Set Me Free

Stormy Nights

I sense he wants to sleep, and I am thankful for the lapping flames that warm me, that he gave me so many blankets and even a pillow. I sink down into the springy cushions of the couch. When we had a home, we had a couch, but no one was allowed to sit on it. It was white, expensive, and even the guests seemed to know to stay away, or my mother in all her diamonds and pearls would blow a gasket.

When I glance back over at him, his head's turned, and his pale green and gold eyes are staring right through me. I feel my eyes begin to water. I've been reminiscing too much about my old life. I do it a lot, and it annoys Josh, but we always play a game, telling each other the best things we remember from childhood. After the uprootings began, our family was sent into hiding—guarded quite vehemently because of my father's standing in politics.

I was fifteen when it all finally crumbled around us. Much older than most who succumbed to such a fate. Josh was eighteen at the time. I still remember fleeing in the night with him, sobbing my heart out as we left our mother and father and safety behind. I sniffle, wiping my cheek with the back of my hand.

Braxton shifts beside me, and I flinch away from him. I can hear his annoyed huff, can feel him shift again, bringing himself closer.

"C'mere, little girly."

The tone of his voice is soft, still rough around the edges, and still gruff. It's warm, though, and today has been shit, and after him punishing me with his belt, for some reason being near him sounds...nice, comforting.

I scoot closer. He drapes a blanket over his nudity before grasping my hips and planting me firmly on his lap, facing him. Before I can think straight or wrap my mind around anything else, I collapse into his chest and sob.

***

Braxton

Little girly has had a long ass day. Should've expected a breakdown at some point. Still don't know about her past, or where she comes from, but I do intend to find out before our three months are up. She's fast asleep now, curled into me as the storm outside ebbs. Can't wait to see what fuckin' damage I'll have to deal with tomorrow.

I rub a lock of her silky, dirty blonde hair between my thumb and forefinger. She's quite the puzzle; feisty, a spoiled fuckin' brat and about as manipulative as they come. A dangerous woman, with those eyes and those curves and the way that sharp mind of hers thinks. But I see right through her, right to the heart of her; she's never had a tough go before, not really. She needs a strong presence—a man to coral her in, to keep her sights set on productive things and not destroyin' things because she's had a bad day.

I wonder for a moment what her parents were like, when I realize I already know; I can picture it clear as day in my mind. Too busy to keep their kids in line and show 'em the love they crave. I picture Girly havin' a sibling or two, 'cause humans can't help but fuck like rabbits and pop out a bunch of kids.

Even now, she's spoiled, has a rose-tinted view of this fucked up world. I s'pose that's good in some cases, but she needs to learn real quick that it ain't always gonna be that way. I fight to stay alive. Puttin' in tags for slaves is just a perk to keep things interestin' for spectators. I can keep winnin' her if I want, when that time comes.

Twenty three. I have twenty three fights left to win, and I'll be a free fuckin' man. I squeeze her tight to my chest in my own excitement. The very thing I was convicted of is now the thing I do every time I step into that damned ring; kill. I stroke my beard with my free hand as those memories beat at me, always festerin' no matter how hard I push it down. Life's a bitch. I was robbed of my joy, and I took care of it. Didn't bother me none, the justice I doled out.

She shifts in my lap, snuggling further into me, her little head tucked up tight under my chin. I'll keep her safe, from herself, from the monsters of my world. I lean back with a growl. Haven't read through her files yet. Wonder if she remembers going through all those exams I hear so much about. Kinda hope she doesn't.

That damn Levi fucker, showin' up here. They know not to come on my property. He made a gamble and lived. Can't imagine givin' her up, just so some sick fuck will knock her up. She's just a kid—a grown ass woman, but a kid all the same. She don't know the harsh realities of my society.

A small whimper pulls my attention back to her round face. She's flawless, skin pale as moonbeams, brows thin and dark, eyes so blue they could be gemstones, and a body so curvy even my own hand has troubles cuppin' the swell of her ass or tits. Her little waist and thin arms and gaunt face tell me she's been hungry for a while, though.

She blinks those round baby blues open, the glow of the fire soft and golden on her face. She tenses, eyes jutting up to my face. There is a sense of resignation about her, but there is a new feel to her; urgency. I pride myself on being good at readin' people, and humans are about as open as a damn book. She has somethin' on her mind, somethin' important she wants to get back to. I ignore it for now; can't punish her for her thoughts.

"Gonna throw a temper tantrum and trash you dinner, girly?"

Her eyes round, and she shakes her head quickly, cheek rubbin' soft against my hard chest. Been a while since I felt the warmth of a woman. Kinda nice. I chuckle.

"Damn. My belt was itchin' for another go."

Her cheeks flame, and she fixes me with a glare.

"You can't treat me like an animal," she hisses.

"Oh?" I mock with a chuckle. Her bravado is short lived, though, when I clap my hand over her mouth and push her down until she's laying in my lap. She whines against me, twisting, but I push her face further into my crotch, straining to hear that noise again.

"Hush up," I hiss, giving her face a shake. I listen once more; nothing but a softer rain, droplets slipping off trees, rivulets draining into mud puddles from the gutters. And then, the footsteps.

A/N: So far, I think I'm team Brax. Sofia annoys me already, and I'm the one writing her! Thoughts??