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She cringed at his tone, and scooted away. “I hurt my foot. It’s nothing, really. I’m fine. It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
“Let me see it,” he demanded.
Veronica cried harder as she showed him. It was silly to think he wouldn’t have noticed—even if she’d tried to walk normally and succeeded. It was too swollen.
He let out a low whistle when he saw the damage. “I’m going to get you changed and take you out to the truck.”
“Please don’t kill me,” she blurted out, the panic edging out her pain. “I’m yours. Please. It’ll heal. I’ll get better.” She’d started shaking and couldn’t get the tremors to stop.
“For God’s sake. Why would I kill you?”
“Well... I k-know you can’t take me to the hospital...”
“Like hell I can’t. Where else did you think I’d take you?”
Veronica wisely shut her mouth. If the thought hadn’t occurred to him how close her freedom and his imprisonment were, she wasn’t going to remind him of the risks.
“I told you I’d never kill anything that looks like her. Never hurt anything that looks like her. Did you not hear me when I said that? God dammit, do you think I’m a liar?” His voice rose as he spoke.
“N-no, Master. I’m sorry.”
He carried her upstairs and changed her out of the corset and into a sweater, then he carried her to the truck.
The drive was quiet, and a part of her wondered if he was telling the truth about the hospital. Surely he had to know this could end badly for him. Why would he put himself at risk?
As if he’d read her mind, he said, “You’re not going to tell them anything. I know what you need, Veronica. I may not have done it in a legal or moral way, but I gave you work to do and a safe place to live and food and clothes. You’re happy with me. You know you are. I took you away from that shitty life you had. And I know how much you want me, how much you crave what we do. Your body tells me, and sometimes your eyes do, too. Think about all that when they take you back. Think about the fact that I haven’t damaged you, or done anything you haven’t ultimately gotten off on. Think about the life you’d have to go back to if you turned me in. I know you aren’t going to do it. What reason besides silly pride would you have to throw your life away?”
There was no fear in his voice when he said it. He wasn’t trying to convince himself, he was already convinced. He truly believed she had a better life as his slave than she’d had in New York, where she’d only been a slave of a different type. In the city she’d been a slave of the impersonal debt hanging over her head and her job with the lack of people to reach out to for help. But despite his conviction, there were still things that didn’t match the words he spoke.
“If you believe that, why don’t I have shoes? It’s winter.”
He shrugged. “I like you that way. Vulnerable. Sexy. It’s just because I like it. I didn’t think you’d run. I haven’t thought that for a while.”
“But you haven’t taken me out, not since that day...”
“God dammit, Veronica, do you WANT me to kill you?”
“N-no, Master.”
“Then stop arguing against yourself and be grateful I’m taking you to a doctor instead of putting a bullet in your head. Fuck.”
His knuckles were white against the steering wheel as he drove. When they passed the road that led to the lake, his gaze went that way, as if for one fleeting moment he considered taking her back and drowning her. Veronica held her breath, silently praying he wouldn’t make that choice. Then he turned and went the other direction into town, and she released the air.
When they reached the hospital, Luke carried her to an empty corner and sat her down on a padded bench where she could keep her foot up. When he went to the front to sign in, the receptionist shoved a bunch of papers in his face attached to a clipboard.
Veronica sat quietly next to him while he filled out the paperwork. Under name, he wrote:Patricia Walker.
Once again she wondered at his sanity and how firm his grasp on reality was. How safe could she be with a man who didn’t really know who she was? Or couldn’t stop forgetting?
“Luke?” she whispered, afraid she’d get in trouble for calling him by his first name, but knowing realistically she was safe here with so many witnesses around.
He looked up. “Hmmm?”
She pointed at the name on the forms, unsure how to phrase her question in a safe way. Thankfully, she didn’t have to.
His voice was low when he spoke. “Part of the benefit to you in being kidnapped is that you no longer have to worry about your debt. You want to change that now with a paper trail?”
He was protecting her.
