Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4

by Kay Elle Parker

  His keen gaze didn’t miss her wince of discomfort as he removed the wet material off her completely, throwing it onto the burn later pile. “What hurts, princess?”

  “My butt. My thighs.” She flushed slightly. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Pain always matters. Let me take a look. Hold onto my arm.” He shifted to stand beside the chair, then hooked his right arm around her waist and lifted her when she clung to him. He stood her on feet she couldn’t use, holding her securely as he cocked his head to study her ass and legs.

  Atticus swore he heard a tooth crack, he clenched his jaw so tight.

  Urine burns covered her buttocks and the backs of her thighs. Closer inspection revealed the rash had spread along the inside of her legs. It was treatable, sure. Once she was clean, he had some ointment that would help neutralize the acid on her skin. A few days and the irritation would clear, but it was going to be an uncomfortable few days.

  Wait a minute. Atticus paused, reassurances on the tip of his tongue as he was struck by a thought. Frowning, he eased Alicia down gently, then cupped her chin and tilted her head back. “Are you telling me you can feel that, Lisha?”

  “It feels as though someone’s scrubbed my skin raw,” she responded dully. “Of course, I can feel that.”

  The wording in her medical file about the injury sustained in her fall fourteen years ago was a complete spinal cord injury. The majority of the time he’d spent researching the effects of such a calamitous trauma had been focused mainly on how to accommodate Alicia’s needs, but Att remembered reading that a severed spinal cord meant the loss of motor functions and sensations below the damaged area.

  Carefully, he dug his short nails into what was left of the muscles in her upper thighs. “How about that?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Yes.”

  Atticus dragged his nails lightly down her skin to her knees, circling the bony caps. “That?”

  “Hmm.”

  He got the same confused hum of acknowledgement when he traveled from knees to ankles, but she gasped when he cupped her feet and scored his thumbnails along her soles from toes to heel. “You have sensation in your legs, princess. How long have you been able to feel things?”

  Baffled, Alicia shrugged. “I’ve never stopped. Is something wrong?”

  Oh yeah, he thought, something was wrong. What he wanted to know was who had messed up, and why. “Did you tell anyone?”

  “Of course, I did. I told my parents, but they just laughed at me. I told the doctor in charge of my case before they discharged me from the hospital.” She started to pick at her thumb with ragged nails. “He ran more tests, took more scans, and said nothing had changed. My spinal cord hadn’t magically healed itself. My prognosis wouldn’t improve. I was just imagining things, and I should get out of that bad habit.”

  Att covered her hands with his before she made herself bleed. She was getting upset, and that wasn’t what he wanted to achieve. He’d just have to do some digging into the doctor on record, that was all, and find out if it was possible for a paraplegic to still have feeling in their lower limbs. “It’s okay, Lisha. I was just curious,” he lied seamlessly, hating himself for it.

  “I got used to it. Being ignored. Being treated as something other than human. No one listened to me when I talked, so I stopped.” Her fingers flexed under his. “No one hears me. No one sees me. I’m just the invalid in the stupid chair, waiting to die in the next fifty years.”

  He growled, thoroughly displeased with the turn in conversation. He could hear the tiredness in her voice, the heaviness of the words. With barely restrained violence, he plucked her from the chair, cradling her against his chest. “Don’t ever call yourself an invalid again. You are a strong, beautiful, resilient young woman who is going to take the world by the horns in a few weeks.”

  She snorted sadly.

  “This is going to sting,” he murmured, turning and lowering her gently into the warm water. He vehemently disliked the soft squeaks of pain she emitted as her raw skin submerged in the heat—he wasn’t a sadist, after all. “Ssssh, princess. It’ll pass, I promise.” He guided her into a comfortable position, almost losing her in the damn bubbles. “Trust me, we are going to do everything we can to turn this around.”

  “You like doing this?”

  This was his calling. Tending to a submissive only wicked the top layer off of his cravings, calming his inner Daddy from one week to the next, one unsatisfactory sub to another. His life didn’t satisfy the neediest roots of his being, and it was starting to infuriate him.

