Page 220 of Love Me in the Dark

His eyes narrowed and I could feel the disappointment roll off him in waves. Within a blink of an eye, he snatched my hair in his fist again and shoved me to the floor.

“When I say down, you get down.”

The carpeting was too thin to offer any sort of cushion when my knees hit. I fell forward, catching myself on my palms. His hand stayed buried in my hair.

“This is how a good puppy obeys.” He wiggled his booted foot beneath me, brushing against my pussy, and lifted my ass up in the air. “I’m going to take you to the kitchen so you can have your dinner and after that, you’ll use the washroom before I put you down for the night.”

“I can walk,” I said softly.

“Puppies don’t walk on two feet, Gabby.” He released my hair and moved back to his feet, tugging the leash forward as he stepped toward the door. In one yank, I stumbled forward on all fours.

And then—I crawled.

Crawled! Down a short hallway to the kitchen. The carpeting gave way to the hardwood that lined the rest of the small house. As we moved into the kitchen, the back door caught my eye.

“If you try it again, Gabby, I’ll belt your ass until you can’t sit.” It was a firm warning given with extreme calm. I wasn’t used to this tone. I understood screaming and yelling. I could get my head wrapped around a beer bottle whipped at the wall, but this calm and collected stuff made me uneasy.

He led me to the table where I could already smell food.

“Sit.” He pointed to a spot beside a chair. My heart sank. He wasn’t going to let me up from the floor. My face burned with humiliation as I did as he asked.

“Good girl.” He patted my head and took his seat. “It’s not fancy. Just some meatloaf and green beans.” He placed a smallpink bowl on the floor in front of me. Chunks of meatloaf mixed with the green beans were inside. He didn’t offer a fork.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered, hanging my head. The humiliation was too much, too hard to swallow. I’d rather not eat at all.

He turned in his chair and caught my chin in his hand, pulling it up. Tears stung my eyes before leaking out the side across my temple.

“You can do this. You don’t have a choice anyway,” he reminded me of that solid fact. If I refused, I’d go hungry at best, but at worst, he could bring out his belt. My ass still stung from my earlier punishment, and I had no desire to repeat it.

“Don’t make me,” I pleaded. Would he see my plea as a weakness to be disgusted by, or a small act of submission to soften him toward me?

He frowned. “Better you learn now so it won’t be so hard later.” He let go of my chin and ran the back of his hand over my cheek. It was a tender touch, gentle and warm. And short-lived. He yanked his hand away as though my skin burned him and turned back to his food.

“Eat.” He nudged the bowl toward me with his boot.

I picked up a chunk of the meatloaf with my hand and brought it to my mouth. At least he didn’t force me to dip my face into the bowl, but I had a feeling this was a baby step in that direction.

“You said someone else will be coming to get me. Who is it?” I asked, feeling somewhat brave as my belly filled with food. I had no idea when I had last eaten.

“I don’t know. I don’t get that information. Just a time and date.” He looked down at me. “You want something to drink?”

“In a glass?” I asked, still clawing at hope.

The left side of his lips kicked up. “Not a chance, pup.”

My insides curled inward at the moniker. Pup. Not even human.

“I’m fine, then.” I slid a green bean into my mouth. “You like this? Taking scared women who’ve been kidnapped and forced to be here and hurting them until they do what you say? This makes you happy?” Okay, maybe the food made me too brave.

“There’s a bad part of every job.” He shrugged as if we were talking about having to clean out the grease traps at the end of a twelve-hour shift.

A cell phone rang from the counter. He got up to answer it while leaning his hip against the countertop. His eyes landed on me, and a silent warning scraped out from the darkness to not make any trouble.

I could scream for help, on the off chance the person on the other side of the line wasn’t someone like him. But even if they could help me, by the time they got here, he’d probably have me gone.

“Go ahead and start the Doxycycline,” he said, tucking his right hand under his left arm. The casual stance gave him a less severe look. But the tenderness in my ass reminded me how severe he could actually be.

“No, no trouble at all. Call if he worsens.” He finished up the call and slid the phone back onto the counter.