Chapter 7

Seven

MOUSE

I wasn't sure how long I laid my head on the countertop for, but when I looked up again Doc had left, and Cal was walking back into the room with a worried frown.

"How bad are you feeling?" Cal set a bottle of painkillers down on the counter, before going to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water and setting that down alongside the pills.

"Like I've been keelhauled under old Dan's fishing boat, twice." I grabbed the pills, but the lid didn't want to open—fucking childproof lids were a bone of fucking contention for me at the best of times, but right now I had the urge to throw the uncooperative bottle and possibly burst into tears.

I jumped a little when Cal's larger hand closed around mine. He gave me an amused look. "You and childproof lids. Here, let me do that."

I pouted a little when Cal unscrewed the cap with ease. It almost felt like the small bottle was mocking me. Calling me out for being an idiot. It sounded crazy, but rational thought and I had parted company during the evening.

Cal dropped two pills into my hand and passed me the bottle of water, carefully watching me while I took them. I drank half the bottle down before I set it back onto the countertop. Cal pulled the stool out alongside me, its legs scraping on the river stone floor. I blinked slowly, watching him sit. He drummed his long fingers on the countertop, the silver rings he always wore glinting in the light of the overhead lamps.

"Doc says I need to keep an eye on you tonight and you're going to need room to stretch, so that travesty you call a bed is going to be out for at least a couple of nights."

I tilted my head trying to follow Callum's line of thought. Why was my bed a travesty? I mean okay, I might have gone a little overboard collecting the Killstar Kreeptures, but they were too creepy and cute to resist. Besides, cuddling up to them didn't make the bed seem so big and lonely.

"Tonight, you can kip with me. I promise your virtue will be safe." Cal gave an adorable lopsided grin that I was helpless but to return.

"I don't think my virtue and I have been any more than nodding acquaintances for years now." Part of me, the part still covered in bristles and sharp teeth, wanted to tell Cal to stop babying me. To see me for the worthless piece of shit I was. But that voice was drowned out by a softer, needier part of me that craved human touch—more importantly, Cal's.

I didn't want to be alone .

Being alone meant thinking too closely on what happened tonight, and what could've happened.

But if I said yes, I'd have to admit to needing something else—a green, furry fellow who I couldn't sleep without.

"I'll need my pyjama pants and something from my room first," I answered, the decision already made in my brain.

"Sure thing, little Mouse. You tell me what you need, and I'll grab them." Cal stood and came behind me, helping me to my feet. I was too tired and emotionally drained to do more than lean into him when he gently wrapped an arm around my waist. The soft kiss to my forehead was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

I couldn't understand why he was being so nice to me. He'd seen what I'd let Ziggy do. He had to know I'd gone with Ziggy willingly.

"Hey," Cal said softly. His fingers gently tipped my face to look at his. I dropped my eyes as shame and embarrassment filled me.

"No, little Mouse. Look at me." There was that warm, comforting tone he'd used on me all night, ever since he'd stormed in and punched Ziggy square in the face.

Wait. He'd punched Ziggy—to defend me .

"You punched Ziggy!" I gasped, earning a warm chuckle from Cal.

Jesus, he must think I'd gotten a head injury with the dumb statements I seemed prone to tonight.

"I wanted to head-butt the little fucker, but it was easier to just punch him. He would have gotten a damn sight worse if I wasn't hell bent on getting you out of there," Cal's voice was a deep growl against the top of my head.

Tears of gratitude threatened to spill over, and I wiped them away hastily. "You have to stop being like this."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know if I can cope with you being nice to me after everything that happened tonight. I don't deserve it."

"Boy, if you hadn't already been through hell and back, I'd put you over my damn knee and spank this nonsense out of your head. You didn't deserve one bit of what happened to you tonight. That little fucker abused your trust. He had no right to do what he did to you. No Dom worth his straps would allow that."

"But what if I wanted that?" I shook my head, my words muddled. "I mean, not like that, but to hurt." I was tired and in pain, and that was the only reason I was being so open with Cal. It had nothing to do with the proximity of our bodies or the way he held my face in his hand.

"We're going to have a proper talk, yeah? But not tonight when you're hurting and your head is all fucked up. But I will tell you this. What you want isn't wrong. I understand it better than you realise. I think that there is something deeper you need too, but we'll get to that. For now, let's get you to bed and I'll go find your pyjamas."

"Yeah, and Oscar."

"Who or what is Oscar?" Callum led me slowly up the stairs towards his bedroom. He led me through to his bed, helping me sit on the edge.