  But this? As he took the washcloth and lathered it in orchid-scented gel, he felt those hungry roots strain. This was everything he desired. Alicia wasn’t his little girl, but the act of caring for her—bathing and washing, feeding and coddling—was akin to shooting heroin and riding the high while his soul mellowed.

  “It’s my skill, Alicia. A passion of sorts.” Gently, he lifted her arm free of the water and washed it from shoulder to wrist. He cleaned her palm and each finger individually. “I like to help, and I enjoy lavishing attention on su—” He bit off the word, exchanging one brittle arm for the other, “—sweet princesses.”

  Her fingers curled around his as he finished washing them. The blue of her eyes was slowly narrowing as her eyelids drifted closed, and it was gratifying to witness her face slackening with the lure of sleep. She mumbled something he couldn’t quite catch.

  While she slept, Atticus took his time removing every trace of sweat and grime from her skin, keeping her head above the water. There were scars on her skin—old ones, too faded to have been inflicted in her time at rehab—and that made him angry, knowing her parents had seen her as nothing but a cash cow to beat until she ran dry.

  By the time he rinsed the soap off her neck and the dark, prickly stubble of her hair, Atticus was well-acquainted with every pucker of flesh, each pale mark. The roadmap of scars was burned into his brain, just as the contours of her body were logged in his senses.

  Not once had his skin touched hers inappropriately. The cloth and the gel did all the work, simply guided by his hand. Now Alicia was finally clean, her skin pink from his ministrations, and the water damn near black with dirt.

  Pulling the plug, he stretched his arm out and yanked the towel off the rack, bundling his limp female into the fluffy warmth one-handed. He whisked her away into the bedroom, laying her down on the bed and briskly rubbing her dry.

  His inner Daddy purred with joy.

  Leaving her briefly, he returned to the bathroom and brought in her chair, leaving it beside the bed. Removing her bag from the hook at the back, he opened it and rummaged through it for something she could wear to sleep in, but as he sorted through the limited assortment of clothes, he realized everything was damp.

  He could smell it, feel it on his fingers. Taste the damn mustiness.

  Disgusted, he zipped the bag up again and carried it out into the hallway. He’d go through it later and try to salvage what he could. Slipping into his own room, he snagged a T-shirt from his dresser, and the ointment Alicia needed for the rash from his bathroom.

  She was still sleeping when he went back to her, looking adorable despite everything. He stroked a hand over her head in reassurance, murmuring to her as he carefully rolled her onto her stomach, off the damp towel.

  The words kept coming, utter nonsense even to his ears, but he hoped they’d offer her some comfort if she began to wake. Not letting the opportunity for his Daddy side to show without scaring her pass, he embraced it instead.

  The ointment was cool and thick under his palm as he spread it over the affected areas, firmly rubbing it in until only a greasy sheen glossed her butt and thighs. Improved living conditions, good food, and plenty of fluids combined with a few days of the ointment would clear the nasty red inflammation.

  Five minutes later, Alicia was draped in a T-shirt ten times too big for her, and tucked under the covers. The bed wasn’t the biggest, yet she still seemed inhumanely sm
all. A tiny, lost creature in a sea of blue.

  He flipped the used towel over his shoulder, realizing his shirt was wet, and almost laughed. He imagined he looked as though he’d been wrestling a squirming toddler in the bath rather than bathing a sleeping woman.

  Using the remote on the bedside table, he engaged the motor to lower the blinds against the afternoon sun, leaving the room bathed in the slightest glow. If she was still sleeping when the light ebbed, he’d turn the lamp on low, so she didn’t wake in the dark.

  The next twenty minutes were spent tidying the bathroom, disposing of her unsanitary clothing, and resisting the urge to keep checking on her. Eventually, he forced himself to exit the room—leaving the door ajar, of course.

  In the kitchen, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it in the washing machine, then prepared a tray for Alicia. A glass of juice, a glass of water. Making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was odd, but his inner Daddy took great pride in ensuring he used the perfect ratio of both, then cutting off the crusts and slicing it into four neat triangles.

