The Hate Vow: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 3

  I pull the door shut behind me and turn the lock on the handle. For the first time tonight, I feel like enough oxygen is reaching my lungs.

  I brush my teeth, getting rid of the salty aftertaste in my mouth.

  After I strip out of my nasty clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, I take a moment to inspect myself in the large vanity mirror. Even after six weeks, I haven’t gotten used to the sight of myself without bruises marking my body. For so long, those were a part of my everyday reflection. I twist around to see the little round scars on my otherwise smooth skin.

  Is that why Ryder stopped? He must have been appalled by my mutilated skin. Until now, it never dawned on me that Tommy’s placement was purposeful. He probably scarred me there, knowing guys would be disgusted with it. Just when I thought I was finally rid of him, he comes back to haunt me. The proof of years of his abuse will forever be visible on my body.

  Trying to forget that disturbing truth, I turn on the shower and step under the spray. Looking down between my legs, I see the evidence of Ryder taking my virginity being washed down the drain. A mixture of the now crusted on cum, with a hint of blood, is running down my thighs.

  I stand in the shower for a long time, just letting the hot water caress my skin while my mind replays everything that has happened in the last few hours. When I saw Ryder, and he dragged me into the backroom, I expected him to do horrible things. I thought he would beat, torture, and rape me. Maybe even kill me. He always had a horrible temper, and he is obviously on the wrong side of the law now.

  Surprisingly, he didn’t hurt me, not really. It would be a big fat lie to say that I didn’t enjoy the sex. It was weird at first, especially since it was Ryder, but once I let go, it was nothing like I expected.

  I didn’t enjoy giving him the first blow job; it was too much, too quick. Although, apparently, my body was fond of it. Just thinking about it makes my inner muscles clench. The second blow job, however, I enjoyed body and soul. He gave me control, which I’m not used to at all. He said that he was going to leave me alone for the rest of the night, like it was a favor. Truth is, I wanted to have sex again.

  Shaking my head at that ridiculous thought, I step out of the shower and grab the lone towel hanging up, it’s already damp. Not having another option, I dry off with the same towel Ryder dried himself. Oddly, that fact makes me realize how intimate this whole thing is. I’m in his house, naked, using his shower, drying myself with his used towel.

  Somehow, this feels more intimate than the sex itself. The sex was very much cold and distant. No kisses or cuddling after, just sex. Being in his house and sharing his things is a whole different story.

  I pull on some leggings and an oversized shirt from my backpack and stuff my dirty clothes back inside.

  There is no blanket or pillow on the couch, and the air-conditioning is making it chilly in here. I curl up on the couch in a tight ball. That’s when my stomach announces that I need food. I haven’t eaten since this morning, and the empty feeling and cramping in my stomach makes me painfully aware of that. Pushing all of those unwanted feelings aside, I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to sleep.

  I’ll freeze and starve to death before asking Ryder for anything.

  I’m woken by someone pulling a blanket off me. I instantly curl back into myself, trying to keep the quickly escaping warmth. I want the blanket back. Wait. Blanket? Where did the blanket come from?

  “Rise and shine, little owl.” I cringe at the sound of Ryder’s voice. Awareness hits me like a freight train, and my eyes fly open. They are dry, and my contacts are sticking to my eyeballs. I blink the uncomfortable feeling away.

  Ryder stands in front of the couch, and he is, in fact, holding a blanket. Standing tall, wearing gray sweatpants and a black shirt, he looks down on me with a smug grin plastered on his annoyingly handsome face. Before I can say a word, he throws something warm on my chest.

  I sit up and look at the wrapped breakfast sandwich. Food! I unwrap and greedily start eating. The warm, flavorful sandwich might be the best thing I have ever eaten.

  “You always sleep in till noon?”

  I’m not too surprised, I haven’t slept well in a long time. “I didn’t get much sleep at the women’s shelter,” I say in between large bites. That’s actually an understatement, I got almost no sleep at all. Having a roommate going through withdrawals made it impossible to sleep. Even before that, I rarely got a good night of sleep. Constantly being scared will do that to you.

