Chapter 11

Ophelia

Iwas living in the burning flames of hell's playground, and I was the devil's toy. The worst part? I'd grown to like being around him. Or used to it, at least. Like a dog waiting for her master, I sat in my corner, anticipating his return. I wanted his attention, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. It was weird because I had enjoyed the loneliness at my father's house, but isolation in this house was driving me mad. I wanted him to talk to me, and I wanted him to keep me safe from his brother.

He came into the room after a few hours away and went to the closet. He pulled the hidden game of checkers from inside, and I couldn't help but smile at the look on his face. Playful and almost...sweet. Gunnir must have gone to bed, because he wouldn't have risked removing the game from its hiding place otherwise. He sat in front of me and laid out the broken board.

"Have you ever played chess?" I asked as he set out the pieces.

His eyes lit up. "I wanted to learn how to play that, but we only had checkers."

His childlike excitement made me smile. It was clear why his mother had preferred his company over Gunnir's. I could only imagine the horrors their mother went through and what pushed her to take her life. It was probably even worse than what I'd experienced. Actually, I was certain it was.

"What was your mother like?" I asked.

Alex seemed to disappear into his mind, probably trying to decide if this conversation was a good idea. After a moment, he got to his feet and grabbed a box from the closet. He put it on the floor and wrapped his long legs around it before pulling a picture from inside and handing it to me. The woman in the photograph had sandy brown hair like Alex, and the green shade to her eyes was the same, but that was about it. He must have inherited his other features from his father. I recognized the bed in the image, as well as the walls.

And the chain around her neck.

"That's my mother," he said with pride in his voice. He took the picture from me and gazed at it as he continued speaking. "She was good at checkers, just like you. And she could sing real sweet. The Man didn't like it when she sang, though, so she didn't do it often."

"The Man?" I asked. "Was that your father?"

His soft smile faded, but he didn't answer. "Did you live with your dad after your mom died?"

My lips tightened and I couldn't bring myself to respond.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk about it," Alex said as he moved a piece on the board, but telling me I didn't have to talk about it made me want to talk about it.

"My father is a bad person," I said with a shake of my head.

Alex's green eyes met mine, a mutual understanding growing between us. "Mine too."

I spotted a picture of a hand-traced turkey drawing, and I lifted it from the box before he could snatch it away. I turned it around and found his scrawled signature on the back. "Alexzander? With a z?" I looked at him over the edge of the paper.

"Yeah. It's Greek," he said. "It's your move."

I had doubts that any of them knew a damn thing about Greece, but I let it go and pushed one of my pieces across the board.

"You said your father is a bad person. Does that mean he's still alive?" he asked.

"Unfortunately," I muttered. "Though I don't know how long he'll last without me. He doesn't work, so our only income was what I brought in from the diner. He'll probably die from withdrawals when he can't afford his booze anymore."

"If he died, would that be a bad thing?"

I didn't answer him. I couldn't. It wasn't easy to admit I fantasized about my father's death on a daily basis. "Your move," I said.

He reached down and stopped, considered, then moved a piece, but he didn't place himself in a vulnerable position this time. He was improving.

"What about your dad?" I asked. "Where is he?"

"Gone," he said.

"Gone like he left or gone like he's dead?"

"Just gone, O. Drop it."

So I did. We played the rest of the game in silence. I captured the final black checker on the board, and Alex looked up at me with a tight scowl.

"Don't feel bad. I was on my school's chess team. We played checkers when we needed a change. I'm basically a professional," I said with a shrug. "Did you guys go to school?"

Alex laughed. "Do either of us seem schooled to you?"

I shrugged. "You kinda do."

"Thanks, but no. I'm self-taught. Gunnir didn't care to learn anything aside from the female anatomy," he said as he picked up the pieces and stacked them to put them away.

"How do you see yourself as different from him?" I knew I shouldn't have asked, but I did it anyway.

His body tensed. "I just am," he said with a shake of his head.

"You're both rapists."

A normal person would have been appalled by such an accusation, but Alex didn't even react. He knew what he was. Still, the guilt was evident from the downturn of his lips and the way he couldn't meet my eyes. He wasn't as soulless as he wanted me to believe.

He finished boxing up the checkers before he looked at me. "I'm a bad person, O. But I'm not the worst."

