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"This is a ruthless world and one must be ruthless to cope with it."
-Charlie Chaplin
My body went rigid, mental klaxons were wailing and my senses went on high alert. At the same time, however, they were locked in mortal combat with my rising panic and it was a tossup as to who was winning.
There was someone in here with me, and they had closed the door behind them.
I kept one hand on the shelf and made to turn towards where I knew the door to be. It was hard to listen for movement when the sound of your thundering heart canceled out every other single thing. I took maybe a few steps before I caught a whiff of cologne. The scent made my nose crinkle up, the mint and citrus notes did no favors with the body chemistry of my stalker.
A rag was unceremoniously crammed in my mouth as I opened it to scream and a thick zip tie was closed around my head, keeping me from being able to spit it out, digging into the corners of my mouth and ripping strands of hair out. My fight or flight instinct kicked in hard but before I could grab for anything on the shelves to weaponize or even turn, I was off my feet. Pain exploded first in my cheek, then made itself known in other places. It took me a few seconds to realize that I had been flung to the tile floor. That was all the time he needed though.
I made to jump up, bracing my hands against the floor to shove myself up hard but all that happened was that I smacked down against the tile again, courtesy of a large, sock covered foot between my shoulder blades. That explained why I didn't hear him. I was going to get a concussion or worse if whoever this was kept treating me like a basketball. Speaking of which, who was in here with me? Had someone from the rival cartel managed to sneak past all the defenses? Was it someone from here? Both? Neither?
As quick as lightning my hands were yanked behind me, secured with zip cuffs that the police frequently carried on them now. A length of silk wrapped around my eyes and then the weight was gone. I could see the light reappear at the bottom of my blindfold. A large, solid and masculine body hovered above a hair's breadth from my back. A nose ran along the side of my jaw and behind my ear, inhaling, his chest brushing against my shoulders. He laid down something near my head and I wriggled against the floor to shift it just enough to peek out of the bottom of the blindfold. For just a second I saw what must have been night vision goggles before the blindfold was secured more firmly and I could see nothing again.
Fuck!
"Lovely to see you again, Bella," he whispered.
My heart stuttered and then came back in double-time.
It was James.
Jasper's warning didn't work after all.
My stomach lurched, not helped any by the rank citrus odor.
I tried to scream but the rag and zip tie cancelled out that effort. That didn't mean I stopped. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going to happen with me being immobilized and gagged in an out of sight, out of mind place with Char unintentionally serving as the perfect distraction. Anything I might be able to do, kick something over, make some odd noise, whatever may alert anyone going through the kitchen and it was worth trying.
When he nipped the back of my neck and started trying to pull the skirting of my dress up it was like someone had stuck a live wire to me. I bucked and screamed against the gag, kicking and flailing, feeling with my cuffed hands as best I could for something, anything. My fingers grazed against the fabric of his slacks but couldn't make purchase anywhere.
Then my head made contact with the floor for a third time. A haze threatened the edges of my consciousness. I shook it off, I couldn't give in. It would be easier to give in to darkness but not knowing exactly what would happen to me would haunt me for the rest of my days. If I had the knowledge then I could cope in some form or fashion. Maybe Jasper would let me see a therapist.
My eyelashes pressed uncomfortably against the fabric. When I snapped back to reality I found that he had bunched the skirting up around my waist. I made to struggle again when the click of a knife stopped me dead.
He ran the back of the blade up my outer thigh, across my panties to my waist, and then back down. On the return route he slipped the blade underneath the delicate fabric. It split easily under the monstrously sharp blade. He repeated the process on the other side, the fabric pulling together now that it was free from being stretched across me. Then suddenly it was gone from my body entirely, having been yanked out from under me.
I heard the sound of him inhaling deeply. It was a hard fought and won battle against my gag reflex but if I didn't keep it down I'd most likely drown. I didn't want to die and I sure as hell didn't want to choke to death on my own vomit. I resorted to breathing in through my nose and out around the gag, which I had just managed to work mostly in front of my tongue to help my odds against partially swallowing it and then Jimi Hendrixing.