"You'll see. He's under my pillow." I fought the blush that I could feel trying to crawl up my chest and cheeks .

Callum didn't say anything, but the way his brow lifted spoke volumes.

With Callum gone for a minute, I was able to get my bearings. I'd never been inside Callum's room in all the months I'd lived here. With its position in the back corner of the house it had dual aspect windows looking out onto the garden and moors. A tall, old-fashioned floor lamp gave off a warm glow. Off to one side was the door to the small ensuite, and on the other wall stood a large, solid wood dresser and wardrobe. The dark, heavy wood of the furniture made the room feel warm and safe. Almost like what I imagined Bilbo Baggins's room would feel like—safe and snug.

There were photos of Alice from all ages and photos of Cal and his parents, even one of the group of us out the front of Viking Ink. The photo was a few years old. I barely had any tattoos, and my face was clean-shaven. Callum looked the same though, stern but kind, and sexy as hell. Even in pain, I could still admire the man. I could have one foot in the grave and still manage to wax poetic on how sexy I found him.

I traced my fingers along the patchwork pattern on the thick duvet that covered the bed. The bed itself was massive. The headboard and footboard were made from thick wrought iron and brass, and I cringed at the thought of getting blood on Cal's clean, baby-blue linens. Maybe I should just go crash in my bed. I was only across the hall and if I needed Cal, he'd hear if I called out for help.

I thought about moving, I really did—for a grand total of two minutes. But Cal's mattress felt so good under me, and I could only imagine how good it would feel to stretch out on it. Having Callum sleeping alongside me would be a definite bonus. I reached out and grabbed one of Callum's pillows and lifted it to my face. It smelled of his aftershave and all those warm comforting scents that were so ingrained in me when I thought of him.

Yeah, I was doing a stellar job of banishing those pesky, intrusive thoughts about Cal, wasn't I?

Jesus, what was I doing? Sitting half naked, bruised and bloody, on the bed of the man of my dreams, second-guessing every decision I'd made in my life. The exception being the day I accepted Cal's offer to move in with him and Alice. That, I could safely say, had been one of my smarter moments.

The sound of footsteps had me looking up and laughter bubbled out of me when I saw my bright green monstrosity of a teddy bear peer around the door. Callum was smiling, holding Oscar and a pair of my flannel PJ pants along with another full bottle of water. He placed the water on the bedside table before turning and smiling at me, holding out Oscar.

"First things first. I just grabbed the pants as I didn't think you'd want a T-shirt on. Now, the important question." Cal gave Oscar a quizzical look before passing him to me. "Who is this guy?"

I gently took Oscar from Cal's hand and ran my fingers over his messy, green fur. I could feel the stitch marks, each one handsewn by my mum. I liked to imagine when I held him to my face that I could still smell that damn perfume she loved—Sunflowers, she'd called it. All I knew was it made Simon sneeze like crazy when she wore it. I'd laughed my arse off each time. Simon sneezing was not what anyone would expect from a giant like him. It was more like a tiny kitten sneeze, but with a lot of build-up, then just a choo sound. I rubbed my chest, the memories stirring the old hurt. But I didn't want to forget about them. I wanted to remember the good times before the accident.

I continued to brush my nose against Oscar's fur. Holding him settled something inside of me, nearly as much as Callum's presence. "He's Oscar. Mum made him for me when I was little." I saw the smirk on Cal's face and shook my head. "No height jokes!"

Callum shook his head trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. "I didn't say anything, little Mouse."

That was new. He'd called me little Mouse a few times tonight. Cal, like everyone else, had always called me Mouse, but the added prefix made it feel somehow special between the two of us. It was a nice feeling. I was afraid if I made mention of it, or brought attention to the shift, he'd stop calling me it, and right now I needed to feel special—important to someone .

"Right, I'm going to go downstairs and lock up, then I'll be back." Cal looked at the pyjamas he still held in his hand. "Did you need me to give you a hand changing?"

I could probably do it myself, but my back felt like a solid blanket of hurt right now. Just moving to stand caused the deeper welts to sting, like they were being struck again. I gripped the bed and struggled to my feet, stubbornly reaching out to grab my pyjamas.

Callum just shook his head. "You can barely stand. Lean on me while we get these damn jeans off."

I felt my cheeks heat when Cal undid the top button of my jeans, blushing like I hadn't done since I was a sixteen-year-old virgin.

