted me. I keep sucking, keep rolling him in my palm, and keep squeezing his shaft. His back bows and his moans become throaty as I feel him beginning to tighten in my mouth. His entire cock swells, and then, seconds later, he explodes.

  His come hits my tongue in one hard gush. I swallow it down, groaning in complete satisfaction as he continues to release. His growls of pleasure are enough to make me want to do this forever and never stop. He gently slides himself from my mouth and takes me under the arms, pulling me up and over his body. My face buries into his neck and I breathe him in. He strokes his fingers over my hair.

  “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, Emelyn.”

  I close my eyes, nestling in further. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “You made a mistake William, and you accepted it. It’s okay.”

  “I let my jealously get the better of me. I acted before I thought. I was wrong, Beauty...”

  I kiss his neck and he shivers. “It’s finished.”

  He makes a rumbling sound that I feel radiate through my body. Then he continues to stroke my hair for a long few minutes before murmuring, “You need to go and get some rest.”

  I nod against his chest. “Yes sir.”

  He chuckles softly, and helps me out of the bed. We dress together, just watching each other. When I reach his door, he leans down and kisses me softly before watching me disappear down the hall.

  If I weren’t just a number, if I weren’t just a broken girl, if I weren’t trapped by my own memories, I would say that moment was so...

  Normal.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  “How long do you think he’s going to keep us here?” Number Twelve asks as we walk down the hall the next morning, our arms full of washing.

  “I really don’t know. I don’t even think he knows. He has us here for whatever reason, but I’m not sure letting us go is big on his list right now.”

  “Surely he can’t have just stolen thirteen girls. Where did he get us from? Do you think we have families looking for us?”

  I shake my head. “No, I honestly don’t. I think William saved us somehow.”

  “Maybe,” she says.

  We round the corner, and stop dead when we see William’s father, Peter. He’s standing against the wall, staring at us with a hard expression on his face. He narrows his eyes and stares down at our hands for a minute before returning his glare to our faces. Did he overhear us? My heart begins to pound. If he knew what William was doing here, he’d make his life a living hell.

  “Peter,” I say, straightening. “Does William know you’re here?”

  He narrows his eyes again. Something doesn’t feel right.

  “What’s your name, girl?”

  I stare at Number Twelve, and she’s staring at the floor, nervously.

  “Emelyn,” I say, as firmly as I can.

  “And you?” he growls.

  Number Twelve doesn’t answer. Her hands begin to shake, and I know she’s nervous.

  “Her name is Samantha,” I lie.

  “Why have you got numbers tattooed on your hands?”

  I feel my em"

  heart beginning to pound. He must have overheard us. It’s the only reason he would ask so many questions. I feel sick to my stomach as I try hard to come up with an explanation for the odd numbers on our hands. Surprisingly, it’s Number Twelve who speaks. “It was a silly prank when we were younger.”

  Peter stares at her, then back to me, then back to her before muttering, “Whatever, where’s William?”

  My breath leaves my mouth in a whoosh. He doesn’t know. He would make more of a scene if he suspected us.

  “He’s in his office.”

  He walks past us without answering. I let my shoulders slump and I turn to Number Twelve. “Are you okay?”

  She nods. “Do you think he heard us?”

  I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Emelyn!”

  I hear Ben’s voice and I spin around to see him striding down the hall, a huge grin on his face. I can’t help but smile at him. He stops in front of us, smiling down, his face always a mask of happiness.

  “How are you, angel?”

  I beam. “I’m well, Ben, thanks.”

  He turns his eyes to Number Twelve and they noticeably soften. “And who’s this lovely lady?”

  I turn to Number Twelve to see her staring at him in shock. She must know he looks exactly like William; she obviously never paid attention at dinner. Her hands are trembling and her cheeks are pink as she takes him in. He grins down at her, clearly flattered.

  “Do you have a name, beautiful?”

  Her cheeks flame even harder, and she blinks up at him. “Ah, S-S-Samantha,” she says, copying the name I just gave their father.

  “Sam,” he purrs. “Beautiful. I’m Ben, William’s brother. Twin, in case you didn’t notice already.”

  She nods, tucking a strand of her dark-red hair behind her ears. Ben winks at her, and I can almost feel the sexual tension in the air.

  “Anyway, I would love to stay with you ladies and chat, but I have to find Will and do some business. Maybe later?”

  “Later, Ben.” I smile.

  “B-b-bye,” Number Twelve whispers.

