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“I didn’t ask you to hold it. Now drink.”
She watched him warily as she took a sip. He was wound up tight. She could see the energy coiled inside him.
“Better?” he asked as she pulled back.
She nodded. She did feel better. Her head was clearer and she was calmer.
“Tell me what that panic attack was about.”
It wasn’t a request or a question. He sat on the coffee table facing her, and just waited patiently. The lines around his eyes tightened, so maybe not that patiently. She shifted around on the sofa. “I really need to get to the boys—”
“The boys are fine. Gwen and Thomas are with them. I called to check, and they’re taking a nap.”
Relief filled her. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Now that you know they’re fine, I want to know what’s going on with you.”
“Nothing’s going on with me. Well, other than eleven stitches in my hand.” She attempted to laugh. It was a pretty pathetic attempt.
His gaze narrowed, and he rubbed his forefinger against his chin. “All right, pet. Since you’re unwilling to be honest with me, let me lay a few facts out. You agreed to live by my rules, under my protection when you came to live here, yes?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Yes or no answers will suffice,” he told her. She froze at the chill in those words. Oh, shit. Her stomach shriveled and she felt like hunching over until she could somehow crawl into the couch and disappear. “You were given a chance to talk and you declined. Keeping things from me that are worrying you isn’t allowed. Putting yourself in harm is not allowed.”
“I didn’t deliberately cut myself,” she muttered.
“Do I need to get a gag?” he asked her calmly.
“W-what?”
“I enjoy gagging mouthy little subs. And you might find it helpful since you seem to be unable to control yourself.”
Her mouth dropped open. Control herself? She could control herself just fine, thank you very much. Her eyes widened as he drew a ball gag from his pocket. It had a black leather strap and a red, silicone ball. She’d done enough research into BDSM to know what one looked like even if she hadn’t seen one in real life. Jesus, it looked scary.
“Well? Ball gag or are you going to stick to yes/no answers?”
She pressed her lips together. “Yes/no answers.”
“Oh, well, that’s a disappointment.” He put the gag down on the coffee table rather than back in his pocket. Did he carry the damn thing around all the time?
“I thought I might need it, so I grabbed it when I got your iced tea. I may keep carrying it around. Never know when a little sub will get mouthy.”
Was he talking about her or in general? She pressed her lips together at the surge of jealousy she felt thinking about him gagging someone else. Not that she actually wanted to be gagged, of course.
Definitely not.
“So you agreed to the rules. Yet the second you hurt yourself instead of calling me as you should have, you decided to take care of things yourself, did you not?”
She wanted to protest, but then took a look at the gag. She sighed. “Yes.”
“Because you didn’t want my help?”
What?
She shook her head. “No.”
He raised both eyebrows. “That wasn’t the answer I expected. So you did want my help yet still didn’t ask me for it? Instead Renard had to physically carry you to me.”
