Page 38 of Cut Deeper

Nothing.

I already knew where she’d be, and made a beeline for the basement.

“Oh, hey,” she said, popping a grape into her mouth.

She sat in my chair, cattle prod resting beside her foot, and tossed Eva a grape. It bounced off the cage and rolled to the side. Eva stuck her hand through the bars, straining to reach it.

Gareth lay on his side, staring into space.

“Is that all they’re having for dinner?” I asked dryly, as she launched another grape toward the cages.

“I gave them the protein shakes, like you said, and I figured she could swallow the grapes without using her jaw.”

That was considerate of her.

“And the cattle prod?”

“I just wanted to check if Gareth was alive.”

I walked over and bent to kiss her cheek. She turned and kissed me back, resting a hand on my jaw.

“Mm,” I hummed, deepening the kiss, tasting the sweetness of grapes in her mouth.

This is what coming home should feel like.

I slowed the kiss and pulled back to find her eyes mischievous.

“Let’s eat,” I said, taking her hand.

She nodded and lifted the tub of grapes from her lap. I pulled her up, and she crossed to squeeze the rest into Eva’s cage before patting her head. Her cheeks looked raw, but I’d check on them tomorrow—I had a cancellation and didn’t need to go in early.

I rested my hand on her hip as we went upstairs.

“Did you have a pleasant day?” I asked.

She turned to face me.

“Yes, I had an excellent day. You have such an organised bedroom. How long does it take you to colour coordinate your socks and underwear?”

“I could get ready in the dark if I wanted to.”

“Are we due for a power outage, or are you losing your sight?” she asked as we reached the top of the stairs.

Yes. It was good to be home.

?? ?? ??

Tonight was better than the last time Anne had been in my bed. It was difficult to let someone into my space, and I was testing myself more than her—checking whether I had the patience when her chaos encroached on my territory.

Instead of unwinding on Eva and Gareth, I sat waiting for Anne to come out of the bathroom, setting my book on the nightstand when the door opened.

She wore a see-through white outfit, the bodice scattered with bright flowers, like meadow wildflowers—like Anne herself. The material covered nothing; her nipples showed clearly, soft pink surrounded by all that vibrant colour.

I could see the barest slip of what passed for underwear beneath the skirt. My cock stirred against the weight of the covers.

Did I enjoy blood with my sex? Yes.

Did I want to cut Anne? No.