  “I’m taking Mojo on a run. I got groceries. Put them away and then wait for me on the bed. Naked, of course.” The front door slams shut, and he is gone.

  I finish eating my sandwich while looking around Ryder’s house. It’s a simple one-bedroom that screams single guy lives here. The furnishings are sparse, and decorations are nonexistent. The whole house looks like it needs a good cleaning. Dishes are stacked in the sink, and empty cereal boxes are on the counter.

  Brown paper bags filled with groceries cover the kitchen table. I take one and carry it in the kitchen. First thing I remove is a vine of tomatoes. Ugh, I hate tomatoes. The second thing I grab is peanut butter, something I am highly allergic to. Then I pull out mayonnaise, aka pus in a jar. Next… avocados. Last time I ate one, I broke out in hives that landed me in the ER.

  Oh my god! That jerk!

  I dump out the rest of the bag. Doing the same with the other bags from the table, I confirm my revelation. That ass only bought things he knows I’m allergic to or don’t like. I’m not sure if I should be furious or simply impressed that he remembers all of this. I want to throw all of it out the window as a big fuck you. But since I’m good at doing what I’m told, I swallow my pride as always and put the groceries in the fridge and cabinet.

  When I’m done, I do the other thing he demanded and go into his room. Walking into Ryder’s bedroom awakens a plethora of feelings. I’m nervous about what he is going to do to me when he gets back. But I’m also excited that I will probably like some of it. I’m a little giddy he told me to come in here when I was never allowed in his room when we were kids. Also, I’m sad and feel guilty. Sad for what he lost five years ago and guilty because it was my fault.

  I take my clothes off and lie on his bed. I don’t care what he is going to do, I deserve this. Whatever he has planned, I will let him use my body how he wants, and I won’t fight him. It’s the least I can do.

  I wait, passing the time by letting his soft sheets run between my fingers. This bed is comfortable, I notice. The pillow is soft, and the comforter is plush. I don’t remember the last time I slept in something so nice. The beds at the women’s shelter are anything but—scratchy blankets, stiff pillows, and mattresses that feel like sheets over springs.

  The sound of the door opening echoes through the house, and Ryder steps into the bedroom moments later. “Good girl,” he patronizes. Taking off his sweat-stained shirt, he throws it into a hamper in the corner. “If you’d been half as easygoing five years ago, we might have actually got along.”

  No, we wouldn’t have, I think to myself. I was too jealous and selfish to even give him a chance.

  “What do you mean you are adopting someone else?” I ask, my mind reeling. My parents adopted me when I was four, and I have been their only child ever since. I didn’t even know they were looking to adopt more. Why did they hide it from me? Are they replacing me? Am I not enough?

  “Not adopting yet, just fostering for now,” my mom explains. “This boy really needs a home, and Marissa said he would be a great fit for us.”

  “A boy?”

  “Yes, his name is Ryder, and he is about the same age as you,” my dad tells me. He is smiling at me, but there is no way in hell I’m returning that smile. I’m too angry, too scared. Why are they doing this to me? I’m happy with the way everything is. I don’t want things to change.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I shake my head, “I don’t want someone else living with us.”

 
“Penny, it’s not your decision to make. Ryder will live with us, and you need to welcome him,” my father warns, his voice stern, a tone he hardly ever uses on me.

  “Well, I won’t. I hate him already!” And I did, I hated him before I ever met him. Ignoring my parents calling after me, I storm to my room, slam the door shut behind me, and flop onto my bed.

  They are my parents and mine alone.

  I will do whatever it takes to get rid of him…

  “Get dressed and out of my bed. This was just a test.” Ryder’s voice drags me out of my memory. His dismissive tone is a stark reminder of what I am to him and what my purpose is. He strips out of the rest of his clothes and disappears into the bathroom.

