Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4

by Kay Elle Parker

  “Clever girl. You know they were lying, right? There’s nothing wrong with your brain. It just hasn’t been taught what it needs to understand.” He reached out and nudged her hand away from her face. “Finish the sentence, pretty princess.”

  God, she hated him as much as she despised herself in that moment. “The cat made friends with the mouse. T-They were the b-best of friends.” She glared at him sulkily. “There, I’m done.”

  “Far from it.” He flipped through the scattered sheets until he found the ones he wanted, then pushed them toward her. A quick glance showed her that they were handwriting worksheets, the ones where she had to write the letters by following the inked dots on the page. “Do these while I finish up here. We’ve got an appointment this afternoon in the city, so we’ll have to leave in around…” he consulted his watch. “Ninety minutes.”

  Alicia jerked back in her chair. An appointment with whom, and why? Where was it, and why was he only just mentioning it now? She’d been a pain in his ass this week, she knew, refusing to see Connie or anyone else. She’d struggled with bouts of depression, and living with the innate fear that he’d throw her away because of it had made her cranky and anxious. “An appointment for you, right? I don’t have to go.”

  “We’re going to see a friend of mine who specializes in the kind of injury you have. She’s nice, I promise. I just want to make sure that everything possible has been done to give you the best quality of life.”

  Horrified, she felt her breakfast crawl back up her throat. “H-Hospital?”

  Atticus rose slowly to his feet as she rolled the chair away from the desk, lifting his hands in a peaceful gesture. “Alicia, breathe. It’s an appointment, nothing more. Julia wants to meet you so she can talk about what happened and how to move forward.”

  Her laugh was scathing. It burned her throat almost as much as it scorched her heart to make the sound, but she couldn’t stop herself. She slapped her hands on the wheel rims hard enough for her palms to sting in protest. “This is how I move forward, Atticus. This is what I’m stuck with. This is all I’ll ever be, and no amount of poking and prodding by medical professionals is going to change anything!”

  Rather than blowing up with temper, he simply cocked his head curiously. “It’s remarkable how alike you and Boadicea are, princess. She lets anger stand in her stead when she’s scared, too.” Those beautiful eyes saw far too much for her liking. “What scares you about exploring the possibilities? Medicine and technology are much more advanced—there are avenues open to you now that weren’t there when you needed them in the beginning.”

  God, he just didn’t get it, did he? Why would he, she reminded herself. Look at what he’d built. What he owned and maintained. The house alone had to be worth more money than she’d ever dreamed of, and it didn’t begin to cover the land, his truck, his everything. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him having to worry about money.

  “They weren’t available then,” she said bitterly, “and they won’t be here now. I don’t have insurance, I don’t have the financial means to pay for my medical care.”

  Her breath hitched as a memory struck her—her parents walking into the grungy house they’d kept her prisoner in for years, gloating about how they’d beaten Bodie to death. The bloodlust in their eyes had been so glaringly bright, Alicia had seen her own death in them.

  Consumed by it, Abraham had grabbed her by the throat and shaken her like a ragdoll, almost pulling her from the chair. To this day, she knew if he’d dropped her on the floor instead of back into her seat, her chances of surviving that night would have plummeted to zero.

  Instead, Alicia had hit the hard seat with a grunt of exertion as her frail body took the brunt of his shove, and she’d reached into the pocket she’d sewn onto the side of her chair. She remembered how the cool metal felt as her fingers brushed over it, how it fit in her hand as she pulled it free and pointed it at her father.

  How the recoil almost broke her wrist.

  The bloom of red over Abraham’s chest.

  His furious expression bleeding into shock as he realized his time was done.

  Her ears had rung with the gunshot, painfully so, and her mother’s scream of outrage had only compounded the pain in her head. There’d been a moment of what have I done before the gun went off a second time, stopping Diane in her tracks with a bullet between her murderous eyes.