"You really had to wear your tightest jeans tonight." Callum huffed out a laugh as he tried to pull them down my legs. I held onto his shoulder, trying not to topple over or giggle at the strangeness of the situation.

"These jeans make my arse look banging," I muttered, blushing a deeper red when I remembered exactly what underwear I had on and that I'd flashed them at Cal earlier in the night. What could I say? Rhys wasn't the only one who'd discovered the lingerie shop on the high street.

"Your arse always looks banging. You don't need to wear jeans tight enough to cut off the circulation to your cute little cock to prove it." Callum said, yanking my jeans down far enough that I could step out of them.

I slapped my hand lightly on Cal's shoulder. Who did he think he was, calling my cock little? "Oi, I've had no complaints about my cock—wait, you think my arse is banging?" I was too tired to make sense of anything tonight.

"I just said that, didn't I? Now, kegs on or off?" Callum had his hands resting on his thighs, waiting for my permission.

Getting him to take my lacy G-string off might be a step too far for my frazzled self-control. "Leave them on. Don't need you making any more fun of my poor willy."

"Wasn't making fun of you, boy. What would be more comfortable for you to sleep in? The panties are pretty, but they might get a bit uncomfortable during the night. "

I hated that he was right. I knew at some point during the night they and the PJ pants would get thrown off. I didn't sleep well, and often woke up overheating.

"Off." I said it fast and looked away, feeling naked and vulnerable in a way I'd never felt before.

"Alright, little Mouse, breathe easy. We'll have you in bed in no time." Cal moved with quiet efficiency, removing my underwear and slipping my pyjama pants on me without fuss.

I stood still, not really knowing what to do until Cal took my elbow and guided me back to the bed. He pulled the duvet back.

"Do you need the loo?"

I swear to God he would have probably taken me to the lav and helped me if I'd let him. I was tempted to tell him to stop being a mother hen—but I wasn't sure I really wanted him to stop.

"I might need to go, but I don't need you hovering over me like a bossy Daddy," I huffed, moving slowly towards the ensuite.

"Seems to me you need a bit of bossing in your life."

I waited for my normal angry reaction that sort of comment would trigger, but it didn't come.

Cal thankfully waited at the door while I peed. The uncomfortable ache in my kidneys didn't subside much, but at least the pressure was off them. I had to place my hand on the wall to stop myself falling forwards when a wave of nausea swept through me. My hands started to shake, and I stumbled. I fell to the bathroom floor, narrowly missing braining myself on the toilet. Emotions roared through me. I wanted to cry or scream—I couldn't decide which—and the tears came of their own volition.

"Hey, little Mouse." I could see the bottom of his jeans as Callum crouched down alongside me, before kneeling on the fluffy bathroom mat. He didn't move to touch me, and irrationally my brain screamed at me of course he didn't. You're garbage. A fuckup.

Scrubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, I turned to look at Callum. But he didn't look angry with me or disgusted like I'd expected. Instead he looked sad, his expression filled with concern. His brow was creased in the way it was when Alice hurt herself or when she was upset.

"I fucked up so badly. I'm sorry, please don't hate me." The words tumbled out along with my tears. I couldn't have stopped them if I'd wanted to.

Shifting to lean against the vanity, Callum opened his arms for me, and I crawled forward, dropping my head onto his shoulder. His arms wrapped around my waist, avoiding my wounds. "You did nothing wrong, Mouse. Ziggy took advantage of you when you were vulnerable. He preyed on your needs as a submissive, but also as a man in pain. What he did to you was abuse, plain and simple. You withdrew consent. The guy who'd been in there yelled that you had called red and Ziggy ignored you. He planned on hurting you tonight, regardless of what you said or did."

I could hear the quiet anger in Callum's voice. Not directed at me, but for me. His shirt was bunched under my fingers, its fabric stained with my tears.

"I was stupid."

"There was a decided lack of wisdom trusting Ziggy, but it's understandable. You felt like you didn't have any other choice," Callum answered in a calm voice. His hand stroked my hip as if I was a nervous puppy.

"I thought it would help. I thought it would stop me thinking about shit I shouldn't be," I murmured, hoping Callum wouldn't press on those reasons.

I shifted in the cradle of his arms and nuzzled his shoulder. It felt as safe and warm as I'd always dreamed it would. I just wished I was here for different reasons, and not because of a reckless situation that I'd once again put myself in.

"Come on, let's get you to bed. You're shaking like a leaf, and this can't be comfortable for your back."

