My second novel with Martin Sisters Publishing has been released. This one began with a picture for the first round of the Beyond the Pale Contest. The excerpt below was inspired by the picture of a girl in a short tartan skirt and skinned, bleeding knees. After writing just this snapshot, I had to continue the story. The main character is actually George. He's the one trying to find James, who raped his daughter. When he finds Lila, he can't help but feel responsible for her too. Thickness of Blood is about what makes family and what doesn't. I hope you'll consider stopping by MartinSistersPublishing. com for a closer look.
Tag had always been Lila's favorite game. Not only did she love to run, she loved to be chased. She would let her pursuer come close, only to turn and sprint away in a new direction. She didn't get to play anymore.
"Lila!" her mother would chide. "Young ladies do not run." It was worse now that her breasts had started to form. They were still small, but apparently the way they moved was indecent.
Lila didn't care. She'd seen boys noticing them and liked it. She also loved the way it felt to run.
She didn't want to run anymore, didn't want to be chased. She wished James had never noticed her, or maybe that she hadn't noticed him.
"Lila. I thought this was tag, not hide-and-seek." His voice was light and playful, but Lila knew he wasn't playing.
Hands gripping her thighs, tearing her panties away from under her skirt.
That was the first time he had caught her. He hadn't held onto her, though, his hands releasing her immediately after the loud tearing and her scream. She had run away, only to be chased again.
She had thought it was a game. When she had sat to tea with Mother, he had watched her. His smile was sweet and he was quite handsome. He was older, twenty to her fourteen. Still, she had thought he liked her, would tickle and kiss her. So when Mother had dismissed him and gone into the house, Lila had tagged him and run, hoping he would chase her.
If this was a game, she didn't want to play anymore. Her hair was tangled and full of twigs and dirt. Her arms and legs were covered in scratches. Her breath came in panting gasps, lungs burning.
He'd caught her three times, and she was sure the next would be the last. At least, she wouldn't be able to run anymore. Already, only her wits had kept him from catching her twice more. She was slowing, tripping more often, and he wasn't.
He didn't even breathe hard, his broad chest rising and falling smoothly. His sharp eyes scanned the tree line, searching for her. She could feel them when they found her. She turned and ran again through the thickest brush, snagging clothes and limbs.
She jumped a fallen log and caught her toe, falling hard in the leaf litter.
James landed atop her, knees on either side of her waist.
"Lila, Lila, Lila. You give good chase." He pulled the hair off her neck as she wept with pain into her arms.
"Please," she begged.
"Mmmm," he purred, licking her neck and ear, making her shudder with fear. "Please what?"
"P-please, let me go."
"I've always let you go, Lila. Haven't I?" he asked. His hand slid up her thigh under her skirt, where her panties no longer covered her.
"Please," she begged again.
He tsked as his hand cupped her bottom. He pressed her hip down and shifted his weight, his mouth by her ear again. "I love to hear you beg," he whispered. "You'll beg for more."
She sniffled as he reached up the back of her shirt and opened the back of her training bra. "D-don't hurt me," she begged.
"Have I hurt you, Lila?" he asked sweetly, his lips still on her ear.
She whimpered, unwilling to answer. He had groped her; he had exposed her. He had kissed her neck roughly, but he could do so much worse.
"I hope not. That wasn't my intention," he said soothingly. His hand slid to where no one had touched her before, where she knew babies and blood would come, but hadn't yet. She'd dreamed of being kissed, not ... this. She didn't want him to touch her there.
He just touched though, teasing.
"P-please," she whimpered again.
"You want that?"
"N-no!"
Too late, his finger slid inside her. She kicked one leg, but he pinned her thigh with a knee.
"Hold still," he warned in a soft voice. "It will hurt if you move too much."
She cried into her arms, willing the whole evening away.
"You must have wanted this, at least a little. Why else would you have approached me?" He pulled his hand away and backed up, sitting on his heels. A small reprieve.
She sniffled and pulled her legs under her. She couldn't run anymore. She couldn't fight him, he was too fast and too strong.
"Well? There was some reason you tagged me, Lila. What was it?"
"I-I thought you we-were beautiful. I-I thought you might l-like me." She continued to weep.
"Shhhhh." He pushed her hair back and stroked her cheek. She could smell something on his fingers and knew it was herself. She shuddered from his touch. "I do like you, Lila. Can't you tell?"
She sank a little lower, hunching in on herself, gripping her knees. They were scraped and bleeding.