I turned my gaze to the door and scratched at my arm. Going so long between baths made my skin crawl. "Any chance I could shower tonight?"

Alex looked toward the door and sighed. "I guess it's okay. Just a quick one, though."

He unfastened my chain from the floor and led me to the bathroom, clutching the metal links in his hands to keep them from clanking together. I wished I could shower without the chain weighing down my neck. But I was glad I could shower at all. Sam wasn't so lucky. She was stuck with a spigot and the unending film of dirt that coated the walls and concrete. There was no way to get clean down there. I hoped she was okay. I wouldn't have known she was still alive if it weren't for Gunnir's heavy steps to and from the basement.

Cool water ran from the showerhead and pebbled my skin, and the cold chain froze me further. Alex's presence hovered just outside the shower, sitting on the closed toilet and waiting for me to be done. I just let the freezing water run over me because it was better than any alternative.

"Will you hurry up in there?" Alex said after a few minutes, and I could tell his face was leaning against his hand because his voice was muffled. "The water's cold now, isn't it?"

I made a noise that wasn't a yes or no, because the water was never not cold. A rustling noise came from outside the shower, and the curtain whipped open. I threw my arms over my chest and crotch, as if he hadn't seen it all already.

But I hadn't seen all of him. Not in the way he stood before me then. He was stark naked, without an ounce of bashfulness as he dropped my chain and took in my body with hungry eyes.

"Why?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not letting you use up all the hot water," he said as he stepped past me to get beneath the spray.

"What? There's no hot water!" I said as I hugged myself tighter.

"This gets way colder."

I held my breath as his body grazed mine. I was done with the shower but when I tried to step out, he grabbed my chain. I sank back against the grungy wall and waited for him to finish.

My eyes trailed down his body. Above his muscles, long, thin scars crisscrossed his back, and small circular scars dotted his shoulders. I followed the marks down to his ass and back up again.

"Who did all that to you?" I asked.

"The Man," he said as he blew water from his lips. "Stop asking questions."

"Was he your father?"

Alex swung around and pushed his body into mine. He ripped my hands from my chest and my nipples hardened against his skin. "I said stop asking fucking questions."

"Sorry," I whispered as I cut my gaze.

His cock hardened against my lower stomach, and I closed my eyes and waited for him to take me, to teach me to keep my mouth shut. When my chain rattled, I opened my eyes and saw him step out of the shower. I was mostly surprised and relieved, but a tiny part of me felt a rising insecurity. Did I no longer interest him?

I flipped off the water and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around my wet skin, and without speaking, he led me toward the room.

He seemed mad at me. I shouldn't have pushed him. I was almost certain The Man was his father and if he was, he would have been the one to whip the sympathy out of Alex. Gunnir would have been the prodigal son. Sick and fucking twisted. Alex was sick too, but it reminded me more of someone who had been conditioned to the point of sickness.

Alex shoved me forward and closed the bedroom door behind me. Water dripped down his chest and nestled into the old towel around his waist. When he turned to look at me, his gaze burned through me.

"Alex..."

"Ophelia," he retorted. "I want you to stop asking questions about The Man. You don't need to know about him, and I don't need to talk about him. Is that clear?"

I nodded my head and adjusted the towel around my body.

His attention moved from my face to my chest, then went lower. His eyes darkened. "I want to make you come, O."

I shook my head and tightened the towel.

He stepped into me and fisted my damp hair, balling it at the nape of my neck. "Let me touch you."

"Why do you care if I get off?"

"I wonder that myself," he whispered as he leaned toward my lips.

My lungs struggled for air, making my chest rise against his. I didn't know what to do. He knew when I faked it, and if I refused, he'd probably force himself down my throat. I didn't want the burn of his come traveling through my sinuses again. But I really didn't want him to touch me. I didn't want to receive pleasure from any part of him.

Tears glossed my eyes. It was a no-win scenario.

With the towel still wrapped around his waist, Alex sat on the bed and parted his legs to create a space between them. He motioned me over, and I struggled to move toward him. My feet felt coated in lead. It took everything in me to take those few steps and sit between his legs.

My body trembled as his hands went to the front of my towel and spread it until the cool bedroom air prickled my skin. I was shaking, and I knew he felt every vibration against him. His fingers grazed my skin and his hand slid between my breasts. He brushed my nipples before squeezing them, forcing a whimper from my lips. As he cupped my breasts and played with my nipples, a low groan hummed in his chest. His mouth dropped to the curve of my neck and bit into my flesh.