Where was my abductor when I needed him?!
When he started to move is when I slammed my legs together and hooked my ankles. He took a second to view my lower body and paused.
"Well, I suppose the rumors are true about the head of house here, judging by the looks of you," he chuckled.
He drug the tips of his fingernails against parts of my bruising, eliciting a pained hiss from me. The bastard! Those hurt enough without him adding to it!
"I can imagine he's already had you at least once today, the way you two stayed cozied in your little nest all morning. So, I'll just have to enjoy another part of you," he said lowly.
His words circled my brain for a minute before comprehension hit. No, no, no, no and hell no. He took two steps before I started trying to get to my knees. Then he was back on top of me, taking advantage of the way I unlocked my legs to try to get up. Back to the floor I went, now with him between my thighs. I fought against him, trying to close them in any way possible but really all I was doing was giving my inner thighs fabric burn.
The snicker slid across me like cold slime before I felt the cool slick of what had to be olive oil being poured in excess along my ass. I could only hope it wasn't Char's garlic oil or any of her other concoctions because that would make this so, so much worse. Cold fingers began spreading it around, causing me to wriggle and clench. There was nowhere to go though. When he pounced on me this last time it put me right into the corner. I could feel my hair piled up against it, pressing against the sides of my face.
Clicking of a belt then, the slip of a button and then the teeth of a zipper slowly opening. Shuffling of silk and the squelch of the olive oil gave me exactly enough information to know what was going on. When my freak out came back with a vengeance he planted his knee against the back of my thigh.
"I will have no problem snapping this if you do not be still," he threatened with a hiss.
I didn't care, anything to delay his plans. Then he threw down his Ace card.
"Or, I or one of my friends could venture up to Forks and check in on dear old Dad if you'd rather we go that route," he tossed out there lowly, casually.
That did it. I froze and stopped fighting him. I wouldn't willingly do anything to set the demise of my father into motion. He let out that slimy, low chuckle again.
"I thought that might…put your priorities in order," he crooned, dragging a clawed hand down my hip and across my undamaged butt cheek.
He must have purposefully filed his nails because there were small welts beginning to show from his violent caresses.
I wouldn't wiggle away but I wouldn't exactly cooperate fully. I clamped down with all the force I had, my lower body rigid with contracted muscles. He must have seen this as a challenge rather than a deterrent.
My heart began to pound louder, slamming in my chest and filling up any capacity I had to hear as he positioned himself. I felt him, hard and throbbing, stroking along my lubricated skin first before the pressure started. It was futile but I screamed and screamed until I was sure something was going to pop, whether they were blood vessels in my eyes or one in my brain. I could feel the lubrication and his force starting to work against me. My abused muscles were all but ready to give up the fight. Then he was gone.
My dress was ripped back down and my bindings were sliced free. I felt the cold steel against my lip and nearly freaked again but a quick pop later and out came the gag.
The blindfold was off half a breath later and I found myself upright and looking into a set of stormy blue eyes so angry that I was sure that an avenging angel had come to christen the Earth with Armageddon and made a pit stop just to rescue me. Of their own accord, my eyes made their way towards the door, where I could see Peter holding a maroon faced James in a lock he couldn't escape from and couldn't fight back. His pants were as they should have been except there was now a big oily stain across the front where the zipper was.
The angel moved to block my line of sight and refocused me on him. I took a moment to take inventory of myself. I could feel new wounds on my lower half consisting of fabric burns, bruises, scratches. As if by the flip of a switch because I recognized my new lower wounds, my face reminded me that it had not had a good day either. The faster the adrenaline burned off, the more pain I felt. I could only imagine that I looked like I'd gone a few rounds with Rocky. At some point I had moved to the position I was in now, with my legs pressed together and to the side and my butt pressed firmly against the floor. My brain was obviously deleting details because I couldn't recall how that had happened.
