Reluctantly, I hop up on the desk, following the doctor’s instructions as he numbs the area and inserts the implant. The anesthetic shot hurts more than the actual small, flexible rod being injected, but I can already tell it’s going to be a decently sized bruise by tomorrow.
Dr. Beckett feels around, making sure it’s in place correctly before stepping back and cleaning up. “As a precaution, ensure to use condoms for the next seven days or refrain from sex completely. Keep in mind, while this will prevent pregnancy, it won’t protect against sexually transmitted diseases.”
Nodding in all of the right places, I wait for him to be done so I can get the hell out of here. Julian dismisses the doctor, waiting until he’s gone before offering me a hand to jump down in a display of false chivalry.
I’d much rather smack that self-satisfied smirk off of his face, but refusing any kindness that he decides to show would only result in more issues and animosity. He has no need to even bestow the slightest bit of consideration on me, so I remind myself that I should be grateful despite the miserable churning in my stomach.
When you have nothing, even poison starts to look tempting.
“Maverick can take point on beginning your training this afternoon. I recommend you finish any chores this morning so you don’t fall behind.” Julian’s voice carries a sense of finality and dismissal that I’m relieved to hear.
“Of course. Thank you sir,” I mutter, keeping my eyes downcast submissively.
His fingers catch beneath my chin, tilting my head to look him in the eyes. “Don’t make me regret my decisions, Elysium. I’m a benevolent man, but don’t mistake my generosity for weakness. Even if it means losing out on the return on my investment, I’ll happily do so if I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
Icy eyes pin me in place, chilling me to the bone. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that he means it either.
“I won’t disappoint you, sir.”
He pats my cheek before stepping away, heading back to his chair. “Of course you won’t, my dear. If anything, I expect more from you than the others. They might be blinded by a pretty face, but not you.” He waggles a finger in my direction, like we’re sharing some inside joke. “You see things clearly, and I respect that. Sleep with who you wish; enjoy your time here. Go above and beyond in the work that I assign you, and we’ll have a beautiful partnership. But if I find you’re attempting to turn my men against me?”
A feral smile curves his lips, more sinister than all of his threats thus far. “I will take immense satisfaction in reminding you all why I took the name of King.”
After starting the laundry, I head towards Maverick’s room. By the time my knuckles rap against the wooden door, I’m feeling even worse than when I was in Julian’s office. The walls that were just beginning to feel like a safe haven now seem to be closing in around me, and my muscles ache from the constant flood of adrenaline that has no outlet.
“What?” Mav growls, ripping open his door with a scowl. His expression morphs when he realizes it’s only me, appearing less aggressive. “Grave being a little bitch and hitting you up to score him some more pills?”
My gaze stays locked on his chest rather than face him directly. “Julian wants you to start my training, if you’re free. But Everett could probably use one or two for his shoulder.” My voice comes out dull and robotic. I swallow, trying to shake myself out of my funk, but finding it difficult.
He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t say a word. He simply waits in silence until I look up with far more patience than anyone I’ve been around. Maverick keeps to himself, working or staying in his room, and the only time I really see him is at dinner. He’s never been rude or cruel, just distant.
Everett claims he’s always been that way, due to his multitude of scars and wanting to stick to the shadows, but I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault. I invaded his home and took his one sanctuary in the world away from him, forcing him to withdraw even further. That he even answered the door yesterday after Jake sent me to him for pain killers for Grave is a surprise.
And now I get to be the one to tell him I’m his new job. A fantastic Tuesday, really.
His light grey eyes lock on my face, his features tight. “Why?”
Shrugging, some of the fight leaves my stiff shoulders. It’s only then that I realize I’m not being assaulted by an onslaught of adrenaline, that my heart is back to beating at a steady rhythm.
“Wasn’t my place to ask.”
He wavers for a minute, no doubt contemplating telling me to fuck off and slamming the door in my face. Ultimately though, he sighs, turning back towards his room.
“Give me a minute,” he huffs, heading back inside. When he returns to the doorway, he’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a loose fitting, black T-shirt. “You’re not going to be able to move as freely in jeans. Go change.”
He heads off in the direction of the basement that I met him in on the first day, leaving me alone without any more demands of an explanation. Speed walking towards my room, I quickly switch to a pair of dark yoga pants and a tank top. Despite the chill in the air, whatever he has planned, I’ve no doubt I’m going to be sweating my ass off here shortly.
They don’t completely fit, but they’re still better than what I brought with me. Since I haven’t been allowed to leave since coming here, Grave stocked my closet a few days after my arrival, but he guessed at the sizes. Not that I could bring myself to complain though, since he honestly looked nervous when he showed me, like I was going to mock him. For as much shit as the guys here are always giving him, I expected to find out they chained him down at night so they wouldn’t need to sleep with one eye open, but he’s been nothing but lonely and screaming for attention, from what I can tell thus far.
Half jogging towards the basement, I try to make sure Maverick isn’t waiting for me long and choose to take his annoyance out during my ‘training’. Honestly, Julian likely chose him as an excuse to kick my ass in a perfectly justifiable way without doing it himself, to remind me of my place.
He’s the only one in the workout room downstairs, standing on the mats with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He gestures for me to hurry up, and I come to a halt in front of him, shifting between my feet awkwardly.
“So, what exactly am I training for?”
He doesn’t answer right away, raising his arm like he means to backhand me. I shut my eyes before the strike can come, muscles locking up as I brace for the incoming strike. When seconds stretch by without the expected explosion of pain, I blink a few times, frowning to find him standing there with his arms crossed again.
“That. We’re training you so that your first reaction is to dodge or block; not just take a hit. If you get your ass handed to you, you wind up either dead, in jail, or one of us has to haul you out of there on top of everything else we’re dealing with. Pulling our own weight is challenging enough sometimes, so we don’t need to pick up your slack too.” His voice hasn’t changed, just as hard as always, but I find a stupid part of myself cursing at how clearly disappointed in me he is.