  “Should’ve had the guts to do the same to myself,” Alicia muttered absently. There had been a few moments—when the scent of a fired weapon and the copper stink of blood filled her senses—where she’d considered doing just that. Pressing the hot muzzle of the handgun to her temple and putting herself out of her eternal misery.

  If her hands hadn’t been shaking so badly she thought she’d fuck up her own suicide, she’d have gone through with it instead of steering her chair around her parents’ bodies so she could get to the phone and call the police.

  Atticus’ snarl of fury brought her back to the present quickly. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he knew where her thoughts had gone—or that it made him apoplectically angry to realize suicide was a constant demon in her life.

  Thankful for the little desk between them, Alicia thought it was best to keep it there, and probably not to say another word that might detonate the man-sized powder keg in front of her.

  That plan lasted all of thirty seconds before he picked it up and tossed it across the room as though it weighed nothing. It splintered on impact as it struck the wall, leaving an ugly dent in the plaster and paintwork, and Alicia understood she’d somehow crossed his line in the sand. It was slightly terrifying to comprehend she was as breakable as that piece of furniture, and just as vulnerable now that there was nothing between her and the seething man stalking towards her.

  Jesus, he made short work of the handful of feet keeping them apart with those long legs of his.

  Her lungs seized, her heart twisted beneath her ribs. There wasn’t a single ounce of bravery in her veins as she flinched and cowered in her chair, bracing for the blow she knew she deserved for snapping his control. A whimper rattled in her throat as he picked her up and held her at eye level.

  Anyone mad enough to hurl a desk across a room was angry enough to do serious bodily harm.

  “Look at me. Alicia, you will damn well look at me when I tell you to, and you won’t make me wait.” His voice was low and strained, but there was an edge of calmness that urged her to do as he asked. Not that calmness meant anything—it was usually a huge neon warning sign. “If you ever feel like life isn’t worth living anymore, you tell me. That isn’t a request, it’s a fucking order.”

  Tense, she waited for the shouting to start, already closing herself off against the harsh words and hurtful truths that were no doubt coming next. Grimacing, she waited…and waited…and waited. After what seemed like an hour, she dared to peek at Atticus, and couldn’t understand what she saw in his eyes.

  “Goddamn it. I’m only fucking human,” he muttered in disgust, then simply yanked her closer. As her barely-there breasts bumped against his hard chest, she sucked in a breath and instinctively lifted her arms to grip his shoulders. “You can say no, princess.”

  One arm looped around her waist, holding her secure, while the other supported her back. His hand cupped the back of her skull with care, holding her still as his gaze roamed her face, studying her from eyes to mouth.

  Okay…perhaps she’d greatly misinterpreted his reaction, Alicia mused. Maybe as a big shot at that club—because of course, he was a big shot, that went without saying—Atticus had a better handle on his self-control than she thought. She could feel the hum of his emotions ricocheting into her, but he wasn’t letting them loose the way she expected.

  The scratch of his beard tickled her face as his lips brushed over hers, once, twice. Like the forbidden bite of the apple, he was temptation in its finest form, and Alicia felt no shame in tasting that naughty fruit. She’d never been kissed, so the pressure and warm
th of his lips were both strange and wonderful.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted on a quiet moan of agreement.

  “Braun is going to kill me.”

  Atticus kissed one corner of her mouth, then the other. His hips rolled, grinding his cock against her, but she wasn’t afraid of him. He wasn’t her father, backhanding her across the face with one hand while he stripped off her pants with the other, fumbling between her thighs to find what he wanted.

  No, Daddy Atticus would never do that.

  The kiss deepened, and she was forced to follow his lead, mimicking what Atticus did in an attempt to appear less ridiculous than she felt. Her lips began to tingle, the sensation evolving the longer they were in contact with his. It was almost rude to notice her nipples hardening into tender nubs, but her body was responding to Atticus in a different manner than she anticipated.

  Every sweep of his tongue and nip of his teeth sent her plunging past the point of no return. Her breasts grew heavy and sensitive—something she didn’t understand—and pleasure swirled inside her, giving her pussy the cue to get wet and achy.

