Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Starling

I stare at him with my mouth open in shock. He's joking, right? This has to be a joke.

"You said you'd do anything, that you'd give me everything. Or was that another lie? We can head back. I'm sure Abbot's exactly where we left him."

How I stop myself from throwing up all over him, I'll never know. "You don't want to marry me, Hudson. Are you crazy? I'm eighteen."

He doesn't say anything, just keeps staring at me in that unnerving way that reminds me of a cobra getting ready to strike.

"You don't want to marry me. I'm cursed. I ruin everything I touch."

Still, he doesn't say anything. I want to scream at him, shake some fucking sense into him because he's acting even more crazy than usual, and that's saying something.

"Please listen." I step toward him and press my hand against his chest. "There are a million reasons you shouldn't marry me?—"

"I only need one to marry you, and I already have it. I'm marrying you because I fucking want to," he sneers before he covers my mouth with his.

I swallow his anger and my tears as teeth clash, lips split, and the taste of blood seals our fate.

I give up. I can't save him from me. Hell, I can't even save myself. He has no idea what he's signing himself up for. Everyone who gets pulled into my orbit eventually crashes and burns.

He pulls back. "Are we doing this, or are we going back to Abbot?"

I nod, not able to speak.

"Good. Let's go. I have somewhere I need to be after this."

I wrap my arms around myself and shut out everything else. If I let myself feel now, I'll fall apart.

Once upon a time, I dreamed about growing up and finding love. I pictured getting married to a man who truly valued me, not just settling for whatever was left. That vision fell apart a little bit more every time life took a machete to my hopes and dreams. But like a dandelion seed floating through the air, I held on to that tiny glimmer of hope.

Hope that Hudson just blew up because he can.

A white dress, no panties, and bruises from two different men were not what I thought I would wear on my wedding day. At least the bruises count as something blue, right?

I walk toward the chapel entrance like an inmate on death row heading toward the chair. At least their nightmare would be over soon. But for me, it's like I'm trapped in some fucked up game. I've somehow made it to the end of level one now I just have to survive a scary, bad guy.

The second I walk through the doors of the chapel; everything becomes a blur. I vaguely remember answering questions with Hudson beside me as I silently prayed to God, Zeus, even that cat I had when I was five, hoping for some kind of divine intervention.

When we make it to Elvis without the chapel burning to the ground around us, I know I'm on my own. Like always. Numbness seeps into my bones as the bars of my gilded cage snap into place around me.

"Do you, Hudson Peters, take Starling Amos to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

He frowns at me, and for a fleeting second, I think he's finally seen the light.

"Amos? I thought it was Rivers?"

"Why's this surprising? We don't know each other at all, Hudson," I remind him softly.

He clenches his jaw before replying, "I do."

The sound of the cage door slamming shut echoes in my head.

"Do you, Starling Amos, take Hudson Peters to be your lawfully wedded…"

I zone out, drifting off until Hudson nudges me. I shake my head before answering. "I do." My whisper is almost drowned out by the click of the lock in my brain.

Once again, I'm owned by a man that wants to use me.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride. Uh-Huh! Thank you. Thank you very much."

The two random witnesses dragged in to watch my downfall clap loudly. To all the smiling faces, this is a wedding, a time to celebrate. To me, it's a funeral, and all I can do is mourn the life I could have had.

Hudson's eyes glitter with smug satisfaction and lust as he yanks me to him and kisses me in a way that makes me glad there aren't any children present. When he pulls away, he takes my hand and thanks the witnesses and Elvis, who's already looking at the slightly drunk couple coming in behind us.

I keep my head down as Hudson leads me back to the car and helps me inside. I let him move me like a doll, still too shocked to comprehend that this is my life now.

He gives the driver another address before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. "Mrs. Peters."

Tears fill my eyes as he pulls me to his chest. I don't fight him, don't say a word. I cry silent tears as I say goodbye to Amos , the last thing my mother gave me.

When we stop, I don't bother waiting for him to open the door this time. I get out, needing air. I take a deep breath, hoping it settles my stomach. But when Hudson leads me into a tattoo parlor a moment later, I feel like I can't breathe, and nothing will help. I look up at him, pleading with my eyes that it's just for him and not me.

"Hey, Pete. Come on over."

I look behind me, but when Hudson squeezes my hand and pulls me to one of the two empty chairs, I realize he's talking to Hudson. Why the heck did he call him Pete?

"Hud—"

He cuts me off with a quick kiss to my mouth, a warning flashing in his eyes. But a warning about what?

I sit in the chair and watch warily as the tattoo artist sets up. I grip the armrest, ready to run, when Hudson hands me his phone. I look at him in question and take it, glancing at the screen where a video's playing. A video of Hudson fucking me bent over the bed Abbot's sleeping in.

Vomit rushes up my throat. I cover my mouth with my hand and delete the video.