I looked up to get a better look at my savior, then came to realize that it was Jasper, and he was angrier than I'd ever dreamed. I had thought he was mad when he destroyed the office, but that apparently ranked as just upset in comparison. He brought his hand up, as if he was going to trace along my bruising and scrapes with trembling fingers but came just shy of my skin. His breathing was ragged, hitched and his face was turning red. I watched, fascinated in my state of horror as a blood vessel popped in his left eye.
He moved forward in his low crouch over me to slide his arms around me and pull me against his chest. My fingers bunched and clung to the front of the fine red dress shirt as my ear pressed against his chest to listen to his pounding heart. He was inhaling the scent of my hair as he stroked my back and my hair. He was fighting, hard, to master his breathing as he fought his rage. I had, at some point, reciprocated and pressed up against him hard enough that I was trembling right along with him.
"I will give you vengeance," he murmured against my hair where he'd laid his head atop of mine.
He had all but cocooned me in his crouch and while I should not feel anywhere close to safe, I did. He had saved me. He had cut me free and was nuclear level furious over the whole thing.
Someone came up beside us holding something blue. It was then he lay a kiss to my crown, released me, and stood.
"Charlotte, help her change and stay with her. I'm going to take care of things," he said, casting another look over me.
White knuckled and jaw clenched he marched out of the pantry, shutting the door behind him. When I saw Charlotte had a pair of Dickies front zip-up coveralls I shot up and began trying to rip the dress over my head.
Olive oil was apparently on everything now because I couldn't keep a good grip and was in constant peril of slipping. Two clean hands assisted and seconds later it was in the floor. She had me step onto it for stability. In my newest round of freaking out I wanted to be in three pairs of coveralls along with a turtleneck or two and a scuba suit. She worked with me to get them on as fast as possible, kneeling at my feet and having me rest my hands on her shoulders while I stepped in. She brought them up me in a flash and then my arms were in. The zip front was closed before I could blink and I had the relief of being fully clothed again.
"Where did he go?" I managed to get out.
It had occurred to my brain that he was doing something that I may want to know about.
Something to avenge me.
I remembered, in a flash, the threat he issued James.
All the dots connected, slower than they should have as was the new trend as of late.
I darted to the door, flinging it open and hazarding a guess, started towards the back door.
I saw no shoes to jump into and dropped the idea of finding any. Then I was grabbed.
I don't remember turning but I found myself on top of Charlotte grappling with her on the ground.
"You have to stay inside Bella!" she was saying, over and over, trying to get through to me.
No, I didn't. I wanted James shipped off to the darkest corners of the planet for trying what he had but I didn't want Jasper to kill him because of me. I didn't want more blood on Jasper's hands. I gave that thought no analysis when it darted through my mind but just recognized that I'd had it.
In an unusually coordinated move I disengaged Charlotte and leapt off of her, resuming my blind course for the back door.
In my tunnel vision the doors may as well have been opened by magic. A faint squawk of alarm behind me barely registered. Then I was off the porch and halfway across the yard before registering the hot, hot earth beneath me and a few rocks that found my soles. None of it mattered.
The only thing that mattered was the man in the matching gray glencheck pants and waistcoat with the fine, deep red dress shirt with the sleeves that had been rolled to his elbows, and black Italian leather cowboy boots on his feet. In his outstretched hand was a large caliber, old west style revolver with a mother of pearl handle and beautiful decorative etching. I had seen this before as it rested in a holster on his side and when he had cleaned it at his desk.
In front of him was James, on his knees with a twin standing at each flank, most likely still where they'd been when they'd thrown him down. Peter was behind Jasper and the first of the group to realize I was there. Before he could move, however, Jasper caught my movement out of the side of his eye and turned his head just a fraction, keeping one eye on James. I was able to skid just enough to slow most of my momentum before crashing into him and throwing my arms around his torso. He may as well have been a statue for all that he moved.
