Once she had the bandages in her hand, I started forward again. This time without her support. I slowly wove my way through the men, more concerned with my pain than their intense attention. When I stood in the center, I carefully turned and let my gaze sweep them.
“Biting hurts,” I said, enunciating each word as if I spoke to toddlers. “Stop biting.” When I found Thomas and Gregory in the crowd, I stopped moving. “Kindness and consideration are not games.”
Thomas gave a barely perceivable nod. Satisfied, my gaze passed over the men surrounding me. Their expressions no longer held aggression or eagerness. Each held a mixture of guilt and concern.
“I need a week. Please, leave me alone. I just want to sleep.”
Most of the men around me had the grace to look away. I should have felt triumphant, but the pain in my neck robbed me of my victory.
I trudged to the door, and everyone parted to make way for me. It was odd to see the group so still and silent. Even the ones on four legs.
Mary moved ahead and opened the door for me, but Winifred remained behind. Inside, the table was set, and a rabbit was on the fire.
I ignored the food, went to the pump, and dug in the bag for the pills the nurse gave me. I shook out a painkiller, ignored the antibiotics, and reached for the pump handle.
“Let me do that for you,” Mary said.
She pumped a cup of water then followed me as I slowly made my way upstairs. I stood in the doorway and blinked at the room. The man was gone, but there was blood on my pillow. Quite a bit of it. Some even sprinkled the fitted sheet.
“Here,” Mary said, quickly grabbing the pillow from her bed and exchanging the two.
I willingly lay down, and Mary covered me with an extra blanket.
Maybe sleeping on bloody sheets was just one of those things I needed to get used to while living here.
* * * *
A gentle touch pulled me from sleep, and the soft glow of the lantern greeted me when I opened my eyes. Everything around me was silent and dark, except Winifred. She watched me from a chair beside the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like someone bit my neck,” I said softly. Actually, I felt thirsty but the idea of walking all the way downstairs for a drink made my mouth seem a little less parched.
“Weren’t you supposed to leave already?” I asked.
“Yes. I should really leave within the hour. I didn’t want to go without speaking to you first.”
“About what?”
“What happened. I promised you’d be safe here...” Regret and sorrow pulled her face into a slight frown.
She had promised, yet I didn’t blame her for what had happened. Promises are dangerous things. They were thin and frail and much too easy to break. My life had taught me that.
“Winifred, no one is ever really safe. I don’t hold you responsible for what happened.”
“You should. I spoke the command to everyone here, and as new ones came, I spoke it to them as well. He somehow slipped by me.” She sighed. “I wish I knew how.”
Thomas’ sudden appearance and the abrupt end of my attacker ensured she would never know. But at least, I knew that creature wouldn’t bother me again.
None of them would.
Chills danced along my skin as I recalled how I’d hardened my will and physically pushed him away with it. In my desperation, I’d tried to wield it as Winifred had done and succeeded, in a way. However, the implications of what I might be able to do now frightened me.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to sleep some more,” I said quietly.
She nodded. “Mary’s in here with you. Her father and a few other older, Mated men are here to help keep the order as well as report any newcomers to me. I will do everything I can to keep you safe, Charlene.” She tenderly touched the top of my head. “And I am so sorry for what has happened.”
“I know.”
“I’ll see you again in five days.”
I closed my eyes. Five days. If I could sleep through them all, I’d be fine. Yet, I knew it wouldn’t work that way. Even though I’d asked for rest, I had a feeling the men would still want to see me.
* * * *
For the next three days, I skulked about inside. Mary didn’t comment on my pensive quiet or complain when I drifted off without helping clean up the dishes. I wanted to help, but I knew if I stayed in the common room too long after eating one of the men would knock on the door for some reason or another.
So I slept, ate, and stared at my bedroom walls until I wanted to scream with boredom and maybe just a little resentment. My neck, though still sore, felt the tiniest bit better each day. The swelling went down, and the stitches started to itch, but I knew better than to scratch them. The scabs from the original bites were flaking away.
While I stared at my wall Wednesday morning, wishing for something to do, the door opened. A man with light hair and an inquisitive expression stood there.
Panic surged, robbing me of breath, but not thought. My will solidified, not a cane but rather a branch, thick and heavy and hard to wield. Regardless, I pulled it back ready to swing it forward. Sweat beaded my upper lip, and I began to tremble, not with fear but from the effort.
“Mary is worried about you,” he said, not moving into the room. “Her father and I have cleared the yard if you’d like to come out for some sun and a walk.”
I hesitated a moment then released my breath and my panicked defense.
“You cleared the yard?”
He nodded.
I stood and edged to the window while keeping an eye on the man. I wasn’t about to turn my back on him. His brow furrowed in concern as he watched me. I spared the yard a quick glance and found it empty like he said. How had he managed that? Satisfied he at least told the truth about the empty yard, I motioned for him to lead the way.
Mary sat at the table in the common room when we pushed through the door. She perked up at the sight of me. The man nodded to her, and she smiled at him in return.
“Given my recent bite,” I said, watching her, “maybe it’s better if you don’t send strange men to come get me.”
She cringed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that. This is Paul, my father’s brother.”
I glanced at the man again, noted little resemblance, and said a quick hello.
“So how did you manage to clear the yard?”
“We told them you weren’t going to step out until they gave you space,” Paul said.
Space wasn’t what I’d needed. But I would take it, anyway.
“How much time do I have?” I asked.
Mary shrugged and glanced at Paul. He scratched his jawline and thought for a moment. “I’d say an hour or two before they get too impatient and start trickling back in.”
Walk outside or take a bath? It was a hard choice. Fresh air and sunshine tempted me. Maybe I could have both if I hurried.
I walked to the pump and started filling the pot. Mary seemed to read my mind because she went to the fire and added wood. Once I had the pot hung over the flames, I went to the door and opened it.
A cool breeze swept through the room. Outside, birds sang. I stepped into the light, closed my eyes, and sighed. The clearing was empty but the woods beyond was not. Their wills tickled my senses. The men waited and probably watched. It didn’t dim my enjoyment of the moment. I soaked up the sun, tilting my head only slightly, just enough to show my stitches. After a few moments, I walked back inside, determined to make use of my time.
Two hours saw Mary and I both bathed in tepid water and our dirty clothes washed. As we stood outside, hanging our clothes on the line someone had setup for us, I sensed the restless wills of those near. I excused myself, and Mary was quick to follow me.
I’d barely made it to the other end of the common room when someone knocked on the door. Before I could take another step, the door swung open and Thomas strode in.