I gasp, and reach up, tangling my hands into his long, thick hair.
He pulls his mouth off mine, and stares down at me with an intense, lusty stare. “That was...incredible.”
“You’re not mad?” I whisper.
“No one has ever defended me like that before.”
I give him a wobbly smile. “No one deserves to be treated like that.”
He runs his fingertip down the side of my face. “I’m going to finish dinner, but tonight...come to me, Number Thirteen.”
Come to him? My entire body sparks to life.
“To your room?” I whisper.
He nods, and presses his lips against mine again. Then he pulls back and begins to turn away, before looking over his shoulder and murmuring, “It’s time I made you mine.”
Oh.
He gives me one more look, and then he’s gone.
His...I become his.
Do I want to be his?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The rest of the night goes well. William spends time with his family, and they leave around 9pm. We’re all sent back to our rooms to shower and prepare for bed. My belly flutters as I think about going to William’s room. I think I know what he wants to do with me, but I’m not so sure I want to give it. I’m nervous, I don’t even know if I’ve ever done that before.
After my shower, I slip out of the room. Number Twelve watches me, her eyes narrowed, but she doesn’t ask where I’m going. I slowly make my way down the halls, swallowing down my nerves. I reach William’s room and I hesitate a long while. Is this wise? Is this what I want? Only a week ago I wanted to escape, now I’m here...feeling things I don’t ever recall feeling before.
I lift my hand and I knock.
A moment later, the door opens and William appears. He’s wearing only his pajama pants again, and my eyes automatically take in his large, muscled form. He reaches out, taking my arm and pulling me into the room. I go, still not sure if I’m ready to put up more of a fight. The minute the door closes, William spins me around and stares down at me.
“You’re frightened, Number Thirteen.”
“Is Emelyn my name?” I ask, shocking myself.
I’ve thought a lot ahou his.bout the name, but I didn’t plan on it being the first question I asked. William tilts his head and stares down at me, then he nods and answers with a soft, “Yes.”
I feel as though someone has balled up a fist and punched me right in the stomach. I can’t remember my life, but the last few weeks I’ve been nothing more than a number. Now, I have an identity. I reach out and steady myself using a table beside me.
“I know it’s hard to take in, but slowly, your memories are going to come back. They’re not going to be pleasant, Emelyn.”
I snap my head up at the sound of my name on his lips. It’s amazing.
“Say that again,” I whisper.
“Emelyn,” he murmurs, stepping closer.
He reaches up and strokes a piece of my hair from my face. I stare up at him, wanting to ask so much, needing so many answers.
“You said you wanted me tonight, William, but you need to know that there are questions I have...I can’t give myself to you if you can’t trust me enough to answer them.”
His expression doesn’t change, but he does nod.
“There is only so much I can give you, Beauty. You need to decide what question you want answered the most. I will only give you one.”
I study him for a moment, but I know what question I want to know the most. I need to know it to understand William, or at least make a little more sense of what’s happening here with him, with us.
“I want to know what happened?” I say, pointing to his eye.
He visibly stiffens, but he takes my hand and pulls me to the couch. He pulls me down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. I snuggle into him, and I let him take a moment to decide if he wants to give me what I’m asking for.
He does.
“I was a quiet kid, not the usual boisterous type. I didn’t have a backbone, I found it hard to communicate with others. Ben was my best friend, and mostly, he kept me out of trouble. My father adored Ben, he was the son he always wanted. I was just the...freak. I was too quiet, too gentle, too easy to push around.”
Hearing him use that awful word has me flinching. I called him a freak. Guilt swarms my chest, knowing what that must have done to him, and how much it must have hurt.
“My momma was soft, too gentle. She babied me. She didn’t stop me from being a weak, broken child. My father worked away a lot, but when he was home, he spent all his time with Ben. When Ben decided he wanted better schooling, my father sent him to this amazing, expensive boarding school. He left me behind. For a long while it was just me and Momma, my father was rarely home.”
He stops for a second, and entwines his fingers in mine. I won’t push him on this, he can tell me as much as or as little as he needs.
“I suddenly became her protector,” his voice sounds strained as he continues. “She cried so much. I was all she had. I didn’t burden her with my problems, she could barely deal with her own. So I didn’t tell her I was getting bullied at school. She made me go every day, and I did so graciously. Once again, I didn’t want to burden her anymore than I already was. The bullying started off quite mild. Head flushing, shoving into lockers, that kind of thing. But there was a boy, Marcel, who took great pleasure in watching me suffer. It got to a point where I almost became his obsession.”