Hudson chuckles, the sound seeming to come from far away. "You didn't think that was the only copy, did you?" He takes his phone out of my hand.

I can't look at him. If I do, I'll kill him. I'll take that tattoo gun, and I jam it in his eye.

"So who's up first?"

"Starling."

He takes my hand and places it on the little cart the tattoo guy wheels over.

"So how do you want it? I've tattooed lots of wedding bands over the years, and everyone likes to put their spin on it."

I stare at my hand in horror. He's tattooing a fucking ring on me. Why not just brand me like a cow?

"H in the center with the band made up of cherry blossom stems," Hudson tells him. I keep staring at my hand, willing this to all be a dream.

"That work?" the guy asks me.

All I can manage is a nod.

"Cool. Here we go."

I hear the buzzing of the gun, and he begins. Though it hurts, there's comfort in it. The pain grounds me, much like when I cut.

I flashback to my moment of weakness in the shower and the sweet relief as I ran the blade against my skin. The euphoria didn't last as long as my shame, though.

Maybe tattooing would work as a replacement.

I keep my eyes on my finger as the ring takes shape. Even though I hate what it represents, I have to admit, it's beautiful. The H is in fancy script, and the cherry blossoms are in vivid pink, wrapped around it.

"There you go. What do you think?"

"It's really pretty," I answer honestly.

"Excellent." He grins, pulling off his gloves and swapping out his equipment with new stuff. "And you, Pete?"

"I want a B in the center."

I look up at him with a frown.

"For Birdie. You're Starling to everyone. But you're my Birdie."

"I can do that. But I'm gonna go out on a limb and say, you don't want cherry blossoms, though?"

He shakes his head and looks at me. "You choose."

I consider asking for bullets or a noose, but I figure that would be frowned upon.

I meet Hudson's gaze and say, "Birds in flight. Some things just shouldn't be caged."

"I don't know. Sometimes broken wings need time to heal."

The tattoo artist looks between us, unsure of our exchange. He waits until he gets the okay from Hudson. "Birds it is. You want them all in black?"

"Yeah," I reply before Hudson. Might as well match them to his heart.

As if hearing my thoughts, Hudson looks at me and chuckles while the tattoo artist gets to work.

I watch again as the tattoo takes shape. I hate the reason it's there, but it's done so well that the birds look like they could fly right off his finger.

"And that's it. What do you think?"

"It's perfect. Thanks, Jack." Hudson hands him a wad of cash as Jack runs over the aftercare instructions. I only half-listen, knowing the basics thanks to Abbot having a couple despite being underage.

Abbot . Just thinking his name causes my stomach to cramp. There's no hiding this from him. Even if there were, I doubt Hudson would let me. He seems determined to claim me for everyone to see. He doesn't get it. He's old enough not to give a shit what others think, forgetting that I still have to deal with it.

"Let's get going. We have a flight to catch."

I blink. Right, a flight. I figured out, thanks to Elvis, that we're in Vegas. But how the hell did I sleep through a whole-ass plane ride?

They say their goodbyes, and we leave the shop.

He guides me to the car with his hand on the small of my back and opens the backdoor for me.

"Did he wait here all this time?"

"I'm paying him well." Hudson climbs in beside me as I scoot over.

"Take us back to the airport, Joe."

"No problem, sir."

Hudson takes my hand and holds it up so my palm is pressed against his. Threading his fingers through mine, he folds them down so our his and her tattoos are touching.

"Things will be better now. You'll see."

You can't reason with crazy, so I don't bother trying.

"We'll deal with everything tomorrow."

"Okay."

"It will be, you know."

"What?"

"Okay. Everything will be okay."

"You can tell yourself that all you want, but it won't be. You'll see."

"Tomorrow's problems," he murmurs. "Lean on me and get some more sleep. You're exhausted."

He has no idea how true that statement is. I close my eyes, but sleep won't come. My brain won't switch off with so much running through it.

When we get to the plane, I'm kinda amazed. I've never been on a private plane before. Well, not that I can remember. It's a little intimidating, but at least I don't have to deal with a bunch of other passengers. That's more than I can handle right now. The seats are all cream leather and look like recliners on one side of the plane and sofas on the other side.

"Take a seat, Birdie. We'll be taking off shortly."

I nod and take a seat near the window. Hudson sits beside me, and I turn to look out the window. I'm married. A tear falls, and exhaustion hits. As soon as we're in the air, I close my eyes.

By the time we make it home, the sun is rising, painting the house in hues of lavender and pink. I stand with my hand on the door, scared to go inside.

Hudson opens the door before he scoops me up and carries me in with a smile. "It's tradition."

For happy couples, I almost blurt out. But a lifetime of biting my tongue has trained me for this moment.

He gently sets me down and turns me to look at him.

"Go on up and get settled. I won't be long. I just need to make a couple of calls."

Glad for the reprieve, I nod and head for the stairs.

"Oh, and, Birdie? You'll be sharing my bed from now on."