Taking a deep breath, I nodded and let him slip his hands from mine. Chills had goosebumps rising and I rubbed my palms up and down my arms while Eric quickly strode over to the cupboards again. Scared he’d bolt out of the door to escape me now he’d realized how clingy I could be, I didn’t take my eyes off him. Finding what he needed, he managed to hide them from me as he turned to face me. With a big cheeky grin, he held his hand with the item behind his back as he returned to me. Cocking my head to the side, I frowned. What was he up to?
“We only got in a few pairs of earmuffs and didn’t ask for any colors specifically. But they must have known you were coming this way because look what they sent.”
Moving his hand from behind him, my eyes widened when he revealed a pair of earmuffs that were utterly perfect. The outer hard shell parts were all metallic purple, while the rest was black.
“Thought you might approve. Between the purple sweater and shoelaces, I figured you liked the color.”
That answered how he knew what my favorite color was. Taking them from Eric, I put them over my ears and instantly had total silence. Not that it wasn’t already quiet in here.
Eric reached around me and picked up the blanket, folding it quickly and neatly before holding it against his chest with one arm, while he held his other hand out to me. Smiling, I slipped my palm against his, loving how I instantly felt more grounded at the contact as he led me from the room.
Chapter Eight
Eric
Six months before I was kidnapped, after a particularly brutal surgery, the anesthetist, Sam Carson, had invited me out for drinks. Sam had to be at least ten years older than me, and he came from old money. While I’d always been mindful to show him respect, and he’d always been friendly toward me in return, we’d never interacted outside of work.
We’d sat in the back of a little hole-in-the-wall bar near the hospital drinking expensive whiskey, talking about nothing of importance when he’d suddenly grown serious. Started asking increasingly personal questions that had my defenses rising. There had been no reason I could think of for him to need to know such intimate details about me. I’d been ready to walk out and never talk to the man again when he finally revealed why he’d been grilling me.
He explained how I’d reminded him of himself when he’d been younger, in the way I was all work and no play. Once he’d discovered I had no father to guide me, he’d gone into how as wonderful as working in medicine was, the constant pressure and high demands within the field couldn’t make up a doctor’s entire life. Balance was needed. He’d mentioned BDSM andwhen I hadn’t known what he was going on about, he went on to describe the lifestyle, the different types of relationships that happened with it. How there were clubs specifically designed for BDSM play. The whole concept had fascinated me, and I hadn’t hesitated to accept his invitation when he asked if I’d like to come visit his club.
On arrival at the club, before I’d been allowed to pass the reception area, I’d been handed a lengthy NDA that I had to sign if I wanted in. That had made me damn nervous and nearly had me fleeing, but Sam had stopped me leaving, telling me to just read it before I made any judgments. He explained how discretion and safety were top priorities within the kink world. Told me the NDA was one way the club kept its patrons safe from being exposed outside of the kink community.
Once I’d read over the document and took in what Sam had told me, I’d been happy to sign it. I’d even felt some relief that the club owners cared enough about their patrons to safeguard them in such a way. I certainly hadn’t wanted any rumors about what my sex life might include going around work.
Going through the door into the main club area had been like stepping through a portal into another world. Sam had given me a tour, explaining things at the various scenes we came across. I’d marveled at how ideal it had sounded, a place where I could be in control, be dominant in a relationship, while also being free to care for and pamper my partner. Growing up in the trailer park and then working in the E.R. had exposed me to the damage that could be caused by a careless partner or parent. While my need to be in control of any situation was a core part of my personality, I would never use it to hurt someone I cared for.
That hadn’t stopped the few girlfriends I’d attempted to date from running as soon as they’d noticed the “red flag” as they’d called it. Looking around that club, seeing the men growling commands at their women, orders they followed willingly andthat brought them pleasure, I’d realized I belonged here. It was within the kink community that I could find a partner who would allow me to be in control, because she’d know that everything I did was for her benefit. By the time I’d left that night, after I’d applied for membership, I’d headed home with excitement buzzing through my system that made it impossible to sleep.
Another safety measure the club enforced was to make sure all members were well educated before they could play. That suited me just fine, since even before I found out it was mandatory, I’d been intending to ask about classes anyway. I hadn’t wanted to risk hurting a woman because I didn’t know what I was doing. Even after I finished the initial sessions that we were required to complete, I’d continued to attend every class and course the club had offered. I soaked up the knowledge like a sponge.
When I’d attended one on the Daddy/Little dynamic and ageplay, which had included spending time as an assistant monitor in the Littles’ Playroom, something settled deep within me. The way the Littles, all adult men and women, were free to be themselves, without risk of judgment or being told to grow up if they wanted to do something like coloring or fingerpainting felt right. They could relax because they were under the caring supervision of their Daddy or Mommy. I’d craved the connection each couple or trio in that room had shared for myself. That night, I’d made a vow that I would become like those dominant men and women in that room, that I would find my own Little and would protect her from the world while simultaneously pampering the hell out of her.