  Getting up, I put my clothes back on and walk back into the living room, taking a seat on the couch.

  When he reappears a few minutes later, fully dressed, I ask him the question that’s been burning in my mind. “How long do I need to stay?”

  “Well, let’s see. You owe five thousand. A prostitute around here charges fifty bucks an hour. Today and yesterday combined knocks a hundred off, but I also paid fifty for your pill, and I got you breakfast. You slept here, used my shower, and I got groceries. So, I guess we are back up to five grand.”

  Leaping off the couch, I almost fall flat on my face. “You can’t… You can’t do that. I didn’t ask you for any of it.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Talking back always gets me into more trouble. I brace myself for him to hit or kick me, but he just starts laughing.

  “I can do that, and I will. Now, if you want to take a shower, do it now.”

  Needing that time alone anyway, I nod and rush past him into the bathroom. Using a hot shower to clean up and try to gather my thoughts. Is he planning on keeping me here indefinitely? I didn’t freak out until now because I thought this was temporary. I thought he was going to make me pay and then send me on my way. This is a whole different story. I can’t take this for long.

  When I’m all clean, I throw on the clothes from yesterday and walk back into the living room. Ryder is lounging on the couch I slept on, playing on his phone. His dog is sprawled out on the floor next to him, not paying me any attention.

  Gathering all the courage I have, I sit down on the recliner next to him. “I have a proposal.”

  “Is that so?” He snickers.

  I hold my head high when I say, “I’m worth more than fifty dollars an hour.” I have a good laugh on the inside. I don’t think this is what the lady at the self-worth class last week was talking about.

  “Who says?”

  “I do. I want five hundred an hour,” I tell him, keeping my voice even and strong.

  “Five hundred? Do you think you have some kind of unicorn pussy?”

  “No, but I don’t think the other prostitutes gave you their virginity.” Before he can answer, I continue, “Also, instead of charging me to stay here and eat, I’m willing to do other things for you.” I purposely look around the room when I say, “Like cleaning, for example.”

  He considers me for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you five hundred for yesterday and two hundred an hour from now on.”

  Containing my joy, I ask, “What about the rest?”

  “If you want to be my little maid in exchange for staying here, then knock yourself out. I’ll enjoy having you as my personal slave. Maybe I’ll get you a collar with a leash,” he jokes.

  The thought of having anything around my neck dampens the triumph I feel about brokering this deal. I can survive this. God knows I’ve survived much worst.

  Proud of myself, I get up to clean the kitchen. Ryder rises with me in unison. “I’m going to be out for a few hours. Feel free to make yourself a tomato-avocado sandwich while I’m gone.”

  Funny.

  To my relief, he takes Mojo with him when he walks out the door.

  The next couple of hours, I busy myself cleaning the house, washing dishes, and starting some of Ryder’s laundry. When my growling stomach becomes too much to ignore, I go back to the kitchen to hunt for something I can actually eat. Not having a lot of options, I decide to fix some spaghetti and use the fresh tomatoes to make homemade pasta sauce.

  Just when the sauce is done simmering, and I’m about to drain the pasta, Ryder walks through the door. Stopping in the middle of the room, he looks around at his now clean house. His eyes wander around and end up on the kitchen table set with two plates and silverware. His expression is unreadable, and his silence scares me. Tommy used to be really silent right before he would erupt and turn into a bloodthirsty maniac. I always knew it was coming—like the calm before the storm.

  Ryder being so quiet and still triggers a deeply rooted fear in me. I was stupid to assume that it was okay to cook or that he would want to eat with me. “I’m sorry!” I blurt out, my chest already heaving from an oncoming panic attack.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells, giving me his full attention now.

  Oh god, he is pissed. I’m such an idiot. My lungs cease to work as the panic attack takes hold of me, like a hand around my throat. I stumble two steps back until the cool metal of the refrigerator touches my back. I close my eyes, making the world around me disappear, so I can go to the dark place inside of me, where I’m numb, where no pain can ever reach me.

