My Blood Wolf

Chapter Nine-Comfort

Chapter Nine-Comfort

            John didn’t take me to the pack house. Instead he booked a small hotel room for the three of us. The room consisted of two beds, a single and a queen size bed; that one’s going to be mine and Hope’s bed, a small cupboard, a door that most likely lead to the bathroom and two small tables next the beds with a lamp on each of them. The walls were grey, although they looked they were once white, yellow curtains on the windows, a small kitchen that could probably only fit one person at a time and the carpet was soft to the touch. John wouldn’t know that though, he’s actually wearing shoes.

As soon as I stepped into the room, I ran and collapsed onto the largest of the beds, but instantly jumped back up at how soft it was. After sleeping on cold floors, in cages and a bed practically made up of wire, anything soft felt uncomfortable and weird. I can’t even recall the last time I slept on an actual bed. In a mortal’s eye, it’s seems like forever ago. I can only imagine how Hope will cope (hey, that rimes). She has never slept on anything remotely comfy in her whole life. That’s not her fault though. It’s mine, for being such a bad daughter to my father. Maybe if I behaved better as a child, he might’ve treated me better.

No, I pushed that thought away instantly. There’s no excuse for what he’s done to me. No one should have been treated that way. No one deserves to be raped either. There are just some sick, disturbed people in this world. And there’s nothing anyone can do to stop them. In the corner of my eye, I saw Hope move cautiously over to where I stood, staring at the bed.

“What that, mummy?” asked Hope, pointing at the bed.

“That’s a bed, sweetie. It’s what people sleep on,” I smiled down at her.

“Is Johnathan going do to you what Dom does?”

“No, sweetie, Dom is a very bad person, OK? But John is a good person, he won’t do that to either of us.” I knelt down so I was eye level with her and rested my hand on her cheek. Poor Hope, I thought. There is so much about this world that she doesn’t know. Now that I think about, I don’t know a whole lot either. I never went to school and my father only educated me with his problems.

“That’s right, I won’t.” I jumped at the sudden voice of John. To be honest, I completely forgot he was even there. That sounds bad, considering he’s my mate. John smiled down at me and Hope. “I would never hurt you or your mother, Hope. I just met the two of you, but I already feel a bond with you.” He was speaking to Hope, but looked at me.

I smiled gratefully at him. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but I’ll admit I was a little worried about Hope and it was nice to have him say it out loud. Johnathan slowly reached out a hand and by some miracle, I didn’t flinch from his touch, and allowed him to rest his strong hand upon my shoulder. Sparks flared and heat rose to my cheeks.

“You look adorable when you blush,” whispered Johnathan.

“What blush?” asked Hope. Johnathan looked to me, expecting me to answer for him, but sadly, I didn’t know what blush was either. I was locked up since I was four years old.

“Blushing is when someone gets embarrassed when someone makes fun of them or gets a complement off of someone.” If that’s the case, then I defiantly blushed. I wonder if John felt the sparks too. “So, what do you want to do? Oh, you need cloths of course, so we should go get some for both you and Hope.” He looked down and noticed that the only form of clothing I had was his T-shirt. “Right, maybe I should get the cloths, and you stay here.”

He patted me on the shoulder and walked from the room. How will he know my size? I thought. And of course Audreanna had to make a comment on that.

He’s our mate, he knows everything about us, she whispered, dreamily. She’s whipped already. Although, if I wasn’t tortured with what Dom has done to me, I’m sure I would be just as whipped as she is, maybe even more so.

If he knows everything about us, he would know what father had done to us; he would know who we really are instead of questioning me about it. He may be our mate, but he does not know us, and I don’t want him to.

Please, you know he won’t hurt us. Don’t distance yourself from him, she begged.

You know I will try, but I cannot make any promises.

* * * * * *

            By the time Johnathan returned, Hope was fast asleep on the floor. She had refused to sleep on the bed, complaining it was too soft. I agree with her. I lay on the ground beside her, happily playing with her hair as I watched her sleep. I looked up as Johnathan walked in the door, carrying at least twelve bags, I think. I can’t count any higher then fifteen. My mother showed me how to count with my fingers and over the years, I learned to count up to fifteen so far. I still feel stupid though and Johnathan probably knows what a million times a million equals.

            “Why aren’t you on the beds asleep, instead of the floor?” was the first thing he asked me.

            “Hope and I are not used to soft and plush beds. The floor is more comfy,” I replied. I looked up at him and saw his shocked expression, and then it turned to pity, then anger. “Why are you angry?”

            “You shouldn't have gone through what you did, you should’ve been treated like a princess.” Already I can see that he cares about me a lot. And I cannot deny that I feel something too. If he really saw me, with all my scars and not just a quick glance like he already has, he would turn away in disgust.

            “You don’t even know half of what happened to me,” I whispered, but I knew he heard me.

I looked back down at Hope and gently rolled her off of me. I stood up, grabbed Johnathan’s hand and pulled him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us. Without looking back at him, I pulled the shirt off that he gave me, revealing my naked body and all my scars. I looked up at him then. I watched him as he watched my body. I watched him as he walked around my body, studying every inch of flesh. I didn’t shy away. I didn’t crumble under the shame I felt. I welcomed his eyes, for he didn’t look at me like I was a scared little girl, he looked at me like I was a survivor of something terrible. His eyes told the truth. I was a survivor of something terrible, but only because he saved me from my torture.

A/N

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