"Please, don't kill him because of me," I rushed out, low and breathless from my sprint.
He brought his free arm up and pulled me against him, toying with the ends of my hair.
"Stubborn, sweet girl," he sighed, almost silently into my hair as I clung to him, "Do you not understand what he tried to do to you? And that he threatened your father?" he questioned, equally quiet.
"I know, I know. Couldn't you ship him off somewhere though, somewhere awful that he'll never come back from?" I pleaded with a trembling voice, taking his lead to keep the volume down.
"Perhaps, if it was just the action he took against you, I would allow you to sway me in this. Except, that punishment is far too light to match what we've learned in the last few moments," he informed me.
He shuffled me around, still pressed against him, my fists still bunched in his waistcoat and shirt at the small of his back. He was no longer facing James but had his side to him, arm still perfectly outstretched as before.
He turned my head to where I was looking at Peter instead and pressed my ear against his now normally beating heart.
"Don't look, sweet girl," he whispered before his hand covered my other ear. My eyes stretched wide in realization before slamming shut. I heard James running his mouth for a few seconds before the boom silenced him forever. I barely felt the recoil in Jasper's body.
A life had just been snuffed out feet from me.
I became aware of the dribbles of olive oil that I'd been doused with had reached my calves in streaks.
Jasper led me back towards the house, picking me up after stumbling on the second rock I'd stepped on, still not letting me look back to see what I knew he'd done.
It wasn't until then I'd realized that there were several people on and around the back porch. Watching an example being made. I must have nailed one of them with the door when I exploded out of it. He stopped a few feet away from them.
"You will all pack your things and be out of this house within the hour. You will go to your secondary assigned housing and wait for further instruction. Unless invited, you will receive orders via phone or secured, encrypted email. I don't think I have to further explain what happens to traitors in my outfit," He commanded.
One of them opened the storm door, the kitchen door still opened. Char was standing with her arms crossed and her back to us at the stove. There was a large bowl with something burning in it, the stove exhaust pulling the smoke and fumes outside.
Upstairs we went, back to the bedroom and into the bathroom.
"Do you want a shower or bath?" he asked, voice still low, like I'd shatter if he talked too loudly.
"Shower…" I said, numbness and shock starting to set in.
He set me down on the counter, going about the room, lighting candles with shaking hands. Gathering towels and getting the water temperature just below scalding, exactly where I would have put it. The towels and a stack of washcloths found a home on a chair outside the shower door. Then he came back to me.
His hands went to my face and neck, examining every iota of my flesh that wasn't covered by my coveralls. He'd had to pause more than once to control his breathing and calm his trembling as he examined me. It took him a minute to work up the nerve before he opened his mouth.
"Did he-" was as far as he got before I cut him off.
"No! No… He said that you must have already had me once today…" I didn't have to continue to draw out that James hadn't been interested in sloppy seconds, so he went for what he thought was untouched, for the day at least.
Jasper started shaking again or so I thought until he pulled me tight against him. It was then that it became clear that I was the one doing the shaking now. I sucked in a few deep breaths, pulling his scent deep inside me, ridding myself of the rank citrus. Jasper smelled like expensive whiskey, clean linens that had dried in the sunshine, a hint of cool vanilla and the barest traces of cedar.
When he sensed I was reaching hyperventilation with my repeated deep inhaling he began to coach me, "Woah, woah, breathe with me now. In through your nose, c'mon," and inhaled, probably to a count of four, "now out through the mouth, slowly," and repeated the time.
He didn't say anything else, just continued to breathe in that manner. In my state it didn't take much to get me to go along with him. I was still cleansing my olfactory with every breath, so I was fine.
Finally, he stepped back and lowered me down to my feet. Hooking two fingers under my chin he pulled my eyes up to meet his.
"Stay in the shower as long as you want. Sit in the tub, as long as you need. Anything you ask for, you will be given," he said lowly.
When he moved to leave I grabbed his arm before I could think.
