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B.A.D. M.A.N.

“Bad man, huh? I get the feeling they’re all bad men up there, little owl.”

Eyes solemn now, she shook her head and tried to grip his throat in her small hand, mimicking choking him.

Ice cold fury finished the job for her, stealing his breath as he fully comprehended what she was trying to tell him. “Does your father know the guy he sold you to likes to murder his purchases? Of course, he does,” he said, answering his own question in the next breath. “He’s an elder, and I’m guessing elders know every-fucking-thing that goes on in that place. You know how many trades Jedidiah’s made?”

Tamsyn sighed sadly and held up her hand, all her fingers and her thumb widespread.

Yeah, the fucker wasn’t going to balk at selling his own damn daughter to a murderer when he was responsible for numerous deaths himself.

Personally, Merrick didn’t have much faith that Tabitha would make a dent in the community, if she even got that far, but her brother and sister-in-law seemed adamant that Grit’s submissive was actually some kind of legendary monster in the dark who huntedbad menfor sport.

He wouldn’t mind a one-on-one opportunity with some of the community bastards—Tamsyn’s father and the dick who thought he could trade shit for something precious were at the top of his list. He’d happily make a trade of his own—whatever it took in exchange for their miserable, pedophilic lives to end.

“It’s all gonna stop, little owl. My fierce, brave runaway is gonna bring those fuckers to their knees after decades of sacrificing and dehumanizing women. So proud of you, Tamsyn.” He nuzzled her cheek, her jaw, and felt the chill of her skin. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”

She squirmed and wiggled until she was no longer on his hip, but clinging to his front. Her good arm looped firmly around his neck, her cast hanging over his other shoulder as her fingers found purchase in his shirt again. Her legs hooked around his waist, anchoring her even though his hands automatically shifted to her ass for support.

Her eyes were wet when she rested her forehead against his, seeking simple comfort.

“Let’s get you inside, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

Tamsyn shook her head, her forehead rolling over his. She might not be consciously bothered by the cold, but her body was feeling the effects, shivering in an effort to keep warm.

“No arguments, little owl. Linnie, Fordham, and Violet worked hard so you could keep all your fingers and toes; they’re not gonna be happy with me if we have to do it all over again.” Turning to go back inside, he arched a brow when she nipped the tip of his nose. “Are you resorting to violent protest now?”

She did it again, sharper this time, and pointed in the direction of the residential cabins. Of course, she didn’t know that each time that tiny bite of pain irritated his skin, his cock jumped in response.

That was probably a good thing, given how quickly she was learning to read him.

“Don’t want to socialize, huh? Yeah, I’m not much in the mood for it myself now.” It wasn’t a lie; the anticipation of the evening had dwindled after Violet handed his balls to him, and he wanted to be in the right frame of mind when Tamsyn started to explore. “Did you say goodnight to Fordham and Violet?”

Her face mirrored Violet’s furious expression at the mention of the Mistress’s name before she shrugged.

“She was angry,” Merrick agreed, spinning around to the porch steps. “Unfortunately, that’s on me. The main thing is, she’s not mad with you.”

Tamsyn huffed, kissed his nose, then laid her head on his shoulder as he navigated the steps carefully and followed the gravel path back towards home. Her shivers grew stronger as the wind changed direction.

“I’ll make everything right, little owl,” he murmured, picking up his pace as the need to get her warm and safe eclipsed all else. “One way or another, I’ll make it right.”

Chapter Eight

Tamsyn

Valentine’s Day was magical.

She still didn’t have a clue what it was all about, who Valentine was or why he got his own day, but it was wonderful nonetheless.

Merrick let her sleep in until almost ten a.m., and when she finally woke, the fire in the bedroom was crackling softly, the air warm with a slight hint of smoke, and he treated her to breakfast in bed, spoiling her with her favorite—pancakes and syrup.

Her stuffed owl sat on the bedside table, perched beneath a glass vase playing host to the most beautiful roses she’d ever seen in her life—shades of red, pink, and white. The buds were barely unfurled, the petals still huddled together, just waiting for their moment to bloom.

After her late breakfast, he bundled her up into a brand new sheepskin jacket and took her for a walk to the photographer’s studio at the edge of the property. Not to have her picture taken—she wasn’t keen on that at all—but to show her the view of the valley that stretched out for miles.

It was lovely, it really was, but the best part was just being with him.

On their return to the club, they stopped for lunch at the restaurant, and Merrick introduced her to Allan. He was probably a nice man, but he reminded her too much of one of the handsy elders, and she just wasn’t ready to face that yet.