Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

brIAR

I run as fast as I can out of the infirmary. As I push myself to my physical limit, some of the emotional pain trying to drown me ebbs. Sucking in a greedy lungful of oxygen as the pain eases enough to breathe, I know exactly where I need to go.

The gym.

Running flat out on the treadmill for an hour or two should make my emotions more manageable. Once I can think clearly, then I'll need to figure out someplace else to stay. I doubt the Wyldharts will want me around anymore.

At that thought, the pain comes rushing back. Choking me. Drowning me. Shattering me into a million little pieces.

Okay. No thoughts of the Wyldharts. Got it.

Skidding to a stop at the bottom of the staircase, I rush up it. Taking the stairs two at a time, I make quick work of the massive staircase. At the top, I turn toward Malachi's room. That's where we brought all my stuff from Patrick's house. Malachi won't let me move my clothes or sleep in one of the guest rooms.

Bad, Briar . No thinking about how much I like sleeping cuddled up with my professors right now. I don't need Malachi finding me curled in the fetal position, sobbing, in his room.

It's fine. I'm fine. I don't need them anyway.

I wonder how many times I'll have to repeat that to start believing it.

Shaking my head to rid it of all thoughts of them, I open Malachi's door and don't bother closing it. Rushing into his closet, I slam that door behind me. I peel off my dirty, blood-stained clothes. They land on the ground with a thud, the grime weighing them down. Blindly grabbing a sports bra and running shorts, I carelessly pull them on. Once I lace up my running shoes and shove in an earbud, I push open the closet door and jog out of Malachi's room. I shuffle my playlist, and Of Monsters and Men's "Circles" starts playing.

I'm almost to the gym when Malachi's deep voice growls from behind me, "You better not be going where I think you're going."

I grind my teeth and continue jogging. Picking up my pace because I don't want to deal with him, I grit out, "What if I am?"

He can suck it if he thinks I'm not going to run because he told me not to. It's not like he wants me anymore, so it shouldn't matter to him if I get hurt running. A torn tendon or a stress fracture is hardly an injury anyway. It'll be healed in a couple days or so if I do run too hard.

He just growls and picks up his pace. I run faster as well, until his voice lashes out like a whip. "Stop."

"If I don't?" I ask, not even pausing.

"Then my beast will think you're running. I don't have enough control to stop him from chasing and claiming you. If you don't want to be fucked on the gym floor, then stop."

Jesus fucking Christ. That's one hell of a threat.

My footsteps slow and eventually stop, and I yank out my earbud. As intrigued as I am by his promise, I'm in no shape for fucking today. I stop myself from pushing him any further.

If it makes Malachi feel better to yell at me, then I'll let him. I deserve his anger and disgust and rage. Malachi continues until he's in front of me. Instead of yelling at me like I think he will, he bends down, shoves his shoulder into my stomach, and hoists me up.

"Put me down!" I screech in surprise.

He's a certifiable caveman. Who even carries someone like this? I slam my fists into his back, but it doesn't have any effect on him.

"No," he growls. He continues walking, carrying me all the way up the stairs like that. When we reach his room, he kicks the door shut behind us and slides me down his body. Once I'm on my feet, he spins me around to face the door. "Put your hands on the door."

"What? No," I protest.

"I wasn't asking, Briar. If you want pain to deal with whatever's going on in your head, you'll put your hands on the door." Malachi steps up behind me, pressing his front to my back. Warmth pours off him, heating up my chilled skin.

"If I refuse?" I ask, because there's no way I'm listening to him. He doesn't get to waltz into my life and control all my choices. Malachi may be one of my mates, but he doesn't own me. I'm done letting anyone control my life like Patrick did.

"Then you don't get the pain you crave," he rasps in my ear. His deep voice and hard body pressed against me are making me feel things I'd rather not. Now's really not the time to be getting turned on.

"Or you could get fucked, and I can go run anyway." I'm a fan of option three, personally.

He chuckles behind me, the sound making shivers crawl up my spine. It's dark and masculine. "That's not an option."

"How are you going to stop me?" I scoff.

"I'll tie you to my damn bed if I have to. You aren't running, so make your choice." Well, that's one way to stop me. It's a little over the top if you ask me—not that he is since Malachi seems content to control this situation. I growl at his overbearingness and try to turn to face him. He presses a warm hand against my bare back, preventing me from moving. "Choose," he grits out.

I grind my teeth in frustration. Pain is the only thing that helps me clear my head and manage my emotions. With the panic lying in wait for the perfect moment to overtake me, I need something to distract me. Running gives me exactly what I need when I feel like this.

Unfortunately for me, I don't think Malachi's bluffing about tying me to the bed. I'd rather give in to his demands than be swallowed up by worry and guilt. Slapping my hands on the dark wood, I grind out, "Happy?"

"Almost. Bend over while keeping your hands on the door," Malachi orders.

I hesitate, unsure what he wants me to do. Sensing that I'm confused, he tugs on my hips and guides me how he wants. My hands slide down the door as he pulls my hips back until I'm bent in a right angle. With my hands braced on the door, my hips are almost level with his dick. Of course my body perks up at that, not caring about all the turmoil going on in my mind.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts as Malachi starts to pull down my shorts. "What are you doing?" I squeak.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he just pulls my shorts and panties down my thighs. I don't get a chance to say anything further before his hand cracks down on my right ass cheek. Hard.

