Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Oh,” is all I can think to say.
“You could’ve left at any time, but you didn’t. Why?”
“To please my master.”
“He’s a shitty master.”
“He saved me. He provides for me and protects me.” I swallow anything else I would say. Augustine isn’t perfect, but he’s delivered on everything he promised. That’s all I can ask for. I owe him my loyalty, and my life.
“He loaned you out, beat you, fed from you. Then threw you in a cage.”
“The cage is my home.”
He sighs as if he understands but wishes he didn’t. “You going to be okay without it?”
“I’ll be good,” I promise in a whisper.
“That’s not what I meant. Does your fox need the cage to feel safe?”
“No.” I lick my lips, wanting to explain that I already feel safe with him. “The cage…it was more for my master’s benefit. My master doesn’t know how to handle my fox. Once, she bit him.”
“Your master, Augustine. A vampire.” His tone is dry.
“Right.”
“He should be able to fucking handle it. In any case, turnabout’s fair play.” He mumbles the last part.
“What?”
“I mean, he’s biting you.” The big guy strokes the scar on my neck. “Maybe your fox doesn’t like it. Maybe she thought to give him his own taste of fangs.”
I giggle, even though it’s not funny. My master was so angry when my fox acted out. He didn’t let me out of the cage for a week.
When I explain this, the big man’s face gets dark. Scary dark. My fox pokes up her head, fascinated. I’m smarter. I sit quietly.
“Maybe you need a new master.”
Yes, I want to agree, but I don’t. I already feel guilty betraying Augustine like this.
“You need to sleep.” He settles us back on the bed, my back to his front. He takes time to lift my hair away from my face and neck, so my skin rests directly on the pillowcase’s smooth surface. I hold my breath the whole time, waiting for him to pull away.
“Will you…” I stop my question in its tracks. I’m not supposed to ask for anything. I’m so relaxed around Grizz I’ve forgotten the rules.
But he growls, “Will I what?”
“Will you keep holding me?” I can barely hear myself, but he hears me just fine.
“Sure, Kit. No problem. Sleep now.” It’s not an order but I’m out.
Chapter 4
Grizz
I’m up a little after one p.m., closing the door to the bedroom softly and growling at the bright light. I could’ve stayed in bed and held Jordy for hours, but we’ve got a lot to do, starting with meeting Declan and friends at the Fight Club. Almost twelve hours, and I’m no closer to figuring out why vampires are risking the peace treaty to take shifters than before. And now I have a captive, a complication I didn’t foresee.
Augustine is gonna shit his pants when he notices she’s gone. He might not care about her too much, but vampires don’t like other people playing with their toys without their permission. Control thing.
Augustine can kiss my werebear ass. Still, no need for him to know if he doesn’t have to. I took her telling myself I’d return her as soon as I got the info I need. She’s my only lead, the only shifter I know who services a vampire.
The fact that my heart flips when I see her standing in the entrance to the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and wearing nothing but one of my flannels has nothing to do with the reason I’m keeping her. She’s part of the job, nothing more.
I can’t describe how much I like the sight of her in my shirt and the pair of socks I left out for her. My cock is so hard it’s about to split in two.
I turn back to the counter to hide it. No sense scaring her.
“Sit down,” I tell her as she hesitates, blinking in the bright light. I dish up the meat I’ve been cooking, confident that she’ll obey. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, sir,” she answers softly. I’ve heard submissives call their doms ‘sir’ countless times, but the word never made my cock stir like it does on Jordy’s lips. Fates, what’s that about?
I turn, ready to tell her to just call me Grizz but she looks so small, so heart-wrenchingly fragile sitting at my kitchen table with her legs dangling, I don’t have the heart to correct her. So what if she calls me sir. Maybe it makes her feel more comfortable. I can sacrifice my comfort to make her happy.
The fact that I hope she’ll say it again means nothing. For some reason my bear is into her. Doesn’t have to mean anything.
I get back to cooking, asking over my shoulder, “Did you have any more dreams?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her hand strokes her neck where her collar used to be, her gaze faraway.