"Oh, you poor thing," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her broken skin. His tongue lapped at the blood still oozing from the freshest cuts.
Something in the tender kiss, the care for her small pains, made her stop cringing away from him. "James?"
When his eyes lifted to hers, his smile was predatory. "Do you have any idea how good my name sounds on your lips?" he asked. "Yes, Lila, my butterfly?" He stroked her freckled cheek and she sniffed back tears again.
"Why are you doing this?"
He closed his eyes, obviously irritated and seeking patience. "Because I want you. I want you to be mine. Mine alone." His eyes locked on hers, steady, solid, reassuring. She wasn't scared anymore. She had been taught to obey her elders, and in this moment, James' authority seemed obvious.
"Why?" she whispered, not trembling any longer.
He ran his thumb down her throat, into the collar of her blouse, popping open the first button. "Because you are beautiful. Because no one else has had you, so you can be mine completely."
She gasped. His fingers continued to work down her shirt, popping buttons all the way, popping several right off. Her bra hung loosely on her shoulders. She expected the fear to return and didn't understand when it didn't.
One hand wrapped around her throat, his thumb pressing in under her chin. "Hold very still," he warned. The other tracked up her stomach, under her bra and cupped her tiny breast, his thumb rubbing the sensitive flesh.
She moaned, part in pain, part in pleasure. His touch was gentle, but her breasts were so tender. He would feel the vibrations of her throat through his hand.
"Yes, Lila." He leaned forward, his nose alongside hers.
She closed her eyes, awaiting her first kiss. He brushed her nipple as he kissed her, making her tremble again. "You are mine, aren't you?" he asked after their first, brief contact of lips.
"Yes," she answered.
"You will never run from me again will you?"
"No," she breathed.
"Good. I'm going to let you go now. You are going to go home. When you are in your bed, you are going to think of me. And you are going to touch yourself, here." He brushed her nipple again, making her gasp. "And here." He slid his hand down between her knees, tapping her pubic bone. "I'll be watching, Lila. I will know."
She sniffled and nodded slightly against his easing grip.
"Can you find your way home?" he asked, taking his hand from her throat and pushing back her hair.
"Y-yes." She tucked her chin, trying to protect her throat. She stared at her stained skirt.
He kissed her forehead, then her nose. "I'm glad. Make me proud." Her eyes shot up to his, confused. Kissing her again, he pressed his lips more firmly to hers. "Fly, my butterfly."
He stood and turned, walking away and leaving her alone with her scrapes and tears.
Lila sniffed twice more, wiping the tears from her cheeks before standing and buttoning as many buttons as she had left. She stumbled home.
"Lila! Where have you been? And what on earth have you been doing?! Look at you!" Her mother was livid. It wasn't the first time she'd played tag in brambles and ruined clothing, just the worst. "Well, you've missed supper, and if you hadn't, you wouldn't be getting any. Into the tub with you!"
Kicking off her untied shoes, Lila made her way to the bathroom. She avoided looking in the mirror while the tub filled and tried not to see her damaged clothes as she piled them on the floor. She couldn't avoid wincing when the hot water stung all her open cuts, and her eyes were drawn to the darkening bruises all over her legs and arms.
She closed her eyes and submerged her head in the water, willing it to wash her mind clean as well.
Wrapped in a towel, she finally dared look at herself in the mirror. Her skin was red from the hot water, but not enough to hide the thumbprint on her throat, half-hidden under her chin.
"James," she whispered as she touched it. Dropping her towel, she looked at her adolescent body. Her breasts were there, that wasn't deniable. She cupped them briefly, seeing how much the flesh moved. She looked lower and saw the red hairs that had started growing above the joining of her legs. She hated them. They were ugly and coarse.
She lifted her eyes to the mirror again, looking back at herself. She saw him looking at her, his eyes in place of hers. Squeezing them shut, she grabbed towel and clothes and ran from the room.
She lay on her bed, unable to sleep. She fought tears as she obeyed his last order. Her breasts were still tender as she touched them. The saltwater leaked out anyway, and she rolled to her side, continuing to massage one breast. She touched the coarse curls forming on her sex and gagged.
There was a tap on her window and her head whipped up. There was no one there, but another tap followed, a small stone.
Wiping her face, she found her nightgown and pulled it on before opening her window. It took a minute, but she found him in the tree across from her.
He blew her a kiss before jumping down. Apparently that was enough for tonight. She lay down in her bed and wondered if it would be very bad to belong to James.