I yelp in surprise as a little pain fizzles through me, a balm to my frazzled nervous system. I'm pretty sure the asshole just spanked me. I don't hate it like I thought I would, not that I'll tell him that.

Malachi huffs out a laugh before he finally answers my earlier question. "I'm spanking you. I'm surprised none of your previous boyfriends have spanked your ass with how much of a brat you are."

"I'm not a brat!" I gasp, offended by him calling me one. I'm well-behaved when I choose to be. He lands another sharp smack to my other cheek, interrupting anything else I was going to say. His warm palm soothes away the sting before it can get too uncomfortable. When I finally find the words I was searching for, I inform him, "That's probably because I haven't had a boyfriend before."

Malachi freezes behind me. He clears his throat before asking in a gruff voice, "Are you a virgin, Briar?"

"What? No! Why does everyone think that?" I wonder what about me screams virgin. There's nothing wrong with being a virgin. I'm just not one. Even if I hadn't fucked anyone before, I'm far from innocent. I haven't been na?ve about the way the world works since my mom was killed.

"Who the fuck else is asking you that?" Malachi rumbles, voice laced with possessiveness.

I smile to myself slightly. "Simmer down. It was just my sister."

"Good," he growls before giving me two more sharp spanks. My ass throbs painfully now, even with Malachi rubbing after each smack. The pain soothes something in me, probably what Patrick broke with his abuse. "So, you've had friends with benefits?"

I sigh, wishing he would just leave it. This is an awkward conversation to be having with my shorts and undies around my thighs and his handprint on my ass. "No. They were one-night stands."

"How many?" he asks with another harsh swat.

I let my head hang down, savoring the burn. My tightly bunched muscles start uncoiling thanks to the pain. It's probably messed up that hurting helps me relax. So often, being in pain has been out of my control. I hurt when Patrick decided I should. Choosing when and how to be in pain makes me feel more in control of everything in my life.

"I'm not answering that," I say roughly.

"Then I stop."

"No. Please." My voice breaks, and I hate myself for stooping to begging him. Begging for anything just makes me feel weak and think of Patrick.

It's been years since I begged Patrick. Even when he almost killed me, I didn't beg him for anything. Doing it now causes all the beatings where I did beg to flash like a macabre movie in my mind. I screw my eyes shut while trying to block it out. With all my mental strength, I shove them back in the box they belong to.

"As much as I love hearing you beg me, no. I stop unless you answer my question." Malachi keeps his word, only softly rubbing my ass cheek as he waits me out.

"Four," I tell him from between gritted teeth. He rewards me with the hardest spank he's delivered yet. I gasp, loving the pain and hating myself for loving it. Running's a lot less complicated than whatever I'm doing with Malachi right now. There's just pain, no thinking or overanalyzing.

"Good girl," he praises. Liquid heat pools low in my belly at his encouragement. I like him calling me that way more than I probably should. "That wasn't so hard, now was it? Why four?"

"What do you mean?" I'm not sure what he wants to know.

"Why four one-night stands? Why not more or less?"

I sigh deeply, letting my head droop further. My shoulders protest supporting the extra weight. "I hoped it would get better. Then I gave up hope."

He spanks me, wordlessly telling me I did what he wanted. "You hoped what would get better?" Malachi questions carefully, probably wondering if I was using fucking as an escape from Patrick. I was to an extent, but that's not what I was talking about.

I close my eyes, trying to hide from the embarrassment of his question. But I'm fucking addicted to the pain he's giving me. I'll answer anything he wants if he doesn't stop. "The sex," I croak.

Malachi hums while smacking my ass again. While it hurts physically, it soothes all the jagged emotional edges. It no longer feels like all my organs have been replaced with shrapnel, so that's a plus.

"Has a man ever made you come?" he asks calmly, like we're just discussing the weather, instead of my lackluster sex life.

"No," I whisper, cheeks bright red from embarrassment and a little shame. Fucking really isn't all that books crack it up to be. All the guys I've slept with have been disappointing. Something tells me the Wyldharts might change my opinion of it. That is, if they don't hate me after I got Xander shot.

Welp, there goes any relief I was feeling. Another point for running to get the pain I need. When I run, there aren't any domineering men making me think about things I don't want to. Although, when he delivers a couple more painful spanks, the pendulum swings back in the direction of Malachi's method. It hurts so good that I don't want it to stop.

"That's good to know, baby girl. You're being such a good girl for me, aren't you?" Malachi practically purrs. A pathetic whimper comes out of my mouth instead of intelligible sound. I apparently like being a good girl for him.

"I'll leave the rest of my questions for later. You say stop, and this stops. Understand?" he asks sharply. I nod to show I heard him, unable to find the words to say anything. "I need your words, Briar."

"Yes," I breathe, unsure if he can actually hear me.

"Good. Just make sure when you say stop that's what you want. This all ends when you say stop, understood?" Malachi rumbles.

"Yes," I croak again, incapable of speaking at a normal volume when I'm trying so hard not to splinter apart. I just want him to make all the thoughts stop or let me run until I'm too tired to think.

Malachi starts spanking me, and I sink into the pain. I let it wash over me and drown anything else I'm feeling.