  He grins at her one last time, before disappearing around the corner. I turn to her, unable to stop the little giggle coming from my throat. “You should have seen your face.”

  “You never told me William had a twin brother.”

  “I didn’t know you wanted to know.”

  She flushes. “I wanted to know.”

  I smile and tuck my arm through hers. “Well, now you know.”

  ~*~*~*~

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  “You’re sick,” William murmurs, stroking my damp hair from my forehead.

  “Just a cold,” I croak.

  My head is pounding. My entire body is trembling and I feel so sick I just want to curl up and die, but I don’t want William to worry.

  “That’s a lie,” he says, standing straight and pulling out his phone.

  A moment later he’s ordering someone to br
ing soup, painkillers, and water. He turns back to me and presses the back of his hand against my cheek. Frowning, he pulls my blankets back.

  “William,” I groan.

  “You have a fever, you shouldn’t be really warmReal8217;t b12;it will make it worse.”

  “But...” I begin.

  He puts up his hand. “Trust me, Beauty. I will make sure you’re well.”

  I hear a soft knock at the door and lift my head off the soft pillow to see Number One walking into the room. She stares at me, gives me a weak smile, and then places a tray down. “George told me to bring this in,” she says quickly.

  “Thank you, Number One.”

  William doesn’t look at her as he speaks, but he does smile. She nods and leaves the room. William opens the tray and brings a bowl of soup over, sitting beside the bed. I give him a wobbly smile. It seems odd someone like William would open himself like this to me, allowing me to see the gentle that’s inside.

  “Have you got a supply of chicken soup?”

  He flashes me a panty-dropping grin. Even sick, I want to reach over and kiss him.

  “I enjoy soup.”

  “Chicken soup?”

  His grin gets bigger. “Well, this week it was your lucky week.”

  “And now you’re going to feed it to me?” I giggle softly.

  “You’re sick. Let me help.”

  I smile, feeling my eyes burn. “I don’t think anyone has ever taken care of me.”

  His eyes soften and he strokes my cheek before scooping up a spoonful of soup and popping it into my mouth. It’s salty, and warm, and it tastes divine. I groan as it burns down my throat, but a moment later I feel the aches in my body ease as the warmth fills it.

  “After this, have a shower and then sleep for the day. It’s the best thing you can do.”

  I nod, too tired to argue. William finishes up feeding me and helps me into the shower, and then he tells me he’s got to go and spend time with the other girls. This warms me, and I can’t help but love that he’s taking time out to spend time with the girls. He needs to build something up with them, something that gives them a reason to see him for something other than a monster.

  With a stroke of my hair, and a kiss to my head, he leaves to do just that.

  ~*~*~*~

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  I stare out the window, smiling, feeling my skin prickle as I watch William involving himself in a volleyball game in the yard. All the girls are out there, and they’re all getting into it, laughing and giggling as they play. It didn’t start out like that. When he first took them out there, they were hesitant. They stood back, watching, carefully playing but having no fun. Then slowly he managed to coax them out.

  Now they’re all laughing and enjoying themselves, and so is he. He’s wearing a pair of old faded running pants and a sweatshirt. He looks normal, just a man enjoying the company of some friends. They’re relishing in him, clearly enjoying being able to spend time with him. I can’t blame them. When you get inside William, he’s amazing. He’s so complicated yet utterly loving and caring.

  I’m smiling, just staring out the window, high on painkillers.

  I don’t notice them come in, but suddenly, there they are.

  Cops. Heaps of them.

  I skid my chair back and press my face to the glass, and I watch the gates slide open and six cars skid to a stop. The girls all huddle together, and their hands clasp as they stare with pale faces at the police barreling out of the cars. William walks forward, the cops bark something at him, he shakes his head, and hih1> then suddenly he’s on the floor, a large cop hovering over him, jerking his hands behind his back.

  I scream, and run from the room.

  It takes me a full five minutes to get out of the house, and by the time I skid out, the cops are taking the girls, pulling them away from each other and gently leading them to the cars. I run towards them, my head pounding, my ears screaming. I feel so sick, but my panic far outweighs it. I come to a complete halt when I reach the first car, and I spin towards a police officer.

  “What are you here for?” I cry.

  The cop looks down at my hand, and then yells, “Another one. Search the house—make sure there are none left.”

  “What?” I yell as he takes my arm. “Let me go.”

  He pulls me towards a car, and I turn my gaze to William. He’s face down in the dirt, his eyes on me. My heart breaks, and I shove out of the officer’s arms, charging towards him.

  “William!” I cry.