  He’d have preferred to give her soup for her first proper meal, but she would be hungry once sleep cast her aside. Juice, the sandwich, and the two cookies he placed on the plate would be enough to sate her hunger until dinnertime.

  Atticus cursed as his phone buzzed with a message, then another. Ignoring it, he delivered the tray without disturbing Lisha, noting she hadn’t moved an inch from where he’d tucked her in. He gave in and stroked her cheek, little more than a kiss of his fingertips over the stark ridge of her cheekbone. “Everything’s going to be fine, princess. I promise.”

  His fucking phone was a constant hum of vibration in his pocket now, and he stormed down the hall to his home office. Was asking for one fucking day off too much? He dropped into his leather computer chair, settling into the cool seat and taking a moment to breathe.

  The woman in his spare bedroom was not the withdrawn, sullen creature he’d looked after at Connie’s. She was smart, smarter than she gave herself credit for. She’d endured a horrific experience, or should he say, another horrific experience. Somewhere along the way, she’d grown up, but he knew that was no reason to become complacent.

  The black dog hunted relentlessly, striking without warning.

  He couldn’t afford to give her an inch of leeway. One tiny slip and the whole of her could landslide into oblivion. Back to the death metal blasting out her eardrums with suicide lyrics warping her thoughts.

  With a sigh, Atticus pulled out his phone and opened up the first of over twenty messages. One from Zachariah, confirming the minor case he was working on had been completed—nothing complicated, just a simple bodyguard gig escorting a politician from his Desert View home to Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport.

  The rest were in a group chat someone had kindly included him in, comprising of his idiot friends. Obviously, news of Alicia’s liberation had already made the rounds, which meant it wouldn’t be long until they swarmed his house like dominant locusts.

  Connie: Att, what the hell is going on? The facility where Alicia is being raided by the police and every state authority known to man. What do you know?

  Liam: What? Is Alicia safe?

  Connie: I don’t know! It’s all over the damn news. I can’t contact anyone there.

  Anarchy: All I know is that Alicia is safe and out of harm’s way. You don’t have to worry about her.

  Jasper: Kitten, get back to work.

  Archie: I am at work. I’m a busy bee.

  Braun: I have assurances Alicia is safe with Atticus. I’m waiting for an update from Att. Whatever’s going on, this does not get back to Bodie under any circumstances. She’s had a rough few days and any more stress will put her back in the hospital.

  Thane: I’m sure Atticus will have everything under control. Connie, don’t you dare go charging over there. Before you sass me, yes, that is a direct order, not a suggestion.

  Connie: Goddamn you, Thane.

  Liam: Maybe we should just calm down and wait for Att to update us before we all panic. If Braun says Alicia is okay, I’m happy with that.

  Atticus rubbed his forehead wearily. He hadn’t had nearly enough time to settle himself into the reality of having a dependent in his home, but these people were his family. Would be Alicia’s family once she crawled out of her shell to get to know them properly. He couldn’t in good conscience leave them hanging without answers.

  Atticus: Went to visit Alicia this morning. Facility was criminally below standard on all fronts. The authorities are handling the situation without any assistance from me. Alicia is with me, at my house, but is not in any condition for visitors at the moment. Will give updates tonight.

  There. It wasn’t the lengthiest or most detailed message, but it got the main points across. Unsurprisingly, the bottom of the screen erupted in three rolling dots as his friends prepared to fire responses from all sides.

  Connie: What do you mean, not in any condition? Damn it, I’m coming over.

  Thane: Sugar, you head anywhere in that direction and I’m borrowing Jasper’s sjambok.

  Jasper: Just say the word, Thane.

  Connie: This is not fair. Alicia was my responsibility until you sent her away. If she’s hurt, I need to go help.

  Thane: You’re not taking the blame for this, Constance. No one is to blame. Let us get all the facts first.

  Braun: It was my decision to send Alicia away. If anyone takes responsibility for this, it will be me. Until we have the full details of what’s happened and Alicia’s condition, no one will make any rash choices. Con, if I hear you’re taking on yet more guilt for Alicia, I’ll spank you raw myself.

