Page 12 of Daddy’s Hunted Bride

A low hiss escapes my lips as he swats me twice more with the brush. “Say ‘I understand, Daddy’.”

Asshole. “I understand, Daddy,” I manage to grind out between gritted teeth.

“Good girl. Daddy’s going to move his leg, and I want you to stand right in front of me.”

Rage pours through my veins as he slowly removes the pressure pinning me down over his thigh. I scramble to my feet, my eyes darting from side to side in desperate search of an escape.

But I’m surrounded by his six impossibly tall siblings, every one of whom looks ready to tackle me to the ground if I so much as breathe wrong. The little dolls—including Marjorie—are all watching me with wide, pleading eyes, as if it’s vitally important to them that I submit.

Until my dying day, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive them for that.

Closing my eyes, I try to pretend I’m anywhere but here as he tugs my leggings down over my hips, followed by my simple cotton panties, exposing me to his family. Tears slip down my cheeks as he pulls me back down over his thigh, once again trapping me in place between his legs.

“This is for lying about having a head injury, trying to escape again, and continuing to use all those naughty, grown-up words.” He heaves a dramatic sigh and taps the brush against my bare bottom. “You certainly know how to make a first impression, little fox.”

With that, he snaps the brush against my unprotected skin, and for a split second all that registers is the loud, echoing crack of wood meeting flesh.

But then the pain hits, a thousand bees stinging me all in the same spot, and I instinctively throw my hand back to protect my ass from this brutal assault. Holy fuck, it hurts so much worse without my jeans.

Thick fingers intertwine with mine as he anchors my hand to the small of my back, trapping me so effectively I can barely wriggle my hips as a second swat falls. “Oh, fuck! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be good! Please stop!”

“Stop?” His laughter echoes in my ears, loud and wicked. “Why would I stop when I’ve barely gotten started, little fox?”

It’s all the warning I have before the paddling takes off with a vengeance, the unforgiving wood of the brush cracking against my bare skin over and over again without so much as a breath between strokes. And as strong as I like to think I am, as determined to fight as I may be, I am no match for this constant onslaught of pain.

All at once, the fight seems to drain from me and I once more slump over his knee, though this time it isn’t for show. Now, I actually am sobbing, my entire body heaving with the force of my tears as the pain overwhelms me.

“Poor little fox,” he murmurs as he scoops me up into his arms, cradling me on his lap. My abused flesh presses against the stiff denim of his jeans and I cry harder as fresh pain shoots through my veins.

I don’t want his comfort. But I find myself curling into him anyway, soaking his shirt with my tears as he rocks me gently and whispers soothing words in my ear.

“It’s all right, little one. Cry out all those yucky feelings. Daddy’s right here.”

By the time my tears slow, I feel… empty. Completely drained, far too exhausted to fight him when he presses a kiss to my temple and helps me stand on my feet in front of him.

“If I leave you with your Auntie Gray and your cousins, are you going to behave yourself, little fox?”

Despite my exhaustion, hope once more takes flight in my chest. I can’t fight off all the Thorne siblings, but surely I can take his sister.

With that in mind, I nod, making sure to add a pitiful little sniffle that isn’t as unrealistic as I would like it to be. “I’ll behave.”

A grin spreads across Dane’s face. “Good girl. Your auntie is going to do your hair while Daddy changes into something more appropriate for a wedding. I’ll be back down in a bit to finish getting you ready.”

“Okay.”

Rising to his feet, Dane presses a kiss to my forehead, and something inside me shifts. Almost as if I find the gesture sweet, but I know that can’t be true. Nothing about this man or his family is sweet.

I watch as all six brothers stride from the room, several of them pausing to clap Dane on the back and congratulate him. When they’ve gone, I force myself to turn and face the little dolls who are all watching me with sympathetic expressions.

But it’s the smug, confident smile on Gray’s face that captures my attention and nearly knocks the air from my lungs again.

“All right, little girl. Let’s get you ready for a wedding.”

CHAPTER 6

VANESSA

Settling herself on the chair Dane just vacated, the woman they all call Auntie Gray points to the ground between her knees. “Sit.”