APPETITE Read online

  "No. Let me finish," she said, giving him a sad smile. "You have a right to know." She took another deep breath, shuddering a bit and hugging herself tightly.

  "Still, through it all, I kept thinking that my marriage, my husband, would be my savior. That was my hope, that was my grace. I was doing this for him, and he would bring me back to life and this would fade to a bad dream. Until..." she paused, taking a few deep breaths, "until they finally took off their little bands. I was being fucked by three men at the same time and I looked to my husband, my savior, to find him eating cold pizza and drinking a soda.

  "When they were finally done, they dressed and walked out, tossing a bag of white powder on the table. I sat on the couch, a mess, sore, crying, and my husband -- my love, my life, my hope -- couldn't even touch me, comfort me, hold me.

  "Hell, he barely even looked at me. Instead, he picked up the bag and ran into the bathroom, tossing a 'thanks babe' back over his shoulder.

  "Like I'd just bought him a burger or something."

  She looked at Damien, a cruel smile on her lips. "Do you know how much drugsselling your wife to three men will get you? Hmm?" He shook his head, his hands clenching into fists and unclenching.

  She turned and looked towards the horse. " Four days' worth. I know because four days later Keith went crazy. I came home from work and he just sort of...detonated. He started beating me, throwing me in to the walls and kicking me. At one point he broke a chair over me.

  "He kept...screaming at me...accusing me of being with those three guys and fucking them when I was supposed to be at work. He kept saying over and over that Iwanted it, that I wanted to have a cock in my ass and my cunt and my mouth, that it was my idea. He kept calling me a slut and a whore. Telling me over and over that only a whore would come from three guys in front of her husband. And even though I'd tried to fight it --I tried to fight my own biology with everything I had -- I started to believe him. I started to think he was right." She stopped for a moment, catching her breath between her sobs.

  "He pushed me over the table then. Grabbed my hair in his fist and slammed my head in to it, gashing it open." She turned her head towards him, pointing to the scar running down from her hairline. "He ripped down my pants and...and...and then he raped me. I didn't know husbands could rape their wives. But they can." She stopped again, breathing harshly and grimacing, putting the back of her hand to her mouth waiting for a wave of nausea to pass before picking up the narrative again.

  "At the end, he grabbed one of our kitchen knives -- and it's weird, but I remember noticing he'd grabbed one of the ones he had bought me for our first anniversary, a Wusthoff -- and carved up my abdomen. To make sure no one would ever get tricked by me the way he did." Charlie was barely keeping herself together at this point. Her body so tight with tension that Damien was afraid she'd physically snap in two. She turned and walked towards him, a slight snarl on her face.

  "My scars, Damien, are a warning. A warning to any man who might ever be interested in someone like me." She put her hands on the hem of her t-shirt. "You really want to see what they are?" He nodded at her and she lifted her shirt off, dropping it at her feet as she stood up straight in front of him. "Get a good, long look.," her voice was toneless, dead, but Damien could smell her fear plainly.

  On her stomach, just below her bra was the word WHORE. It had been carved into her flesh in shaky letters about two inches high, the word easily discernible in the shiny skin of the resulting scars.

  "It's my label. My title. My badge." She gave him an apologetic smile as she fought back the sobs that threatened to tear her apart. "I'm a whore. I fucked three men and liked it."

  "No," Damien growled, unable to stop himself from stepping to her and putting his arms around her.

  Charlie broke then, sobbing loudly and fighting to get away, but he held her tightly. He didn't talk, he didn't caress, he just stood there under the tree, his arms around her as she sobbed and struggled. He held her in silence, giving her his strength as her struggles to get away ceased. He held her fast until she put her arms around him and grabbed on to him tightly as she wept against his chest. His own tears fell down his cheeks unchecked, his wolf howling in pain.

  She slowly quieted as they stood in the shade with their arms around each other. When her sobs tapered down to the occasional shaky breaths and sniffle, Damien pulled his arms from around her to step back and cup her face. He looked down at the pain so evident in her eyes and felt his heart physically ache over what she had been through.

  "You are not a whore, Charlie." His voice was adamant, vehement.

  "I willingly - "

  "No." Damien cut her off. "You were raped, Charlie. You were not willing. You werecoerced, forced to agree." He ran his thumbs on her cheeks, refusing to break eye contact. "You consented to nothing. Nothing. You were coerced into an act due to your naïveté and unconditional love for your husband."

  Charlie tried to pull Damien's hands from her face but they wouldn't budge. She closed her eyes against the look in his.

  "Look at me, Charlie." His voice was low but firm. She opened her eyes and kept them on his. "You did nothing wrong, Charlie."

  "But I - "

  "You did nothing wrong, Charlie," he repeated, cutting her off again. "You have no fault, no blame. You did nothing wrong." He held her gaze, and search as she might, she saw no derision, no repulsion, none of the disgust that was so clear when he was looking at Mira. Just...warmth, compassion, tenderness. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak, but astonished herself when she began crying again.

