“Not yet, kitten,” he said. “Not until I say you can eat. You must be obedient, you understand?”
I trembled, my nerves shot through from not being able to take my medication. Another game, that’s all this was for him.
Well, I wasn’t going to play his game. Not anymore.
“Can I eat?” I asked flatly. He wasn’t going to hurt me without some trouble.
“No,” he said.
I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms. Breathe in, breathe out. You can stand up to him, Kat.
“Awful waste of steps to come all the way down here with food to not feed me. Were you just getting your exercise for the day?”
“Saucy girl.”
“How about you go back up to the kitchen and bring down some chocolate cake so I can not eat that, too? Your quads will thank you.”
He frowned and began to gather the food back up in his arms. My stomach growled, the ache shooting up through my body. I reached out and touched his arm, and he froze.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “It’s my meds. I don’t have my meds. I get nervous.”
Under my fingertips, his muscles were hard.
“Please,” I said, my stomach growling again, even louder.
“Ask me to feed you,” he said.
What? I blinked at him. What was he doing down here? The smell of the salami was seriously making my stomach churn, though, and I was definitely rethinking my earlier stance on his game. If all he wanted was to feed me… it was weird, sure, but it wasn’t what I thought he was going to ask for in exchange for food.
“I—will you feed me?” I asked.
“Yes,” he responded, and sat in front of me on the basement floor, cross-legged. “What do you want to eat first?”
“The—the salami?”
“With cheese as well?”
“Um, yes.”
I watched as his long fingers broke off a piece of cheese and then wrapped a piece of salami around it. He leaned forward and offered it to me. I opened my mouth and he slid the food inside.
Like a pet, I thought. I was an obedient little pet. That’s what he wanted. The taste of cheddar and meat made me even hungrier, though, and I swallowed fast, opening my mouth again for the next bite.
Slowly, bite by bite, he fed me the whole pack of salami. At the end he produced a bottle of water and held it to my lips. I drank, water spilling from my lips and dribbling down my cheeks, my neck. He paused and wiped off the trickle of moisture with the back of his fingers.
“Good, kitten?”
I nodded.
“Excellent. You’re learning. This is a good trade. You do one thing for me, I do one thing for you. Thank you for obeying so well. Is there anything you want, now?”
I looked up at him. That? That had been me doing him a favor? How weird.
“I won’t let you go,” he said quickly. “Don’t ask for that. You know I can’t do that.”
“I want you to answer a question for me,” I said, licking my lips. The traces of fatty meat and cheese lingered on my tongue.
“Yes?”
“What are you going to do with me?”
He paused, and I thought he might be angry, but when he spoke again, there was only confusion in his voice.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“You—you haven’t thought it out?”
“I never had this problem before, kitten. For now, I’m going to keep you here.” He didn’t look irritated with me. More amused, if anything. I didn’t understand it.
“But they’ll be looking for me.”
“Not here,” he said, chucking me under the chin. “We’re safe.”
Safe. That was one way to describe it. Anger bubbled through me. He hadn’t even thought of what he was going to do with me. For some reason, that indifference upset me more than if he had told me any of his terrible plans.
“So you don’t know.”
“Sorry, kitten,” he said, standing up to go.
“Wait,” I said. “That’s not a fair trade.”
He looked back at me.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I insisted. “Can I have something else?”
“What?”
He hadn’t agreed, but I blustered ahead anyway. If this was a game of fair trade, I was going to get my share of the bargain.
“Something to wear,” I said. “It’s cold down here in my underwear.”
He didn’t even pause for a second at my request. Immediately, he stripped his t-shirt off and threw it down at me. I saw his broad shoulders in silhouette, his bare chest gleaming in the dim light. Blood rushed to my cheeks and I looked down at his shirt quickly, grasping the soft fabric in my fingers.
“You won’t fit into my pants,” he said. “We’ll find you something else to wear later. For now, will that do?”
I nodded and pulled the shirt over my head. It smelled like him—a faint scent of deodorant and musk. The shirt was tight across my chest, but I was grateful to be covered up at all.
“Good trade, kitten,” he said, and left me sitting in his shirt on the basement floor.
Gav