I let her go and put some distance between us.
“I don’t know what to think,” she whispers. “I don’t know you at all.”
“You know me better than you think, Pet.” I shake my head and walk to the cabinet, pulling free some cotton swabs and disinfectant. She doesn’t pull away when I approach. Not that she can go far with her wrists and ankles tied. I clean the wound and patch up her neck with a small bandage. Then I unbuckle her restraints. Her expression is still sulky, still so fucking cute.
“Come, Pet. It’s late.”
“I have questions.”
I turn and stare at her from the door. “Don’t you always?”
She frowns, and I know there’s something on the tip of her tongue, but I also know she won’t say it with the hard look I’m giving her. “Your questions will wait until the morning. Come to bed, and don’t make me tell you again.”
“We need to talk about this, about us.”
“Right now, the only thing I want to do is see my belt tan your fucking hide for disobeying an order.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Are you my sub, or my fucking wife?”
Her mouth gapes open. I’ve taken her by surprise. “I’m your . . . I’m your sub, Sir.”
“Then fucking act like it and get your ass into my bed, now.”
She hurries across the room and slides into bed, yanking up the sheet and rolling on her side, facing the wall.
I let out an unhappy sigh. I have half a mind to go wake my brother and beat the shit out of him. That’s what we’ve always done, he and I. It’s what our father taught us.
Instead, I climb into bed and say in a low, gravelly whisper, “Tomorrow, we’ll continue your training. And, Pet, it will hurt.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Pet
In the morning, we’rewoken by the clamor of pots in the kitchen and more shouting, this time in Spanish.