  Such responsible people, his friends. As the master of bearing such weight himself, Atticus applauded it even as he grimaced at the old wounds being torn open. He was aware Connie still hadn’t forgiven Braun for choosing the rehab facility over her care, but then, she hadn’t been in a position to argue. She’d been killing herself trying to do everything and help every-fucking-body.

  Atticus: Enough. The facility is the only one accountable for this, and they will be made to pay the price. Alicia is exhausted, malnourished, and her physical appearance is not what you’ll expect. She’s in good spirits when she’s awake. She just needs time and tending to.

  Temporarily muting the conversation—Connie was no doubt gearing up for a full-scale attack to demand he tell her everything—Atticus clicked on his contacts and hit Braun’s name. His friend picked up immediately.

  “So, want to tell me what kicked this off?”

  “Hello again to you, too.” Atticus sighed. “What can I say? Alicia played the avoidance game one time too many. She’s been turning down offers to visit, her phone calls dwindled to almost nothing, and the ones she made were short. It piqued my suspicions, so I took a ride over to see her.”

  “By yourself.”

  “Didn’t need a chaperone. Like I said, my suspicions were raised, and I wanted to check the place out. It was a big mistake on both our parts, brother, letting them come pick her up instead of taking her ourselves.” He was still kicking himself for that. “I know they insisted, and Alicia threw her hat on their side of the ring, but we fucked up.”

  “I’m beginning to see that. So what exactly have I been paying for those assholes to do?” The self-loathing in Braun’s voice was evident, added stress he didn’t need on top of his current situation. Every day that passed brought him a day closer to meeting his unborn child…or losing it, if the fates swung the wrong way.

  Unwilling to lie to one of his best friends, Atticus relayed the bulk of what he’d seen in the rehab facility. The disrepair, the mistreatment. He toned it down when it came to Alicia, both to respect her privacy as best he could, and to protect Braun from the savage guilt Atticus was already intimate with.

  “Fucking hell.” Something smashed loudly on Braun’s end of the line, and Att hoped he was out of earshot of his sub. Breaking things did not offer a pregnant
woman a sense of peace. “Bodie’s not going to forgive me for this. Connie, either. Goddamn it, how many times can I fucking fail that poor girl?”

  “I’m thinking it’s not just on your head, Braun. I also think things have a way of coming around to where they’re supposed to be.” He glanced at the doorway, imagining Alicia just a few feet away. Childlike, innocent. “Alicia is where she’s meant to be now.”

  “Jesus, Att, she’s not your—”

  “If you say responsibility, I’m going to kick your ass to the state line and back. We’ve argued this back and forth for months. We tried it Connie’s way, we gave the facility a shot and it failed. I’m taking the weight off you, Braun, by taking the decision out of your hands. Period.”

  Braun sighed heavily. “I’m not arguing with you, Att. I don’t have the energy. As long as Alicia is happy to stay with you, there’s no reason to uproot her again. Do you know what’s happening at the facility?”

  “No idea. My hands have been full since we got home—I haven’t even turned on the news. I imagine the residents will be removed and put into better quality establishments until their families can be notified. The staff will probably be detained and interviewed, charges pending. The higher-ups, well, they’ll spend the night staring at bars, I hope.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “No, it’s not. There’ll be an opportunity for civil action.” It wasn’t civil action his friend wanted, it was blood. Atticus would’ve given it to him, but what fate had in store for the greedy and the cruel was far worse than anything he could do to them.

  Physical wounds healed. Death was quick.

  For people like them, being stripped of their wealth and their luxuries, robbed of their freedom, would be acid in the wounds of humiliation.

  “Yeah, I guess. Look, if you need anything, you let me know. I’ll keep the others off your back for as long as I can.”

  “No. They care. They’re concerned. Alicia needs to see that, to feel it firsthand, because she doesn’t believe she’s worthy of it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gauge how soon she would be ready to have visitors. “I’ll see how she’s doing tomorrow. Maybe Archie and Connie can come by for an hour. They need to be prepared for how she looks, Braun. You all do.”