Ohhhh, strawberries.
I pick up my spoon, scooping up the chicken soup.
I moan when the spices and flavours hit my tongue. Fuck, this is freaking amazing. Not caring that it’s hot and probably burning my mouth, I raise another spoonful to my mouth.
“Mase, this is amazing!” I mumble around a piece of chicken.
He looks anywhere but at me, his tanned skin burning red.
I offer the spoon to Jace who looks curious enough to take the germ infected piece of cutlery. Not that he cared enough about getting sick when he kissed me until I nearly passed out.
Jace raises the spoon to his mouth, his eyes lighting up.
“Dude, this is fucking good!” Jace praises. “Please tell me there’s more!” He begs.
“If the others haven’t gotten it.” Jace is up and gone by the time Mason finishes his sentence.
Mase looks surprised but I don’t focus on that because I’m too busy shovelling my next spoonful into my mouth.
By the time I’m finished, I’m sleepy and full. Mase takes my bowl from me and I slide back under the sheets.
He leans back against the bedhead and smiles when he sees me looking up at him.
“Thanks, Mase,” I say sleepily.
He moves closer and I put my head in his lap. His fingers run through my hair, loosely held back. My eyes nearly roll back in pleasure when Mase’s nails lightly brush my scalp.
I sigh and close my eyes. Between Mase’s magical fingers and the medication starting to kick in, it doesn’t take long until I’m pulled into sleep.
. . .
As I make my way towards the house, a cold feeling of dread washes over me like a sticky substance. My eyes flick between the front and back of the house.
Parked out front are two motorbikes I’ve never seen before.
I swallow deeply and weigh up my options. It’s getting dark. If I’m not here when I should be, they’ll be hell to pay but I do not want to be here when Marcus has people over.
I slowly make my way round to the back door. I carefully ease it open, knowing if I open it too far it’ll creak, and I’ll be done.
I sigh thankfully when I get in without any problems.
Watching for the creaky floorboards, I carefully step my way to my room. Just as I’ve thought I’ve made it, my hand curled around the door handle, my father calls out.
“Aurora! Come out here, please,” Marcus says.
The tone has me recoiling. He sounds happy. Happy’s never good. Happy means drawing it out rather than angry when he gets straight to the point.
I quickly put my school bag in my room. I close my eyes for a brief second before I pull on my mask and continue down the hall.
A handsome man in his forties sits across from my father, a controlled smirk on his face as he twists a knife into the table.
I swallow nervously and he seems pleased by my reaction. I pull on the blankness and step into my father’s eyeline.
“Ah, Aurora.” He beckons me over.
I slowly walk over. Apparently it’s not fast enough because when I get there, Marcus backhands me with enough force to knock over a football player. Luckily I’m prepared for it and don’t end up sprawled along the hardwood.
I cringe as I force myself to swallow the blood in my mouth. Tears prick at my eyes but I shove down the pain and anger until I feel nothing.