I nodded once, slowly rising to my feet. Cal rose alongside me, placing a guiding hand on my hip until I stood upright. I refused to glance in the mirror as we stood at the bathroom sink, not wanting to see what kind of freakshow I looked like right now. I watched, almost feeling like I was in a dream, as Callum ran the taps, not letting me wash my hands until the water was warm. Once done, I reached for the taps, but Cal's hand stopped me, and he reached for a washcloth.

"Hold still, little Mouse. Let's clean this off before we get you into bed."

I watched, bemused, as he soaked the cloth in warm water, then brought it to my face. With gentle swipes, he wiped my cheeks and eyes, carefully removing the last traces of blood and make-up from my face.

The gentleness of his touch and the soft way he spoke nearly had me crying all over again.

I was still shaking when Callum helped me into bed. I lay on my belly clutching Oscar, trying not to think about anything. But typically, my brain was working overtime, throwing up images of the night, of the pain and humiliation I'd felt. Pain had always been something sacred to me when inflicted by a skilled Dom. I was afraid that after tonight, Ziggy would steal that from me too.

Callum slipped into bed wearing just a pair of black sleep pants. I watched him rearrange his pillows, making a pile before he sat up against them.

"Aren't you sleeping?" I mumbled, wiggling a little closer.

"Was going to read for a little while. Will the light bother you?" Cal reached over and lightly touched my head, ruffling my hair slightly.

I didn't know what was happening between us, if this was just Callum's caring side coming out, but I wanted to bask in it. I wanted to feel the full force of Daddy Cal watching over me while I slept. It was ridiculous and I could probably blame it on what had gone down tonight, but I just wanted to be close enough to smell him, to hear his breaths as he read.

Cal tilted his head and smiled at me. "Come here." He patted the spot next to him.

I shuffled over until I was almost on top of him. Doc did say I needed to sleep on my front after all, and Callum's chest was the perfect pillow. I rested my face against Cal's chest, wiggling until I was comfortable, my back aching less in this new position. I brought my hand up to rest on his pecs. Feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath my hand helped me slow my own breathing. Cal's fingers absently brushed through my hair as he hummed under his breath, something soft I'd heard him hum when settling Alice after a nightmare. I squinted up, trying to decipher the book he was reading, but the words on the cover looked like a strange mess of scrawls. "What are you reading?"

"Poetry."

I squinted again at the swirling letters. "It's not in English."

Cal tipped the book down so I could get a better look. "It's Cyrillic. Russian. My grandad was born in Russia and came here when he was a small boy. His father, my great-grandfather, was a railway engineer and came out here to work on the engines and ended up staying. When my grandad grew up, he fell in love with a Yorkshire lass and they got married and had my mum."

"So, there is a bit of Russian bear in you." I snickered against his chest.

Callum snorted softly. "More like scrappy wolverine. But yeah, I learned to read a little bit of Cyrillic as a kid and started brushing up on it not long ago, so I could read this in its original language." He held out the book.

"What's it about?" My eyes started to drift shut, the sound of Callum's voice soothing.

"It's a book of poetry by Alexander Pushkin."

"You don't strike me as a poetry type person," I answered, absently running my finger over the tattoo of Alice on Cal's chest.

"And I wouldn't take you for a guy who loves his plushie. Seems there is lots about each other for us to learn," Cal answered, scratching my scalp softly. I liked the sound of that. It made me believe that maybe he hadn't given up on me .

"Could you read me a little bit?" I yawned loudly against Cal's skin.

"Alright, but close your eyes for me and try to get some rest, okay?"

I nodded, letting my eyes drift shut as Callum's deep voice started to recite the poem.

"A magic moment I remember:

I raised my eyes, and you were there

A fleeting vision, the quintessence

Of all that's beautiful and rare."

I was in The Pit again. I couldn't see but I knew I was there. My arms and legs were bound and this time there was a gag in my mouth. I couldn't scream! Someone was moving behind me and they were going to hurt me. It was Ziggy. He was going to hurt me, and Daddy wouldn't stop him in time.

I don't have a Daddy! I don't deserve one.

"Mouse, wake up!"

No, that wasn't Daddy. He wasn't here to save me. I was getting what I deserved.

"Mitchell Johannsen, wake up!"

I blinked up into Cal's worried eyes, pulled out of the nightmare. I became aware of searing pain in my back, and Cal's rough hand holding my face.

"Are you back with me, little Mouse?" Cal peered at me as if he was trying to look into my brain. It was disconcerting and scary but also felt good, like someone cared about what was going on in the mess that was my brain .