"Fuck, O," he growled as he slid his hands down my stomach until he reached my slit. He rubbed me until the wetness gathered, then pinched my clit between his fingers. "I'm not going to fuck you, if that's what has you scared, so relax and enjoy."

I didn't relax. I tensed further as one hand squeezed my breast and his other hand worked my clit. It was so wrong. He was a horrible person, only trumped by Gunnir. He'd abducted me and caused me so much pain. He'd violated me.

And yet I found myself scooping my hips toward his touch.

"Good fucking girl." He kissed along my jaw before his lips found my mouth. "Come for me." He said the words like he'd never said them before in his life.

Whether I wanted it or not, his touch pulled pleasure from me. I relaxed my lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss. It couldn't hurt to—

The bedroom door flew open, and Gunnir stood in the doorway with his mouth hanging at the hinges. Alex pulled away from my mouth and covered me with my towel. I hugged myself and drew my legs toward my chest. He was still hard as he climbed out from behind me and stood up.

"The fuck, Alex?"Gunnir screamed.

"Gunnir," Alex said, as calmly as he could. "It's not what it looked like." Alex was talking as if he'd just got caught fucking Gunnir's wife or something. All he did was kiss me. He'd seen Alex kiss me in the basement, and he hadn't cared then.

"What were you doing between her legs? Why were you touching her like that? The Man—"

"Don't, Gunnir," Alex snapped, his jaw pulsing.

"We don't make them feel good, Alex. That's not what they're for!" Gunnir's voice raised another octave as he stepped toward his brother.

"You don't have to make them feel good, but I can do whatever I want with her. She's mine. If I want to play with her, then I'll play with her."

"Fucking pussy. Mama made you that way. Does she remind you of her, mama's boy?"

Gunnir grabbed the belt hanging on the door and walked toward me. He was on me before I could scoot away. His fingers coiled through my hair, and he yanked me from the bed. His other hand reached for the towel and snatched it away, leaving me bare in front of him. I went to cover my chest, but he grabbed my arms and ripped them away. I screamed for Alex, which just enraged Gunnir more. He pushed my chest to the dresser and forced my legs apart.

"They don't get to feel good," Gunnir snarled as he drew his arm back and brought the folded leather down on my skin. I screamed out and tried to pull away. "Don't move, stupid bitch, or I'll put something worse inside you than either of our cocks."

Tears fell down my cheeks as I searched for Alex in the dresser mirror. He stood behind us, looking as stuck as I was. He was trying to figure a way out of this situation, but the desperation flitting through his eyes made me think there was no hope.

When Gunnir brought the belt down on me again, I dug my nails into the aged wood. A warm trail of blood dripped down my thigh, and I dropped my head and bit my arm so I wouldn't scream again. Over the heartbeat in my ears, I heard the unmistakable sound of a switchblade swinging free.

"Maybe I should just take off what makes her feel good, huh, Alex?" Gunnir goaded.

Whipping wasn't enough for him. He meant to do more damage. Irreparable damage. I tried to get away, but his weight pressed into me and held me fast.

Another sound overshadowed Gunnir's sick and twisted laugh—a gun being racked. He lifted his weight off my back and turned around, but I didn't need to turn. I could see my savior in the mirror. Alex stood with squared shoulders, his legs spread in a shooter's stance.

And the shotgun he held was aimed at his brother.

Gunnir dropped the belt. "Oh, little brother," he said through a weak laugh. "Big fucking mistake."

"We'll see," Alex snarled.

I dropped to the ground in a naked, bleeding mess. Tears soaked my cheeks, and I couldn't open my eyes. Only once I heard Gunnir's footsteps receding did I look up and see Alex unloading the shells and hiding them in a drawer.

"Fuck, O," he said. "I fucked up." There was a fear in his voice I'd never heard. He shoved the shotgun into the closet and sat back against the wall. "I only wanted to make you feel good. For once."

"Alex," I whispered.

He crawled closer and took my face in his hands. "You're fucked, O. And I'm sorry."

The fear in his voice proved I wasn't the only one who had to worry about Gunnir. That piece of shit had a scary hold on Alex too.