Page 32 of Wildling

He keeps one hand anchored on my back, and he slaps my ass again. “Tell me you’re sorry again, baby.”

“I’m sorry.”

Whack.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

Whack. Whack.

The final blow sends me over the edge. I curl into a ball on the filthy ground, unable to endure any more pain.

He leans down and gathers me in his arms, saying nothing. He hasn’t broken a sweat, but his heartbeat betrays him. We approach the cabin, and he carries me through the front door right by the old blind man.

“Is that you, Natalie?” he calls over his shoulder as we pass by.

I stare up at the Archer, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he stares down, arching his dark eyebrows. “Play along,” he says in a low growl.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I call back, my voice nearly breaking.

“When you’re done, come play chess with me.”

I bite my bottom lip and control my trembling breath. The Archer looks slightly amused.

“Tell him to go to bed,” the Archer demands.

“It’s time for bed, okay?” I call out the man.

“Okay, dear. That’s a good idea. Maybe we can play tomorrow.”

The Archer keeps walking into my bedroom and closes the door gently, placing me on the bed. I’m crying, tears flowing out of my eyes, but it doesn’t seem like enough.

He steps out of the room, and all I can hear are muffled voices. This situation just got even more fucked up. After a few minutes, the Archer re-enters and curls up around me. My trembling body contorts to his as I welcome his warmth. Almost like I’m used to it now.

I’m facing the window, with my back to him, and he draws the covers over us. He’s quiet for a few minutes, then his lips brush the back of my hair, and his hands caress the spot on my ass he just bruised. Finally, he says, “Natalie was the most important person in my life. She was all I had after my parents died, and you took her from me. That’s my grandfather Frank out there. He took us in, and I lived with him for my entire life before I went away. He taught me everything I know.”

I turn to face him now, staring deep into those golden eyes. “Archer…” I murmur.

He presses his fingers to my lips. “Shhhh. That’s not who I am in this house.”

I blink a few times. “What am I supposed to call you then?”

He looks away for a moment. “When I’m at home, I go by Nick.”

Nick…such a normal name.

“Why does Frank think I’m Natalie?”

He cups my face, and his thumb rolls over the bruise on my eye, pressing on it as if reminding me of my reality. “He gets confused. His mind doesn’t remember things the way he used to. He doesn’t grasp the reality that she’s dead. He doesn’t grasp reality at all.”

The Archer’s hands find the hem of my sweatshirt.

Nick…his name is Nick. Remember that, Layla.

He slowly lifts his hand up my stomach and cups my breast. Everything about him is so confusing, it makes my stomach explode. “Nick,” I whisper, and his name rolls off my tongue like it belongs there. Like I’ve said it before.

“Tell me this is okay. Tell me you want this, that you want to be here?”

He doesn’t sound like the monster that took me…This is the boy behind the scars. He’s hiding so much. He’s hiding his entire existence.