I wasn't sure if I was okay. Had I ever been?

Part of my head was still back in that room. I couldn't shake the last vestiges of the dream. I winced, the welts on my back pulling where I'd rolled over during the night.

"Hold on, let me help." Cal sat up and gently helped me into a sitting position. I still felt nauseous and cold, and I missed the warmth of Callum's hands as soon as he stopped touching me. I started to shiver when Callum got off the bed.

"W-where are you going?" I felt like I was shaking out of my skin, my nerves on a razor's edge.

"I'm not going far, just to get you a fresh glass of water and some pain pills. I forgot to bring them upstairs." I took a deep breath before I nodded, not trusting my voice not to crack, and watched Cal leave the room. I looked around the bed, searching for the familiar green fur, and found Oscar on the edge of the bed. I must have flung him there during my nightmare.

"Hey dude, nearly lost you over the edge." I plucked him up and hugged him to my chest, breathing a little easier. I was antsy and out of sorts. I wanted Da— Callum —to hurry up.

Shit. What the fuck was wrong with me?

I was just starting to think that I should get up and find Cal when he came back into the room carrying a tray filled with something that smelled good. He set the tray down at the end of the bed and took the small bottle of pills and opened it, tipping two pills out into his palm and passing them to me.

"Here you go." Callum handed me an opened bottle of water. "Drink this to wash them down, then I have something nice for you."

I swallowed the pills quickly, eager to see what else Callum had brought upstairs with him.

Once he was satisfied I'd taken the pills and my back wasn't bleeding, he brought the tray up to me. My favourite cow mug, full of hot chocolate with the baby marshmallows I loved floating on top, and a plate full of toasted cheese sandwiches. At my quizzical smile, he gave a lopsided grin.

"Can always tell when you've had a bad night. I can smell these bad boys cooking." Callum pointed to the toasted sandwiches. He sat down alongside me and picked up his own mug—a very boring brown one, not like my cow mug.

"Mum always said that cheese late at night gave you nightmares, but I swear it works the other way round for me." Reaching out, I grabbed one of the toasties and took a bite. How could I explain how the taste of the strong Red Leicester cheese and the toasted bread made me feel safe? Like I was ten years old again and sitting in front of the fire, eating toasted sandwiches while annoying Simon. It was the taste of home, and comfort, and all the things I missed.

I alternated between sipping my hot chocolate and eating my toasties. The terror of my nightmare, while not forgotten, felt distant for the moment as I sat there eating my favourite comfort food with Oscar and Callum nearby. Soon I was full, but I resisted the urge to lie back down. The thought of having another nightmare made me feel leery about trying to sleep again, at least for a while.

Cal, as if reading my mood, grabbed the remote to the TV that sat on the tall chest of drawers and turned it on. SpongeBob appeared on the screen and Cal chuckled softly. "Alice was watching her shows in here yesterday. Want me to change the channel?"

"No, leave it." I was embarrassed to admit the yellow sponge was just the sort of show I needed right now. The nightmare had left me shaken and scared, but Callum's gentle doting and the taste of the sandwiches helped smooth the jagged edges of the hurt. In their place, my brain had gone all fuzzy and warm. It wasn't like how my brain went when I hit subspace. It was softer, more like how I felt at Christmas, playing with Rhys. I didn't know how to explain it, or if I could. I just relaxed and let myself enjoy it for a little while. Callum smiled at me when I got the giggles over something Patrick did, and I grinned back, taking another large bite of my toasted sandwich.

Once we finished eating, Cal got up and moved the tray and empty plates away before climbing back into bed. He settled back on his pillows like he was ready to stay awake with me all night. Guilt started to gnaw at me. Just because I couldn't sleep, didn't mean I should make Cal stay awake.

"I can go crash in my room. You don't have to stay awake with me."

"Mouse, come here." He patted the bed alongside him.

I grabbed Oscar and moved closer to Callum. I fidgeted, not sure if I should lay back on him like I had before. I wanted to cuddle again. I wanted to fall asleep listening to the steady, strong thump of his heart.

Cal arched a brow and beckoned me closer. "Rest your head here,"—he pointed to his chest—"and lay on your side. "

He waited patiently for me to get comfortable. Without overthinking it, I stretched up and kissed Cal's bearded cheek.

"Thank you. I know I'm an ungrateful shit at times, but all this, and you coming to The Pit…" I dropped my head to his chest, not sure what else to say.

"You don't have to thank me little Mouse. I'll always be there for you, even when you're being a little shit."