  I try to suck in precious oxygen, but I can’t seem to get anything to my lungs. Shit, I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating. My lungs burn as panic takes full control over my body.

  Ice cold water splashes in my face, dragging me back to reality. I suck in a sharp breath and open my eyes. The skin on my face and chest feels like a thousand little needle pricks. I blink rapidly until the water clinging to my eyelashes lets me see again. Ryder is standing in front of me, holding an empty glass of water.

  “Wow, that guy really did a number on you,” he says before returning to the kitchen table and taking a seat in front of one of the plates. “Are you going to bring me some food or what?”

  Unable to move yet, I concentrate on the water droplets running down my face and dripping onto my shirt in a steady rhythm. I just stand there for a long time. Ryder says nothing else. He just sits patiently at the table.

  When I’m finally able to compose myself, I wipe my face down using a kitchen towel and take the baked mozzarella out of the oven.

  I finish draining the pasta and place it into the large bowl I prepared. Pouring the sauce on top of it completes my simple meal creation. I take the bowl and the mozzarella to the table and sit down next to Ryder, who is still looking at me patiently. I use the serving spoon to give him a large portion, filling my plate with a much smaller one before adding some mozzarella pieces to each plate.

  “You used to not like mozzarella or anything with tomatoes in it,” Ryder points out while I take a bite of the breaded cheese.

  “I got over my pickiness with food.” I shrug. I still don’t like either, but I’ll eat them now. Anything is better than starving.

  “Why didn’t you stay with your parents after you left him?”

  “That would be the first place he would have looked for me and…” I trail off, trying to keep my emotion in check while I talk. “Also, I haven’t talked to them in three years.”

  Glancing over at Ryder, I see his features register the surprise, but he asks no more questions. The truth is, I thought about it, about calling them, but I think the damage between us is too extensive. I’m nothing but a disappointment to them now.

  We finish our meal in silence, which is fine by me. This is actually nice. Sitting together at the table and eating dinner like this makes me feel like a normal person instead of a slave.

  Ryder finishes every bite of the generous portion I gave him before leaning back in his chair.

  “That was pretty good. I think I can get used to this.” He motions around the room with his hand. “Coming home to a clean house, food ready to eat, pussy available to fuck.” His eyes land on my still wet shirt. The fabric is clin
ging to my skin, revealing a lack of bra. Ryder’s eyes linger on my nipples, which are now standing at attention.

  He gets up so quickly his chair skids across the floor, making a squeaking noise. “Bedroom. Naked. Now.”

  4

  Ryder

  I let her walk in front of me on purpose. This way, I can enjoy the gentle sway of her hips and the way her ass rounds into two firm globes when she bends down to slide those leggings off her legs.

  Her shirt comes off next, leaving her standing bare in front of my bed. She looks at me shyly, obviously waiting for my instructions. My dick is so hard it hurts. “I want you on your back.”

  She climbs on the bed, giving me a magnificent view of her already glistening pussy before lying down just as I instructed. She stays still but watches me like a hawk while I take my own clothes off and get on the bed to climb on top of her.

  Hovering inches above her body, I lower my head, taking one of her nipples into my mouth and suck. I can feel the pink peak hardening with my touch as she slightly arches her back, pushing her tits closer in my face. It’s so subtle, I don’t think she even knows she is doing it. I tease her breast until she is squirming under me, unable to stay still, even though I know she is trying, then I give the other side equal attention.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hand come up as if she is about to grab my shoulder. It stays twitching in the air for a moment, as if she is trying to figure out if she is allowed to touch me. Then, she lets her arm fall next to us, clutching onto the sheets instead. I don’t know how I feel about her touching me. Especially if this is what she wants.

  I’m torn between wanting to torture her and wanting to fuck her senseless, but I want my girls to want me. I want to feel them come while I fuck them. I want to hear their moans and pleas.