  “Get hold of her,” one of the police officers barks. “Now!”

  “No,” I scream as another hand wraps around my arm, pulling me back. “William.”

  William lifts his head, staring into my eyes. “It’s okay, Beauty. It’s going to be okay. Go.”

  “No,” I cry, feeling tears tumble down my cheeks. “I won’t leave you.”

  “It’s okay,” he croaks again.

  “I knew it!”

  I twist around to see Peter coming in, his face red and his hands clenched. It was him; I knew it was him. Ben is behind him, his eyes wide, and his face a complete mask of shock.

  “Will?” Ben asks, when he stops next to the police officer holding William down.

  “I told you, Benjamin,” Peter growls. “I knew something was off. He’s buying women and using them as sex slaves!”

  “What?” I scream. “No, he isn’t!”

  “William,” the officer begins, “you’re under arrest for the abduction and assault of these women. You are not required to say anything, but anything you do say will be held against you in the court of law.”

  “No!” I scream, twisting. “Ben, please, they’ve gotten it wrong.”

  Ben’s eyes turn to me, and I can see the confusion in them. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “I...I don’t...I...but...he’s not hurting us, Ben.”

  Ben looks down at William. “Tell me this isn’t true.”

  William says nothing. The officer pulls me towards a car, and my panic sets in. I fight, twisting and screaming. Tears soak my cheeks as I try to get closer to William.

  “Please,” I beg. “Don’t take me away. He’s all I have.”

  “Miss, if you will get in the car we will make sure you’re safe.”

  “No,” I wail. “Please.”

  “I’m sorry, miss,” the officer says, opening the car door and pushing me down towards the empty seat.

  “No! Ben,” I screech, turning to Ben. “Please.”

  “I’m sorry, Emelyn. I can’t do anything until I know what’s happening here.”

  I hiccup, and turn to William. He’s watching me, his face a mask of pain.

  “I love you,” I whisper as the officer shoves me into the car. “I’m sorry.”

  I crumble into the seat as the door slams. I pull my kn. I20;I ees up to my chest and I sob crazily until I feel the car pulling away.

  “It’s okay,” the officer says. “You’re safe now.”

  I’ll never be safe again without him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  “Can you tell me what your name is?” the officer asks.

  I’m sitting in an interview room, staring at my hands. I’m empty. I can’t feel anything. I don’t know where William is, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I know is that they’ve ripped me out of my world, and they’re hurting the person I love.

  “Emelyn,” I say in an empty tone.

  “And your last name?”

  I look up and glare at the officer. He’s older, with salt-and-pepper hair and brown eyes. He’s giving me a gentle expression, and so far he’s been very friendly, but he doesn’t understand what he’s doing here. How could he possibly? He probably lives a normal life, with a normal job and a normal wife. He doesn’t understand complicated.

  “I don’t know,” I mutter.

  “Do you know why you don’t know, Emelyn?”

  “No.”

  “Are
you aware of your life before this?”

  I glare at him. “Yes. I know about my life.”

  “How much of it?”

  “Enough.”

  He rubs his hand over his chin and nods. “Are you aware you have a mother still alive?”

  “Yes,” I growl.

  “What can you tell me about your life, Emelyn?”

  “I can tell you that my mother’s ‘friend’ used to come into my room and try to assault me. Because of that, my little sister climbed over a balcony and fell to her death,” I bite out.

  He narrows his eyes, and nods again. “Is that all?”

  “Is that all?” I cry. “What more could there be?”

  “After your sister died, do you remember what happened to you?”

  My body stiffens.

  “William.”

  “No, Emelyn. Before William.”

  I close my eyes, trying to remember, but there’s nothing but small flashbacks. “No,” I whisper.

  “Emelyn, your mother was put into jail for numerous reasons. Because of that, you were put into a foster home. One evening, your foster mother sent you to get milk. You never returned. We couldn’t find you, missing persons ads were created. Eventually we got leads that you were in another country, being used as a slave.”

  My body stiffens. “What?” I gasp.

  “You were stolen and sold as a slave. Fortunately, you weren’t used as a sex slave, but some of your other friends in there...they were.”

  I shake my head, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, looking like he genuinely means it. “You were a slave for around five years. We finally closed in, looking for groups of girls that had been sold, only to find some of them missing. We couldn’t trace where they had gone, and then Peter called us, saying he felt something was off in William’s house. His name had been popping up here and there, and after the recent death of a girl at his place, I knew there was something off. After a little digging, we traigg theced his name to some of the transactions made on the girls.”