Chained (Caged #2)(15)

I had woken not seconds ago, a nightmare ripping through my mind and sending me spiralling into a fit of terror.

Brian’s laughter, joined by the cruel sneer of my mother, taunted me again and again, the scorching heat of my tears branding a route down my damp cheeks.

“It’s just a dream,” Anderson soothed as his hands framed my face and he forced me to see him. “Just a dream, little wolf.”

That goddamn stupid pet name slipped rage into my bloodstream and I angrily lashed out, the fright in me needing to find a quick outlet. “I’m not your f*cking little wolf,” I spat. “I’m not, you stupid cunt!”

I gasped, my neck snapping as Anderson’s palm struck my cheek and my face flung sideways. The sharp sting cracked the shell that was capturing my sanity and a sob ripped from me.

As if he wanted to play games, his brisk anger at my outburst vanished and he pulled me across and onto his lap. His arms enveloped me protectively as he very gently started to rock me.

“Shh,” he breathed into my hair. “Calm down.”

I clung to him like he could save me, as though he could change my past and give me a different life.

“I’m sorry,” I hiccupped. “I didn’t mean that.”

He nodded. “I know, just as I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Once again I was perplexed by his differing moods. Anderson did mean to hurt me, to such an extent that he would be the very last person my eyes would ever see. “But you do, Anderson. Over and over.”

He didn’t answer me, choosing to stay silent and not grant my confusion clarity.

“What was your dream?”

I stiffened and he turned me so I was still on his lap but facing him. It was still dark outside and I found myself in Anderson’s bed. I’d passed out after both Anderson and Robbie had f*cked me into oblivion, and as my vision cleared I couldn’t help but smile softly at Anderson’s messed up hair and the crease created by a wrinkle in the pillow that ran down his left cheek.

Tracing the sleep induced mark with my finger, I sighed. “This,” I whispered. “This is how I want to picture you forever. You have no barriers up. You are you, free from the obligation you force on yourself.”

He stared at me but didn’t make to move or push me away.

“This is the real you, Anderson Cain.”

“And which is the real you, Kloe Grant?”

Smiling again, I ran my thumb over his eye, wiping the tiny amount of sleep that had collected in the corner. “The real me came to say hello last night.”

His brow creased and he sighed as if he had expected my answer but refused to believe it. “I’m not so convinced.”

“Well you should be. I’m not sure how I can make you believe me.”

He drew both his thumbs across my lips, smearing the dampness from my tears that had gathered into the flush of my cheeks. “Tell me what you felt last night when I cut you. When both Rob and I f*cked you.”

Thinking about how to describe it, all I could say was, “I felt free.”

A shadow seeped into his eyes and he blinked it away. He nodded abruptly and lifted me off his knee, gently settling me on the bed. Without another word, he strolled out of the room, leaving me staring after him.

I couldn’t understand what I had said wrong. I had been as honest as I could, sensing it was important to him. Maybe I had it wrong. Maybe my reaction to what happened last night was ‘wrong’.

Anderson reappeared minutes later with a steaming cup. He nodded when he held it out to me. “Drink. It’s lemon and ginger. It should help settle your morning sickness.”

Silly little things like that endeared me to him further, the monster that resided in him cowering to the tender man I knew could dominate him if he allowed it.

“Thank you.” I took a sip, surprised by how much I liked it. “That’s nice.” I smiled up at him. He was gazing at me, a soft look in his eyes that was a rare spectacle. Not many people ever saw this side to him, but I knew he was the one who never allowed it. Anderson had to be hard to protect himself, to steel himself from the horrors that life haunted him with. Just like me, really.

He settled back down on the bed, propping himself up on the headboard. Carefully, so as to not spill my tea, he moved me until I was sat between his thighs with my back resting on his chest. We were both naked but I felt as comfortable as if my bare skin were covered in clothes.

“Tell me,” he ordered quietly.

I took another sip of the hot liquid and swallowed it down to lubricate my parched throat. “Can we trade? I share with you and you share a piece of you afterwards?”

He drew a long breath in through his nose, however I felt him nod behind me. His arms came around me, guiding the cup back to my mouth. “Drink. It will help.”

Doing as directed, I sipped again, relaxing as I felt the warm trickle in my queasy belly.

“I think… I think it was a memory, not a dream.”

He remained silent, patiently waiting for me.

I shuddered and he wrapped his legs around mine. His arms and his legs guarded me and I felt safe enough to continue.

“I was hungry.” My belly rumbled as if bringing the memory to life, so I took another sip to calm it. “My mother was sitting in an old chair in the corner of the attic, and Brian sat beside me on the bed. He had chocolate and a can of pop.” I couldn’t remember which brand it was, and for some reason that angered me. “He was angry at me.” I blinked, trying to remember why. “I think he wanted something in exchange for the treats. And I wouldn’t…”