“Good boy,” I told him again.
He glared harder.
I smiled again. Eventually he’d look at me differently. He’d probably always be afraid of me, especially by the time I was done with him. But I could get something out of him that was more than loathing.
Leaving the kennel, I closed the door behind me, locking it back into place. “Get some rest,” I said, grabbing the food bowl. “You’re going to need it.”
7
Ryder
This reminded me of one of those “choose your own adventure” books I’d had when I’d been a kid. Too bad this wasn’t an adventure I wanted to be on, and every option got crappier than the last.
The real problem was that once I’d given in the first time, it had gotten easier to give in the second time, then the third time… It sort of felt hopeless and inevitable, as soul-sucking as that realization was.
I didn’t even know how long I’d been gone. It was long enough for my stomach to be carrying on a conversation with the empty space, and I grimaced. He was going to make me do something for food, too. I just knew it. He wasn’t done making me miserable, not by a long shot.
Now that I was clean, I didn’t have a problem cupping my hands in the water from the bowl and drinking. It wouldn’t stave off the hunger, at least not for long, but it would be something.
I went back to the dog bed and the blanket, and the bump in the heat had made the air warmer… but it hadn’t done much to counter the chill of the concrete walls and floor. I scooted the little bed away from the wall again, tying the thin blanket he’d first given me around my waist and half-lying on the thicker one.
Curling up in the little bed, I closed my eyes. I didn’t expect to fall asleep, but when I did, I dreamt of men with scarred faces and too-kind smiles.
I woke with my stomach growling, and the scent of something delicious in the air didn’t help that any. If anything, it got louder, and I shifted to try to get it to stop making so much noise.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, coming closer with a dog bowl.
I tried not to eye it, but I was practically salivating as it got closer and I could pick out the scent of chicken and… vegetables? Maybe. “What are you gonna make me do for the food?” I asked sourly, though my voice was rough from sleeping and it only made me sound childish instead.
“Nothing.”
I didn’t believe that for a second.
“There’s one catch,” he amended.
That sounded more like it. He wasn’t just going to offer out food without there being a price. I’d learned that by now.
“What?” I sat up in the bed, keeping the blanket wrapped around me even though he’d seen more than just my naked body earlier.
He’d seen my asshole, and he’d seen…
I shuddered, not wanting to think about what else he’d seen.
“You can eat your dinner, but you can’t use your hands.”
He was standing right at the edge of the cell, and mystomach growled louder. I wanted that food, and I wanted it in a bad way, but the idea of not using my hands was not a pleasant one.
“Whatever,” I muttered.
Pushing the bowl through a space in the cell bars that seemed to be designed for it — for fuck’s sake, what hadn’t he thought through? — he watched me thoughtfully.
I picked up a piece of chicken with my fingers, and he cleared his throat.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“I will spray you down with the hose and leave you in there like a soaked mutt if you use your hands one more time,” he told me, his voice entirely too pleasant for what he was threatening.
What the fuck even?