  "C'mere," he murmured, taking her in his arms again and pressing her head to his chest. He gently ran a hand up and down her back, letting her cry.

  "I'm sorry," she said after she had settled down again. Her voice was hoarse and her cheeks were hot. He could feel them through his tear dampened t-shirt.

  "Don't be."

  "I can't believe I told you. God, Damien, it's like I'm compelled to. For whatever reason it just feels right, everything does, when I'm around you," she said after a long while. "Do you mind if...I mean, can we stay like this while I finish?"

  "Of course." He hugged her to him tightly, wanting to laugh at her question. It would be alright with him if she stayed where she was for eternity. He bent down and kissed her on top of her head. "Take your time."

  She took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh before continuing. "He ran out after he finished, and I laid on the floor where he left me. I remember praying -- seriously praying -- to God to let me die. It wasn't long after that the police and paramedics arrived. One of my neighbors heard the ruckus and called them. I was taken to the hospital and Keith was caught and taken to jail.

  "I didn't want to press charges. How sick is that, huh? I kept thinking to myself that he was right, you know." She unconsciously tightened her arms around Damien. "I had a dislocated jaw, a broken nose, two broken ribs, stitches in my head, abdomen, legs and arms, a concussion and sprained wrist.

  "Still, it was easier to accept I was what he said, to blame myself, than to blame him. To think that I meant so little...well, it was just easier to think of myself as the cause." She paused for a moment, thinking. "It still is, in a way. I haven't been out on more than one date with anyone since then."

  "Except me." He kissed the top of her head again, glad to find the scent of her anger and fear receding.

  "Is that what this is?" she asked with a shaky laugh, squeezing him briefly. "Then yeah. I guess so. Except you.

  "Anyway, on my second or third day in the hospital, a woman I'd never met before came in to see me. She came and sat on the edge of my bed as if we were great friends, looked me square in the eye and said 'Fuck him'. That was all. No introduction. No polite 'how are you'. Just those two words.

  "My shock must have shown because she just repeated them again.

  "'Fuck him'. God, she must have said that a hundred times. At first I thought it was funny. Then I started to get pissed.
r />   "Eventually I just cried, realizing she was right.

  "Fuck him.

  "Whatever my marriage had been, whatever my husband had been -- that was long gone when he even considered asking me to do...that." She paused, taking a few deep breaths. "Her name was Regina. She was a 'victim advocate'. She worked with the police and hospitals to help victims of domestic abuse. And help she did," Charlie sighed.

  "I did end up pressing charges and he was found guilty. I had to testify. To everything. And even though he had no prior criminal record, he got a 25 year sentence. The DA said it was because of my testimony. Whatever.

  "I filed for divorce and he actually had the nerve to try and contest it. From prison. It took two years but I was finally granted a divorce."

  "Is he still in prison?"

  "For now, yes. But he will be out on parole by September. Seems he's behaved himself and found Jesus."

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah. Jesus must be the worst repeat offender considering how often he's found in prison." Her voice sounded at once wounded, bitter and tired. "It's amazing, isn't it? He finds Jesus and all is forgiven, his conscience clear, yet I am condemned to live my life disfigured and disgusting."

  He put his hands on her shoulders and moved her to arms' length to look at her. He made it obvious to Charlie he was looking her up and down, and she could feel herself start to blush, acutely aware she was in shorts and a bra.

  "Nothing you said makes me feel or think any different, Charlie." He ran his hands over her scars, caressing them lovingly while holding her gaze. "This doesn't change anything. I still want you. I still want to be with you."

  "I'm damaged, Damien," she said quietly.

  "No." He smiled and bent to kiss her softly, his hand splayed on her abdomen. "You are perfection. Every inch of you." He pulled her back in to his embrace and held her tightly to him. He ran his hands up and down her back, stroking her skin gently. She sighed, closing her eyes to soak up his warmth. His stomach growled and she giggled.

  "The beast is hungry," she teased.

  "Yes, it is," he laughed back at her. "But it's dinnertime. And we didn't have lunch."

  "What?" she said, stepping out of his arms and crossing hers on her abdomen in that self-conscious gesture. It pained Damien to see her hide any part of herself from him, but he understood why she did it, and hoped she would eventually lose the need to do so. "I'm sorry." She looked at him sheepishly, and he swore to himself he would do everything he could to keep that wan redness out of her eyes for the rest of his life.

  "I'm not," he grabbed her face and gave her a deep kiss. He released her and knelt down to get her t-shirt for her, shaking it out before handing it to her. "But we should head back and get something to eat."

  He untied Hamlet and stroked his muzzle for a moment, murmuring to him, as Charlie put her shirt back on and shook out her hair. Damien glanced over at her as he adjusted the stirrups to find her hands on her hips, her head cocked as she looked at him with an odd expression. "What?"

