Page 86 of Wallflower

“Karson?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Time to get up.”

“What time is it?”

“Early.”

It feels like Brad just left. The ache in my jaw lingers, persistent as the rasp in my voice. “Okay.” I push myself up, the blanket falling from my shoulders down to my waist.

“Fuck. Did he do this to you?” Karson’s sea glass eyes are full of worry as they rove over my skin.

“What? Who?” I cough, attempting to clear my throat. Karson’s hand raises, fingers running over the column of myneck. “Oh…no.” Brad was enraged when he visited last night, choking me into unconsciousness.

Twice.

“What do you mean ‘no’? He’s the only one allowed to see you other than me.”

“Umm…” I stumble over my words. Brad will undoubtedly unleash himself upon my sister if I open my fucking mouth. Silently, I shake my head.

“Rose, who else was here?”

Karson waits me out, hoping I’ll divulge my secret. But for Chelsea, I won’t. Even if Karson fancies her, I don’t know how he’d stand up against Brad, who claims to be a part of Maximus’s inner circle.

“Fuck, you’re irritating. Get dressed. Mr. Morgan is on his way up.” Karson tosses me clothes and turns his back, giving me privacy.

“He’s already here?” I squeak, pulling up the hem of my nightshirt. Pain jabs the base of my spine as I twist.

“Yes. Now on top of getting you cleaned up and dressed, we have to conceal these bruises.”

“Bruises?” I hiss through a sharp breath.

“Do you need help?”

I don’t want to need help, I’m not a child. But the pastel pink sundress in my hands begs not to be stained in fresh blood. I ignore my trepidation. “Yes please.” Warm liquid streams down my leg, and I know I’ve ripped the same fucking stitch again.

Slowly, Karson turns. His eyes scanning over my body. Not with hunger, but concern. I’m not healing as quick as either of us would like it seems. I know my body is battered, the plastic mirror across the room showed me enough yesterday.

He huffs, extending his palm. “Come. We’re going to have to take care of your wounds.”

“What about Ri— Mr. Morgan?”

Wrapping me tightly in the black sheet from the bed, Karson grumbles his reply, “He’ll just have to fucking wait, won’t he?” Taking my hand in his, Karson leads me from the room, my eager ears straining for Chelsea’s sharp tongue the whole way to the infirmary.

Silently, Reid guides me to Rose’s room. Not a single mention of his thinly veiled warning from the other night. “Due to your impromptu arrival, Rose will be along shortly.”

“Where is she?”

“Mr. Karson is tending to her wounds, and ensuring she is presentable for you.”

“That will not be necessary anymore.”

“Pardon?”

“On days like today, where I wish to wake her myself,Karson isn’t needed. He may continue to see to her needs when I’m absent, but when I’m on the island, she’s mine to do with as I see fit.” What’s so hard to understand about my directions? Stay thefuck away from Rose. I’m thoroughly annoyed I can’t rouse her from sleep by sliding my cock into that addictive fucking pussy. Or use her touch to chase away the remnants of the night still clinging like tar, threatening to suck me into its sticky pit there’s no escape from.

These idiots need to leave my fucking flower alone. No one had to know I was here except the fuckwit opening the gate.

“Ah, yes, sir. I’ll pass that on to Mr. Smythe.”