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“It’s one of my favorites, actually.”

“Aw, now you’re jus’ sayin’ that.” But he put a big scoop on the plate in front of her.

Chyanne eagerly reached for the fork, but Aaron covered her hand with his and when she looked back at him, he shook his head.

“I’m going to feed you.”

Funny how quickly she could go from feeling like a changed woman to balking at a new unusual order. It felt like she was still being punished, and she didn’t like it. “That’s really not necessary. I’ve been using a fork since I was—”

“We decide what’s necessary here,” Chandler interrupted, his voice soft, but stern.

“And maybe that’s your problem,” Aaron added. “Maybe you’ve been so busy being ‘Miss Independent’ that you’ve never learned how to obey. But that’s okay—we’re willing to train you. In fact”—he reached for a piece of marinated chicken and moved it to her lips—“we insist on it. Now, open up.”

Chyanne bristled at not only the order, but at what he’d said. ShewasMiss Independent, and she liked it that way, damn it!

Chandler sat down and scooped his own portion onto his plate. Then he turned to her. “We all learn things in our early years that we need to un-learn. Especially if it means learning how to be taken care of.”

His words washed over her, warm and concerned.

I don’t want to sit on his fucking lap. I don’t want to be babied, domesticated, whatever he’s trying to do!But with the chicken so close to her, the smell was making her mouth water and her stomach rumble.

And things were happening in her heart, too. Confusing, hard, wonderful things. Was it possible… she’d been strong, stubborn, and only relied on herself for so long. But was it possible that deep down—even if it was deep, deep,deepdown—that she actuallywantedsomeone to take care of her?

They both waited patiently, watching her as she watched the cube of chicken drip with delicious-smelling goodness.

Then she opened her mouth.

“Good girl,” Aaron murmured.

It was delicious.

* * *

The next morning, her daddy and master insisted on taking her downstairs to eat breakfast with the rest of the guests.

“Time to pop the isolation bubble,” Chandler had commented.

“Not like you’ve been staying away from them anyway,” Aaron added.

“But—”

They had whirled on her, silencing her protest with nothing more than a look. A double look, though, that surely meant trouble if she continued.

“You just had the plug taken out,” Chandler reminded her. “Was that a mistake?”

She shook her head. He’d given her a bath this morning and then put her hair in pigtails, which whipped around her face. “No, Daddy.”

He smiled. “I didn’t think so.”

She didn’t say another word in protest, but it was hard not to feel worried. She’d more than likely see some of the other girls at breakfast. What would they say to her? Would they be angry at her? Or would they ignore her completely? The possibilities made her stomach churn.

So much so that her feet, seeming to have a mind of their own, stalled right in front of the door.

Please, don’t make me. Please. Don’t. Make. Me.But her lips stayed sealed as she gazed up at Aaron, silently pleading.

He opened the door and gave her what could only be described as a sympathetic smile.

Then she felt Chandler’s hands on her shoulders, and he was whispering, “Don’t worry. You’ve got this.” Then he took her hand and led her inside.