  "What are you?" she asked, shaking her head. "I mean, I meet a gorgeous man in the middle of nowhere on the side of a nearly empty highway who is not only mouthwateringly sexy and acts like he's totally in to me, but easy to talk to and understanding to a fault, and lights me up when he laughs, not to mention electrifies me when he touches me? All because I practice shoddy vehicle maintenance? Really, I've known you for what, 24 hours, and it's like I've always known you, or always been meant to." She shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. "Maybe I'm just nuts."

  "Or maybe I'm just your fate," he said, his voice serious even with his broad smile. He was doing his best to remain calm while his wolf howled and jumped to hear her acknowledge the pull she was feeling. "Besides, it's been at least 28 hours since we met." She gave a snort at that and rewarded him with a smile as Damien quickly mounted the horse in one try.

  "Show off," she said, looking up at him as he walked them over to her and feeling suddenly shy.

  "Give me your hands and step on top of the stirrup, and I'll lift you up, dolcezza," he said, leaning down from the saddle. She did as directed and was easily lifted into the saddle in front of him. He positioned her as before, except he kept the reins in his right hand and put his left arm around her waist. "Ready?" he asked.

  She nodded and he started the horse off at a steady canter. Charlie squealed in delight, grabbing Damien's thighs in a death-grip.

  "Relax, dolcezza," he murmured into her ear. "I have you. You'll always be safe now." He kissed her ear.

  "I'm not afraid," she said breathlessly, leaning her head back to look at him with an excited smile. "Can you go faster?"

  "Anything for you, my Charlotte." He laughed and nudged Hamlet on to a moderate trot and she squealed again, making him laugh again and hold her tighter. Her hands still held his thighs with the same grip, but she leaned into the lope of the horse with him easily, the wind they generated brushing across her skin and through her hair, bathing him completely in her scent. Damien was in absolute heaven.

  He slowed them down as they approached the barn, not ready to give up this intimacy. He stopped them outside and lowered her down before dismounting himself. An older looking gentleman came out to take the horse from him.

  "Mr. Dimeo," he said with a respectful nod.

  "Quinn. How are you?"

  "I am well, thank you."

  "And Linda?"

  "She is well, getting bigger every day."

  "When is she due?"

  "Another six weeks."

  "That will be a fine day."

  "Indeed, sir."

  "Quinn, I would like you to meet Charlie."

  "Ma'am," he said, taking her hand for a moment and giving her a slight bow. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."

  "It's Charlie. Please." He just gave her a funny look and turned back to Damien.

  "Anything else, Mr. Dimeo?"

  "No. Thank you, Quinn." He grabbed Charlie's hand and led her towards the main house.

  "Damien, are those guard towers?" Charlie asked, pointing to the covered platforms at the corners of the barn.

  "No." He gave her a smile. "It's just an architectural feature."

  'I take it things went well,' Darian sent as Damien led her to the main house and up the back stairway.

  'Yes, I believe it did.'

  'And do we have a mating to celebrate?'

  'Not yet.' He sent his brother a synopsis of what Charlie had told him, feeling Darian's anger at what she went through.

  'Anything she needs, brother. Anything,' Darian said.

  'I know.'

  'Keep clear of Mira for a day or two. She didn't take the news of your mate well.'

  'Oh?'

  'Yeah. Eva is going to keep a close tab on her, but be careful just in case.'

  'Thanks.'

  "Come on, I'll make you dinner."

  "You don't have to do that."

  "I know. I want to."

  She tugged at his arm to stop him as he reached the landing. "Damien, I..." she trailed off, disentangling her hand from his and taking a breath to gather her courage. "You don't have to do this. Any of this. Really. I won't think any less of you."

  "What do you mean?" He looked at her closely.

  "I mean you don't...well...it's alright to go ahead and take me back to my room. I understand."

  "Do you?" he asked, walking towards her and making her back up. He gave her a look she didn't understand. "Do you really? Because I don't think you do." He had backed her up against the wall and leaned over her, a hand on either side of her head.

  "I don't want you to - " Her eyes were large and Damien could smell her anxiety. It hadn't crossed over to full-blown fear yet, but he knew it could.

  "Hush," he gently stopped her. "I told you nothing has changed, didn't I?" She nodded at him and he kissed her deeply, wanting to shout his relief as her hands lifted to touch him, sliding down his sides and coming to rest on his hips. He broke the kiss and smiled at her. "I will n
ever lie to you, my Charlotte," he whispered, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. "So no more of this nay-saying, alright?"

  "Alright," she said, her voice husky.

  He took her hand and led her to his rooms, standing aside to usher her in and closing the doors behind them. Charlie looked around the large main room, trying to take everything in all at once. This one room was bigger than almost any home she'd had. There was a formal looking sitting room, with a dark leather sofa, a chenille loveseat and two leather wing chairs arranged around a large stone fireplace on the far wall. The fireplace was bracketed by floor to ceiling windows. The furnishings were nice, definitely high end, but not overly opulent.