So for now, I was stuck with… tuna and milk.
I licked my lips, trying to get the taste off of my lips and tongue, and I looked sourly up at him.
He quirked a brow. “Is something wrong with my little kitty?” he asked, reaching down to scratch behind my ears.
I leaned into his touch, liking it more than I’d everthought I would. It had been awkward at first, but now it was a sign that I was doing something right. As long as I was doing things right, the threats became nearly nonexistent. I much preferred the side of him that wanted to give me scritches than the one who got mad at me for not being enthusiastic enough about chasing a feather around.
Of course, it wasn’t just the scratches and scritches.
It went beyond that, to those kisses that had gone from infrequent and quick to more often and much slower.
I knew what came next. He’d scratch behind my ears, then he’d crouch down and kiss me while the flavor of tuna still lingered on my lips.
I didn’t have to wait long. He settled in front of me, cupping my chin and lifting my face so he could meet my eyes without me looking away. Each time he did it, I felt like I was falling into twin pits of Hell, like I was tumbling into some abyss there was no way out of. His eyes were dark and relentless, just like him, and I could see the beast lurking just behind them.
It would never go away. It might subside, and it might lay dormant beneath his skin, but I knew it was always there. It was only a few wrong words away from surfacing, a half-hearted kiss, a protest or a denial.
He kissed me, and I kissed him back like I wanted it, the way he wanted it. It was easier now that I’d gotten used to the idea of kissing a man — and harder, because I was becoming desensitized. Every time that happened, every time I gave in to him, it was like my soul fractured just a little more and left me utterly at his mercy. He was breaking me, even if it was slower than when I’d been his pup.
Even if I’d started to like it sometimes.
Or maybe it was because I’d started to like it.
It wasn’t something I was comfortable admitting tomyself. Hell, it wasn’t something I admitted to myself often at all. But I couldn’t deny that the feeling of his lips on mine had started to become a sign that everything was okay. As long as he wanted to dole out kisses and affection, it was safe.
“You’re such a good kitten for me,” he whispered against my mouth.
Those words were good, too. As long as I was a good kitten, I didn’t have to sleep in the kennel. I didn’t have to worry about seeing the darkness manifest.
His tongue flicked against my lips, tasting me, tasting the tuna I’d tried to lick away. I didn’t know how he never seemed to tire of the facade, relentlessly pushing it on me until I had no choice but to surrender — or break that much more quickly.
It was only a matter of time until he got what he wanted.
Would there be anything left of me when he did?
Or would I end up really being his pet Toby?
Ryder didn’t exactly live here anymore.
“What’s the matter?” he asked me. He drew back, fingers lightly tracing my cheekbone before his hand fell away.
What wasn’t the matter?
“Nothing,” I said even though I knew he wouldn’t believe me.
The thing was, it was telling him what he wanted to hear, and sometimes I didn’t think the truth mattered as much if I did that.
He studied me for another long moment then leaned in to kiss my forehead. “It’ll all be okay, Toby,” he murmured, tweaking one of the cat ears as though I could feel it — but then, I sort of could.
I was painfully aware of what he was doing, and it was almost like they were an extension of me.
“Yeah,” I replied. There was no conviction in my voice, though.
He frowned at me. “Toby…”
“I know,” I said more forcefully than I’d meant to. Any lack of conviction before poured into those few words, and I shook my head.
“Isn’t it getting better?” he asked, that terrible pleading in his voice.