Then Elita’s men had snatched me and a nurse, Lilly, from the parking lot at the hospital in the early hours of the morning. And any illusions I’d had about how strong and masculine I was, how capable I was of defending myself, or anyone for thatmatter, were shattered when I hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to save Lilly. When I’d tried to shield her in the rear of the van we’d been tossed in, they’d beaten me savagely. Then I’d been cuffed to a rail that ran along the roof while they’d dragged Lilly kicking and screaming from the vehicle.
I’d been able to hear her every scream and whimper, every time she begged and pleaded, but hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about any of it. No matter how hard I’d yanked my wrists against those damn metal cuffs, I hadn’t been able to break free from them. I’d refused to stop trying, refused to accept defeat. Even when Lilly had gone silent and I’d known even if I got free, there was nothing I could do for her, I didn’t quit. It was only when the men had returned and one of them had knocked me out that I stopped.
I’d been in that hell for ten days when Elita’s men had brought Veronica’s unconscious body to the compound and I’d been taken to treat her. Looking down on her fragile form, some of my previous resolve had returned. I was determined to find a way to save her, to get her free of our prison. I refused to fail her like I had Lilly. My soul couldn’t handle losing another innocent like that.
It hadn’t been easy, because the men who’d snatched her had drugged her, using way too much sedative for her small size. Since Elita had decided to keep me as her personal doctor, she’d set up a clinic of sorts for me to use to treat her men. Thankfully, among the supplies I’d had what I’d needed to save Veronica from the OD. When she’d regained consciousness, we’d hidden it from Elita but I’d known that I couldn’t keep the ruse up for long.
There was no way I could have even guessed what craziness was to follow Elita discovering Veronica was awake. Just as Elita was about to start torturing her newest toy, Veronica’s uncle stormed in to rescue her. Any initial relief I’d felt over us bothbeing freed from Elita’s abuse had been short-lived. Turned out instead of us being released from captivity, we were instead just transferred to a new location. We’d barely arrived at our new prison when Veronica’s man charged in, with his motorcycle club at his back, to truly rescue us.
When her uncle had realized he was going to lose possession of his niece, he’d turned his gun on her and I’d moved on instinct and jumped in front of her, shielding her from harm. Even with the damage to my chest that the bullet I’d taken had done, I wouldn’t change my actions that day. What I’d suffered under Elita’s orders had left me broken deep within. I may have still had breath in my lungs, but I hadn’t really been alive anymore. While anyone could see Veronica was not the same, with a fire blazing in her gaze, she’d refused to let her uncle and his depravity break her. Confident in her man’s love for her and that he would get her free, she held strong, surviving until he came.
I’d failed Lilly, but Veronica was a different story. I hadn’t been tied down and was free to intervene. The only weapon I had was my body, so that’s what I’d used to shield Veronica. And it had worked; she’d been untouched by the bullets that flew. And even when I’d learned how permanent and life-changing the injury I’d sustained was, I never regretted my choice. Never felt any sort of animosity toward the woman I’d chosen to sacrifice myself to save. It also wasn’t lost on me that if I hadn’t gone through all I had, I’d not be here at Rawhide Ranch now. Wouldn’t have focused on research and learning everything I could about neurodiverse conditions. Wouldn’t have known what Calla needed to thrive. For the first time since I’d woken in the hospital after my first round of surgery, I was grateful I’d survived.
The sound of the kettle boiling pulled me out of my past, and I shoved the memories back into the mental box where I kept them locked away. Focusing on my task, I added water to thehot cocoa mix I’d already put into a mug, stirring it until I was sure all the granules had dissolved, then I added a dash of cream before sprinkling a few mini marshmallows over the top, not too many because while the hot cocoa would hopefully help Calla fall to sleep, adding a huge sugar spike to it would not.
One of the research projects I’d been working on since arriving at Rawhide was how diet affected various neurodiverse conditions. I was building off the research that had already been done proving the link between having good gut health and good cognitive function. Particularly with autistics, keeping the gut microbiome in top condition has proven not only to decrease their sensory sensitivities and reactions to other triggers, but also makes meltdowns less severe and shortens the recovery time.
Part of this project had me working with Chef Connor to design a menu of options that were Paleo but also appealing enough that the Littles here at the Ranch would want to eat them. That said, I had no intention of even suggesting that anyone eat a hundred percent Paleo all the time. There would always be room for some treats. No one could, or should, eat only healthy foods all the time. Life was to be enjoyed and food was a big part of that for most folks.
I was optimistic that changing Calla’s diet over to a Paleo one would help her to be able to self-regulate better and hopefully prevent any more meltdowns on the scale of the one she’d had today. The fact that she’d now be living here at the Ranch where there were fewer triggers, and more accommodations in place to assist her than what she’d had living with her stepfather and mother would also be a huge help.
After giving the drink a final stir, I picked it up and walked over to sit beside Calla on the couch, holding the mug with the handle out toward her once I was settled.
“Here you go, sweet girl. One hot cocoa with the mandatory marshmallows.”
