Ah, well. I’m sure I will have no shortage of excuses to punish my little kitten, and the forest is full of switches waiting to be picked.
Her howls of pain as the branch connects with her panty-covered bottom over and over again are still music to my ears. Even her constant swearing amuses me, though it isn’t something I will tolerate once I get her back to the house.
“Let me go, you sadistic sonofabitch! Ow!Motherfucker!”
Tightening my hold on her wrists, I lean more of my weight on them, ensuring the bark of the tree bites into her skin and earning myself a hiss of pain in response.
“The sooner you stop fighting me, the sooner your punishment ends, little kitten.”
“Fuck you.”
There’s a hitch to her voice that tells me she’s close to breaking, so I pick up the pace, switching her faster, harder than before. Her bottom and the tops of her thighs are covered in small red welts, but she hangs on far longer than I would have expected before she slumps forward with a sob.
“P-please. Please, stop.”
All of the vitriol has left her voice, leaving her sounding so young and sweet I can’t help but take pity on her. Dropping the switch to the ground, I scoop her up in my arms and head for the edge of the forest.
“Poor little kitten,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her sweat-soaked hair. “Go ahead and cry. Daddy’s got you.”
Her arms are wrapped around my neck, and her head rests on my shoulder as she sobs. “W-wanna g-go home.”
She means back to New York, but I don’t have the heart to tell her she’ll never see her hometown again, so I press another kiss to her head. “We’ll be home soon, little kitten.”
A car waits for us at the edge of the woods. Nicholas, my driver and one of my oldest friends, jumps from the front seat and races to the back door, his expression one of concern tinged with longing. “Is she injured?”
“No,” I assure him with a quiet chuckle. “Sitting won’t be very comfortable for her, I’m afraid, but she isn’t hurt.”
“Ah.” The worry clears from his eyes, replaced by amusement. “There’s a bottle of milk in the fridge. Cat sent it over fresh this morning.”
“Bless her.” Catharina Montgomery, my “sister” in this strange family we’ve built here on the island, has been producing milk for months. One day, she’ll have a Little one of her own to nurse, but for now she delights in providing for her nieces.
Taking care not to bump Natalie’s head, I slip into the backseat of the car, juggling her in my arms as I open the small fridge to retrieve the bottle. My Little one is still clinging to me, dried tear tracks on her flushed cheeks as she whimpers and presses her face more firmly against my shoulder.
“Would you like a treat, kitten?” I coax quietly. “Your Auntie Cat made it special for you this morning.”
Sniffling, she turns her head slightly, prying open her red-rimmed eyes and looking around. “Where are we?”
“In my car, on our way home.”
“Your home, you mean.” She winces as she shifts on my lap, no doubt feeling every one of the welts covering her bottom asshe moves. And when her gaze latches on mine again, her eyes are clear, as shrewd as ever. “You’re Evander Hawthorne.”
“And you are a very clever little kitten.” I keep my tone even, giving away no hint as to the barrage of questions suddenly running through my brain.
How does she know my name? Does she know who else lives on the island? Just how far down the rabbit hole has she fallen with all her research?
But then she reaches up, gentle fingers tracing the deep, ragged scar that runs down the side of my face. “I’ve heard of you,” she whispers, but it isn’t fear I hear in her voice.
It almost sounds like… awe.
My heart gives a painful lurch in my chest. “Have you, now?”
“Duh. Everyone in the city knows your name. And the story of how you got that scar. A knife fight over some silly territory dispute, if I remember correctly.”
She does. At least, she correctly remembers the story I want everyone to know. The truth would shed light on things I prefer to keep buried, so letting everyone think some punk got the drop on me is a small price to pay for keeping those secrets where they belong. In the deep, deep dark.
Lifting the bottle to her mouth, as much to distract her from my scar as anything else, I nudge her lips apart. “Open, kitten. You need to rehydrate after all that running.”
Her nose wrinkles, making her look even more like her nickname. “Is that a bottle?”