  This was a different level to what she’d experienced at her father’s hands. Her body wanted to get closer to Atticus, to rub itself all over him and let him do naughty things to her. It was kinda nice not to be afraid to move in case she stirred his wrath and unleashed hell on herself—on the contrary, he seemed to enjoy her wanton wriggling.

  She liked his beard. A lot. It teased her skin as his mouth plundered hers, the kiss growing hotter and more passionate with every breath. Moaning quietly, she chased after him as he broke the connection, seeking the comfort of his lips again.

  “Just as sweet as I thought you’d be.” Atticus smiled slowly, watching her eyes. She had no idea what he saw in them, but they fascinated him. “I had to stop before I crossed any farther over the line, princess. You are quite the temptation.”

  Who cared about a stupid line? she thought crossly, pouting in protest when Atticus lowered her back into the bane of her existence. Braun didn’t get a say in what happened between her and Atticus—he didn’t know her well enough to dictate who she could and could not become acquainted with, did he?

  “You didn’t have to stop,” she pointed out. “Just move the goddamn line.”

  “There are rules about taking advantage of someone, Alicia. I brought you home so you could rest safely and figure out the next step in your life—that gives me a certain sense of responsibility that doesn’t include doing…” He cupped her chin. “Incredibly depraved things to you.”

  Alicia rolled her eyes. “We’re both adults. Consenting, attracted to each other, adults. We can kiss if we want to. It’s not like you’re sullying some prized virgin. That poor bitch was sullied a long time ago, and she faded away into the ether.”

  “Language, Lisha,” he admonished, stepping away to pick up the worksheets that had scattered when he threw her desk. “We are indeed adults, but that responsibility remains.”

  Alicia imagined her foot twitching with the urge to kick him in his self-righteous balls. She wanted more of that mouth, damn him. Why wouldn’t he give it to her? She almost whined with the unfairness of the situation—adults were supposed to be able to do what they wanted. “I don’t care!”

  Oh yeah, that was a total whine.

  Atticus chuckled and shook his head. “Using your inner brat isn’t going to change my mind, princess. There are more important priorities to consider right now.” He tossed the handful of sheets on his desk. “I know you don’t understand the gravity of what happened to you, Alicia. What Abraham did to you. I know that the way they raised you makes it seem as though your life with them was normal.”

  It had been normal, what was he talking about? She’d been a burden to them, just like she was to everyone else in her life, and they’d treated her as such. Had she hated being beaten, being belittled and made to feel insignificant? Of course she had. No one dreamed about being spending their years on earth as something to be passed around, having their worth taken from them in measures of sex and pain, but that was her fate.

  Abraham had taken her virginity because she hadn’t been willing to sell it for him. It had hurt, she’d felt ashamed and dirty, and she’d hated the fucker for using her that way. Maybe she rationalized it to keep it from gnawing her soul, but that was her decision.

  If she chose to suck shit in and lock it away to stop it from hurting her, no one had the right to tell her it was wrong.

  Alicia pressed her fingers to her lips. She could still feel the prickle of Atticus’ beard, the firm pressure of his mouth, the heat of his tongue. Her first kiss, and it had cost her nothing but another part of her crush evolving into something more meaningful.

  “We’ve touched on consent, haven’t we? Giving permission for what happens to your body, the consequences it has on your mind.” He came back to her, crouching down and setting his hands on the arms of her chair. “At fifteen years old, by law you can’t give consent even if you want to, princess. That’s statutory rape. Add in the fact you didn’t give consent, that the asshole was your father, and all the other details you’re not giving me, that’s a clusterfuck of trauma you haven’t dealt with.”

  She bared her teeth. “I’m not discussing this anymore.” It took so much energy to keep her voice steady. Unfortunately, it didn’t extend to her hands, and they trembled as she gripped the wheel rims. She pushed herself backwards, forcing him to let go of the chair, then spun around and headed for the door. “And I am not—repeat, not—going to some stupid appointment!”