The last time I was without him, I was almost violated in the worst way. I had no one else to guard me but him. He was my only real safety here; that was made obvious today.
I didn't blame Char in the slightest and I didn't blame Peter or the twins, because they would have stopped it. I both did and didn't blame Jasper because had he not brought me here, this would never have happened. Then again, if he had never brought me here, Charlie and I would probably be dead or worse. The contradictory emotions waged a circular war on my already taxed mental state.
"It's ok, Isabella, he'll never touch you again. I'll kill anyone else that I even suspect might," he tried placating me.
"No, you can't leave, you can't go, you have to stay with me," I begged.
I knew I sounded neurotic and probably looked fucking crazy but he got the idea.
"Isabella, I'm going to be in a chair, right outside this door. Charlotte will be up to help you in just a couple of minutes after she finishes up something downstairs. If anyone besides Peter or the brothers come through the door, I'll blow their heads off. Nobody will get past me, sweet girl," he promised, pressing a kiss to my hair.
In a sick way, I enjoyed the affection. It was as if, with his kiss, he was signing a contract with me, a guarantee. I believed it wholeheartedly. He had, after all, just blown someone's head off for daring to fuck with me again. He'd said outside that the punishment for the crime could have been altered by me if only it was the only infraction.
He slowly pulled away again, my hand sliding down his arm until we were palm to palm, then finger to finger, finally parting. Immediately it felt as if I were missing something and the feeling only increased if anything as he backed away and out of the room.
I felt like a paradox. Numbness had spread inside me as he had left, filling me like sand in an hourglass. My flesh though, felt every single thing. All the bruises on my body and face were reintroducing themselves, every welt felt more raised and sensitive against my ruined blood spattered clothing, and last but not least, the damn olive oil was smeared along my skin and clothes from hip to ankles.
All of a sudden I couldn't stand the feel of the clothes that I was wearing, coated in what it was along with the stench of my fear and sweat. It was easy to escape from with one hard tug of the zipper. It came down far enough before I lost my grip that I could wriggle out of it. Amazingly I stayed on my feet and I fought my way out of it. I wadded it up and launched it into a corner.
Autopilot took over and moved me under the spray, snagging a wash cloth on the way. A giant glop of shower gel later and I was scrubbing every inch of skin, over and over and over again. I used up that cloth and snatched another from outside, knocking some to the floor. More gel, more scrubbing. And again, and again. I couldn't get the feel of the oil off my skin. The putrid smell of my terror that had seeped from my pores clung inside my nose. I impatiently ejected the bottle of soap from where I'd sat after the first go around when I could get no more out of it. I grabbed the next bottle I saw without looking at what it was and ripped the top off.
The scent that invaded my nose froze me entirely. Citrus and mint. What the fuck was it doing in this bathroom?! The trembling returned, harder than ever and I flung it as hard as I could, hearing it bounce off the wall and then splattering to the floor. It took me a second to realize that the wounded animal sound had come from me.
I saw the only remaining bottle of body wash and I grappled with it as I tried to grab it with my slick hands, dropping it repeatedly and then almost falling when I finally ripped the cap open and took a deep inhale. I knew who this soap belonged to and as the scent washed over me, I could somehow breathe again. In, and then out. In, and then out.
"Bella?" Char asked tentatively. The bathroom was now full of steam and from my position I imagined it was harder to see me.
"Here, Char," a croak being the only thing I could manage.
I could see her, sort of, as she stripped down to her underwear and climbed in the shower, a full, new bottle of soap in her hands.
She made to sit behind me when I skitter sideways. I can't deal with the idea of someone behind me right now. The mere thought making the columns of my mind tremble.
Char seemed to totally get it though, apologizing until I put a hand on her leg. From there she scooted to where she had a leg on either side of me, my side still to her. She took a fresh cloth and added some of the green apple soap to it, slowly washing my back in the places I couldn't reach. She rubbed in languid, relaxing circles, over and over again. Slowly but surely, drawing me closer as I inhaled the bottle in my hands, in and out, over and over and over.
