My mouth drops open and I step back as he deftly rolls the combo on the padlock and opens the door, just wide enough for himself to slip inside. Maybe I should have tried to run at him and get through the door—but really, it’d be like running at a brick wall. I imagine myself bouncing right off him like in some cartoon—either that or sustaining a concussion. Not to mention that no matter how truly screwed sideways this is all getting, he’s still got my dad’s life to hold over me.
And there’s what he just said. I’ve had the past few hours to think about how he knew what I was up to all day. The only thing I can think of is that he had cameras set up in the house. Watching me.
Like he can hear my thoughts, his next words echo and confirm them, “Watching your hands all over my cunt, taking what’s only mine to give.” He sets down the blankets and basket, advancing toward me.
“Maybe she’ll come to her senses, I thought. Realize just how much what she’s doing will displease her master. But then I realized—” One of his hands grips the short hair at the back of my skull. He yanks my head backward, baring my throat and forcing me to look him in the eyes, “—she doesn’t acknowledge me as Master yet. Which means she and possibly my baby inside her are not safe.”
His jaw tenses and his dark eyes burn with that dangerous glint he sometimes gets. “Do you know how it makes me feel when things I own aren’t safe?”
I swallow hard and his gaze focuses on my throat.
“It doesn’t make me happy, Pet. I need to keep my things safe and to do that, I need order. Discipline. A horse that’s not broken is a danger to itself and everyone around it.”
Every word coming out of his mouth is terrifying. He’s talking about me like I’m a possession. An animal he owns.
I want to lash out at him. Scream obscenities I know will infuriate him.
Another part of me is far too terrified by everything that’s happened over the past few days. Being dragged out here in the middle of nowhere to a place where I don’t know any of the rules. Then there’s the sex. Now being locked in a cage. Not to mention everything else about the confusing man holding me in such a vulnerable position.
With his hand still gripping my short hair, his head drops and then he’s kissing and biting his way up my exposed throat. I gasp at the sensation because I’m infuriated that he would dare take such liberties after locking me up like a dog.
And because for one exhilarated and confused second, I think he’s going to continue up my neck and finally kiss me on the mouth.
Instead he sucks long and hard on my throat right above my collarbone, sure to mark me in the place most visible no matter what I wear.
His lips finally let go with a loud pop.
He moves his mouth to my ear. “Submit,” he growls low. “Accept your place on your knees at my feet.”
My whole body goes tense at his words and I jerk back, my gaze shooting to his. In the lamplight, his eyes flash a brilliant blue-green.
He seems momentarily startled by the eye-contact. Or by the probably mutinous look on my features. And then his face lights up and I see the second of his rare grins.
“I knew I chose right with you. The finest mares have fire. They don’t break easy.” He pulls me to him so that my entire body is flush against his. I can clearly feel how hard he is. “But, honey,” he whispers, again right in my ear, “they always break for me.”
And then he lets me go.
“Blankets. Sunscreen for tomorrow. A gallon of water. I also brought you a little something extra to help you through.”
I can only stand there, a little stunned as he walks over to the basket. He pulls out a bottle of something. And what looks like a dog bowl.
A goddamned dog bowl.
Which he then proceeds to pour some kind of thick light-colored liquid into. It’s steaming. And it smells good even from several feet away. Like soup. Maybe broth?
But served in a fucking dog bowl?
He doesn’t bother looking back at me to see the outrage on my face.
He just exits the pen and locks it behind him, taking the lamp with him.
“Ugh!” I growl and run after him, slamming my hand against the chain-link. I don’t bother with the expletives this time.
I wait until he’s gone to go explore the hot liquid he left behind. It smells heavenly. I dip a finger in and lick it. Yep. It’s a thick, hearty broth. There’s nothing else that I can see—no noodles or chicken. But it’s something and my stomach cramps at the smell of it.
Goddamn him!
I squeeze my eyes shut. And then I lift the dog bowl to my mouth and drink down the broth until it’s gone.