“Yes.” He pulls the key ring that holds my freedom out of his pocket and unlocks the collar. Once off, I immediately rub my neck. That thing is restrictive as fuck. “This manicure has died and gone to hell.” He lifts my hands, pointing out my chipped pink polish.
I begrudgingly roll off the bed. My ass is so sore. I curse Kayne with each step I take—fucking bastard, asshole, shithead, douchebag. As Jett turns on the shower, I catch a glimpse of my battered behind in the mirror, and gasp. It’s beet red with flesh-colored hearts all over my butt cheeks. “Oh my God.”
Jett looks at me through the mirror and smirks. “Kayne spanked you with love.”
“I don’t think he’s capable of love,” I bitterly retort.
“Of course he is. Everyone is capable of love.”
“He’s a monster.”
“Maybe, but even beauty loved the beast.”
“I’m not living a fairy tale. I’m living an American horror story.”
Jett shrugs. “It’s whatever kind of literature you make it. If you believe it’s a horror story, it is. If you believe it’s a dark erotic romance, it is. The choice is yours. The mind is a powerful thing.”
I look at him like he’s crazy.
“Just trying to help,” he states.
“It’s not working,” I respond flatly.
He rolls his eyes. “No more chitchat. In you go.” Jett ushers me into the steaming shower, and as soon as I step under stream, I jump. “It hurts,” I whine as the running water hits my abused bottom. It feels like tiny needles stabbing me.
“It’s supposed to. It’s a reminder of who you belong to and what happens when you disobey. Makes you think twice about running again, huh?”
I stick my tongue out at him. It’s the only rebellion I have left.
“Wash, Ellie,” Jett instructs curtly.
I do as I’m told. Delicately. Every movement hurts. Once I’m done with the most torturous shower of my life, I dry off carefully. Jett tries to have me sit on the folding table, but that’s just not happening. My butt is way too sore. Instead, I stand as he blow dries my hair with a round brush making it smooth. Good thing he’s a foot taller than me. After that, he opens a drawer and retrieves two bottles of nail polish. A light peach colored one and a red.
“Which?” he asks.
“You’re giving me a choice?”
“Yes. I’m not your owner. I have no interest in dominating you.”
I survey the bottles, debating carefully. “Which do you think he’ll like?”
Jett cocks an eyebrow at me.
I purse my lips. “I don’t want to pick the wrong color and displease him. My ass would like to avoid another beating,” I clarify.
Jett shakes the peach color. The bottle jingles. “He won’t care. Trust me. He likes anything when it comes to you.”
I stare at Jett quizzically. He just smiles and starts removing my chipped polish.
“How long have you known Kayne?” I inquire tactfully as he carefully paints my nails. I don’t pretend to believe I have a friend or ally in Jett. But he doesn’t come off as threatening as long as I behave. He’s shown compassion, and even though I don’t trust him completely, it doesn’t mean I can’t pump him for information.
Jett flicks his eyes up at me. Then starts on a second coat.“A while.”
“What’s a while?”
“Years.”
“How did you meet?” I ask, my gaze jumping between his face and my hand.