It didn't take much longer for me to collapse over onto her, wrapping my arms around her with my head right under hers. Her hands abandoned the cloth and made soothing circuits along my back and sides, issuing continuous streams of shushing noises. My shoulder trembled and heaved, agonized sounds fell from my mouth and the shower stream provided what looked like tears but to my frustration, no actual tears came forth.
We stayed there for what seemed like forever, past the pruning of our fingers, past the fog of steam until finally, I was give out both physically and emotionally.
I was still unable to cry and it felt like a cork was in place that I could not pop. A pop I needed to begin the path to dealing and healing.
Finally, I made the move to get up and Char beat me to it, helping me and cutting the water off. She guided me out and kept my back to the mirror despite the fact that it was completely fogged over. She helped me dry off and put my hair up in a turby twist. Then she went around to the other side of the vanity and brought back a pile of blue fabric. If that was another dress, I was going to go stark raving mad.
When she shook it out though, it was the last thing I'd anticipated. It was another clean pair of Dickies coveralls with a zip front and a pair of long basketball shorts. I'd thought the first pair had been a lucky find in the scramble to get me different clothes last time.
She handed the shorts over first and after I got them on and the drawstring tied, she helped me into the coveralls. She had to roll them to my ankles so that I wouldn't trip.
After zipping me up, she led me out. The moment the bathroom door opened, there he was. Standing there and guarding the door just as he promised, pistol back in hand.
She passed me to him with a squeeze to my forearm and headed out the bedroom door, all but naked in her underwear and towels.
Jasper said nothing but slipped an arm around my shoulders and led me to the room with the curtained door and to the couch. He sat me down and collected a glass bong and other necessary items before returning to me. A bucket of ice was already on the table along with a pitcher of water. In went some ice and water, then he loaded the bowl. He offered the bong to me, but I didn't think I could manage to keep it in my hands. It didn't take much for him to get the message, but he seemed to waffle over something before muttering a 'fuck it'.
He lit up and took a couple of hard hits before inhaling and holding the smoke. He sat the bong down and turned to me. I needed no encouragement and met him in the middle, his hand cupping my skull again and gifting me with the bounty in his lungs, his lips a millimeter away.
I inhaled all that I could and held it, exhaling out slowly after a few moments. It was better than I'd ever done but I was still numb internally. He was ready as soon as I was and I accepted the exchange once more before I felt the soothing effects spread throughout my body. My muscles relaxed, calm began to spread and I could finally breathe again.
My eyes drifted over to Jasper. His recent behavior was so fucking bizarre. He went from cold and harsh to far more human after I started cooperating. It was whiplash inducing, especially when pieces of the former behavior reappeared without notice. Like I'd walked into a bizarro opposite-day. Maybe that was part of him too, though. Being whatever he needed to be in the moment. Whatever was going on, I needed this newer version of him rather than the other one. This version I could deal with. The one that was watching me with concerned, sad eyes and not barking orders or throwing shit everywhere.
He moved his arm to the back of the couch and watched me patiently, without expectation.
The trembling returned and I fought with myself. It was his fault. But yet it wasn't. I hated him. Yet in ways I didn't. Not after learning the truth. I was a mess of conflicting emotions. After many minutes of the circular thoughts and battling my own mind I finally gave up and gave into what I needed. Wanted? Not so much, but that was moot. Need took absolute precedence and told Want to shut the fuck up.
Scuttling over I stuffed myself against him tightly and buried my face against him, slowly inhaling all that was Jasper. With it, my mind settled back out and I calmed again. His arm slid down to settle around me and pull me firmly against him, diffusing my trembles. This was fucked up. I was fucked up. More than that, I was ruined. I couldn't currently give a fuck though because what I was doing was the only thing that made me feel the slightest bit better.
Fuck it. I would deal with it later.
For now I would take solace in what gave me comfort.