You Are Ours

Chapter 8

"Don't you think that's their choice? How can they decide if they don't know your worries, your fears, and your concerns? It is a Master's job to take those into account. Otherwise, the things you're doing are not safe. You have to let them have this knowledge," she pointed out.

I hated when she was this rational, it made the argument boil down to the heart of it, a place I wasn't really ready to go just yet.

"What if they decided I'm not enough? What if it's too hard for them?" I whispered giving voice to my deepest fears.

"Then they are dumber than bricks and don't deserve you anyway," Maggie said fiercely.

I laughed through my tears just then because she sounded just like Mia.

"Just think on it. Use the time at the cabin to think on it and remember we love you," Maggie said.

She always reminds me of that before we hang up and it never fails to make me remember what it meant to be part of a real family.

"Love you too," I said and hung up.

I sat holding the phone for a while feeling all my energy draining out of me like water through a sieve. I decided for my safety and the safety of other drivers that the cabin could wait until tomorrow and headed to the bedroom intending to go straight to bed.

On the way, I walked right past my mirror and was struck by how pale I was. The two dark marks that sat on either side of my neck were visible against the stark contrast of my pale skin. I lifted a hand and touched them gently causing a bolt of desire hit me like a blow to the stomach.

I knew why they had left the marks on me. It was their way of reminding me of whom I belonged to, even after I had left them standing high and dry in the library. I should have been embarrassed, mortified even that they had left such an obvious sign on me. Instead, I felt the heat burning through me and a sense of satisfaction or even joy that they had wanted to mark me.

I laid my head on the mirror with a frustrated groan spilling from my lips. My temperature had risen as my mind played repeatedly the moment when the men had surrounded me, kissed me, gave me a mind-blowing orgasm, and marked me. The coolness of the mirror felt so good against my heated skin that I briefly entertained the idea of staying there resting against it longer. However, I felt the emotional roller coaster finally took its toll. I forced myself away from the mirror and went into my room where I flopped onto the bed without even bothering to undress and passed out immediately.

Standing next to my car, I took a deep long cleansing breath basking in the early morning air that surrounded me in my personal fortitude. Suddenly my problems did not seem so insurmountable, and I was finally able to breathe normally.

I took in my surrounding with glee, the white foamy waves that were crashing against a bright sandy shoreline to the dark shrub-filled evergreens that towered over everything and was beckoning me to explore its depths once again.

This place, this beautiful peaceful place was the epitome of nature's balance and it never failed to make me feel so small and insignificant yet mighty and powerful all at the same time.

The cabin was off to my right nestled back against the trees. There was a path that led the way off the stairs and then split off, one side leading into the forest and the other side lead down to the beach, and I knew both paths like the back of my hand. It didn't matter that I had not been here in almost four years, I still knew every bump and dip in both.

The cabin itself was a natural old wood cabin that and had been built by Mia's, God only knew how many greats, grandfather. Each generation had either been replacing or upgrading pieces of it until it was the cabin it is today. The outside had been made completely out of wood even the wrap-around porch and swinging bench was made of wood. The inside, on the other hand, was as modern as they came except for the wood stove, there was heating and electricity, but they were rarely used.

I rushed into the cabin and threw everything into the only bedroom and immediately headed for the beach.

The air that was rushing off the water quickly left my cheeks flushed and my lips with a salty taste on them, but I didn't mind. I felt my tilted and churning world slowly right itself as I began to delve into my whirling thoughts.

The first one that came to mind was my father's voice. It was still in the background calling me names and running me down. It was the loudest of them all and the most tiring trying to ignore.

The first time my father called me names was when I was three and I learned two lessons that day. The first, my father was a mean and cruel man to us all; the second, how to run and hide from him. A lesson I had cultivated into perfection by the time I was twelve.

I had accidentally spilled my milk all over the table and down into his lap since he was sitting right next to me. My brother Trev was five at the time and I remember looking to him and my mother for cues as to what I was supposed to do. When I saw the unmistakable fear in their eyes, I knew I was in deep trouble and began to cry.

"You stupid f*****g little brat," my father slurred angrily.

He had been drunk at the time, not that I knew the difference. But as always when he was drunk, he got meaner. He raised his hand to slap me when my mother stepped in and took the blow herself. That only made him angrier, and he proceeded to beat my mother as Trev took my hand and hid both of us in the upstairs closet. I remember burying my head in his shoulder and then he covered my ears so I wouldn't hear what was going on.

After our mother ran away when I was twelve, he started taking the abuse so my father would not go looking for me. I brought him soup one night after a particularly nasty incident and he was grateful. I began cooking for him as often as I could, it was probably the only reason we didn't starve to death.

The only good thing that happened around that time was my father took his drinking to the bar every night after work, this became our favorite time of the day. That would all change once my father got home. It would become hell on earth and my brother would meet him at the front door to take the brunt of it. I loved my brother dearly. He had become my hero, and my only regret was that I had never taken the time to thank him properly for protecting me as he had.

Until the night he told me he was leaving to join the army. For months after Trev left, I held nothing but animosity for him. But after a while, I let it go because I could not blame him for finding a way out. I began counting down the days until my eighteenth birthday so I could leave as well.

Then one night everything changed.