  “Alicia—”

  The exasperation in his tone made her move faster. She didn’t need him to shatter the carefully built wall of denial and release the ugliness behind it. If he came after her, if he pushed her, he’d demolish her defenses faster than she could rebuild them.

  As she hightailed it down the hallway toward her room, Alicia told herself to forget the last ten minutes. Just shove them into the vault and forget about them. If it wasn’t for the kiss, she’d erase the entire morning, but her first kiss was something to be treasured, especially if the object of her affections stayed true to not repeating it.

  Damn him.

  Well, if he thought she was going to surrender and let him take her to be poked at by strangers, the giant idiot had another thing coming.

  *

  Atticus pulled his truck into a disabled bay of the hospital’s parking lot and switched off the engine. He’d just suffered through the longest, most uncomfortable drive of his life, thanks to his stubborn, frightened passenger.

  Alicia had refused to look at or speak to him from the moment he carried her out of the house and bundled her into the front seat. He’d let her stew while he loaded her chair, but when he climbed in behind the wheel, she’d huddled deeper into her hoody—one of the infuriatingly baggy ones—and refused to communicate at all. He didn’t approve of her wearing the damn thing when it was so fucking hot, but she was using it as a comforter.

  That’s what air-con was for, right?

  He checked his watch. “Time to go, princess.”

  She didn’t make a single noise, she just yanked her seat belt tighter and clutched it in both hands. There wasn’t an ounce of color in her cheeks, despite the heat, and he noted the beads of nervous sweat at her temples.

  Blowing out a breath, he shifted in his seat. “Do you trust me, Alicia? Will you listen to me when I tell you there’s absolutely nothing for you to be afraid of here? Julia won’t hurt you, she doesn’t want to hold you prisoner.” He tried a reassuring smile. “Not that I’d let her if she tried.”

  Midnight blue eyes slid toward him. Her breath hitched. “Doctors do what they want.”

  Another psychological minefield, he thought with frustration. “This one won’t. You’ve got someone with your best interests guarding your back this time, Lisha.” Testing her, he held out his hand. “Trust me to do the right thing by you.”

  Her rigid shoulders d
rooped, one hand sliding off the seat belt and reaching for his. Her small, cold fingers brushed his palm before he gently clasped them. “No needles. I don’t like them.”

  “Let’s just see what Julia says. If she needs to stick you and can give us a good reason why, we have to consider it. But if that happens,” he continued before she could yank her hand away, “I know a damn good ice cream place not far from here. Caramel sauce to die for, sprinkles, and every flavor of ice cream you can imagine.”

  Her chin lifted a fraction. “You didn’t think to mention ice cream earlier?”

  “I was saving it for bribery purposes.” Pleased she’d emerged from the non-verbal funk, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. He was sliding into his Daddy habits far more easily than he should, but he didn’t care. After that kiss this morning…he needed to have a come to Jesus talk with Braun. “Take that damn hoody off while I get your chair, princess, before you fry in the heat.”

  “I need it.”

  “For warmth or to hide in?”

  Her eyes dropped to stare at her lap. “Hide in.”

  Atticus removed his own seat belt and opened the door. “Not today, Lisha. Today seems like a good day to make a change. Hoody off,” he repeated, then slipped out of the truck and closed the door.

  The parking lot was as busy as could be expected on a Friday afternoon. Automatically, his spatial awareness kicked in, assessing threats and exits, eyeing up anyone who looked even remotely suspicious. With one eye on his surroundings, he untied Alicia’s chair and lifted it down, positioning it by her door.

  When he opened it for her, Alicia glowered at him. The pink T-shirt bagged on her, highlighting the skinniness of her arms, neck, and torso. “Now, there’s my good girl,” he crooned, immensely pleased with her. He’d expected a battle of wills and perhaps even a few tears, but it was always nice to be surprised. “You know the drill, princess. Arms up.”