Chapter 3

Reed was a sulky beast,and instead of forcing him into the cage right away, I let him flop onto my bed because his mangled knee was giving him trouble. I wasn't happy with the grunge that coated his body on my thousand-dollar duvet cover, but it couldn't be helped. It was either let him lie down now or try to scoop him off the floor later when he was too exhausted to help, and I wasn't one for unnecessary strain.

He glared at me, chest heaving.

I absolutely wasn't moved by the way his plump lips trembled with pain or his green eyes flashed with fury.

My belly warmed. "Close your traitorous little eyes and rest for a while."

His lips twitched, and I could imagine all sorts of terrible words swirling through his head. Part of me wanted him to let loose so I could get a good read on his intelligence. I'd always thought a man could be measured by the width and breadth of his insults. Maybe it wasn't a healthy way to go through life, but this insight into the human condition had served me well. That's how I knew Sloan was one of the smartest men in the Company and deserved to be the boss. Though he rarely lowered himself to be crass, when he did, the things he said could cut a man to the core.

Would Reed be a Sloan?

Doubtful.

Probably more of a puffball like Fallon Maher.

"Oh, get it out now, you brute. Go ahead. Tell me to go fuck myself." Excitement tingled in my belly as he huffed and crossed his thick arms so that the biceps bulged, but he did close his eyes and soon enough he was sawing logs.

Chuckling, I slipped out of the room into the hallway, keeping the door open so I could stare at his fantastic body and monitor him while I took out my phone. First, I confirmed with Rory that the knee surgery would be able to be done tomorrow, and the doc assured me he could pull some strings and make it happen—so long as money wasn't a hindrance.

It wasn't.

I transferred him forty grand and told him to keep me posted.

After that, I messaged a dentist I knew to see if we could get Reed there later in the week. I wasn't a cruel Master. Any animal that belonged to me would at least be well cared for. If he managed to survive everything I planned to throw at him, he at least needed to be mostly whole.

"What am I doing?" I whispered, leaning my head against the wall. That hulking man on the bed was under my control. I closed my eyes and swallowed.

It was beautiful.

Impractical.

A bone-deep delight made me feel like my head should be touching the ceiling and my feet should be off the floor. I could tell Reed to do anything, and he'd have to comply. I rubbed my belly and moaned. There was a world of torture and joy out there, and I could make him experience anything. Endless agony. Boundless pleasure.

His entire existence was tied to my whims.

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," I murmured, grinning as I turned away from the bedroom door. Fear zipped through me. I shouldn't leave him alone, but part of me wanted to see what he would do if he thought he could get the drop on me. Fuck, if he could manage to be quiet and cunning enough to murder me, he deserved to win. I rushed down the stairs and hopped as I hit the ground floor, strolling through the living room and out past the entertaining nook, outfitted with a widescreen TV and couch, and on to the kitchen.

Running my hand over the smooth white-and-black swirled marble countertop, I came to a stop on the other side and smiled. I loved this house. I'd never thought I would live long enough to enjoy the money I made, but when I'd hit thirty, I'd said fuck it and invested. It was too big for me alone—or even six people. I didn't care. It grounded me to have a home base, even though I knew as well as anyone in the Company that I might have to abandon it on a moment's notice.

That was the life we lived.

A meaty beast deserved an animal feast, so I decided to make some rare steaks. I flipped on the stove burner as I walked past, and the fire whooshed to life. I headed for the fridge with a swagger in my step. The one thing I hadn't liked when I'd moved in was that the appliances were built-in to blend with the cabinets. I'd kept forgetting where the damned fridge was because the front was covered in white wood. I had no idea why the fridge had been considered enough of an eyesore to hide, but I'd never really learned how to be a normal wealthy person. Maybe I just didn't get it.

"This is going to be so much fucking fun." I rolled my eyes but couldn't fight off my smile. A half hour later I'd made a steak salad for myself, and I also had a plate of steak cut up into cubes for Reed. I tucked two bottles into the crook of my arm—water for me and Gatorade for Reed—grabbed my bowl with a fork shoved in it and his plate, and then carefully walked upstairs.

Every sense I had was on high alert as I approached the landing, ready to toss the food and fight for my life if I had to—Yes, please.—but I was disappointed. Reed wasn't waiting to jump out and kill me.

This time.

The poor creature must really be tired. I whistled as I walked to my bedroom door, hoping to give him ample warning to try to jump me, but when I nudged it open, he was still laid out on the bed.

How sad.

His muscled chest rose and fell with the deep exhalations of a heavy sleep. I set down the plate and bowl on the dresser, dumped the drinks next to them, and then went over to the bed. I studied him for a while. Reed would be sexy when he was healed. He was all man. His curvy lips had me mesmerized. They looked so soft. My cock decided to get in on the action and chub up.

I shook my head and stared down my body. "Traitors don't get those kinds of treats. I'll take care of you later."

Reed's eyebrows furrowed, and I crept closer to the bed, crouching next to him. His lips parted and the hole from his missing tooth made me want to touch it with my finger. I shot my hand forward and patted his cheek. He moaned, but his eyes didn't open. I did that again, and when I got no real results, I slapped him harder.

He gasped and jolted upright on the bed, only to groan and flop back down again.

Humming, I took the plate from the dresser and set it down on the floor at the end of the bed near the short bench there. I opened the bottle of Gatorade and placed it on the floor as well. Reed stared at me while I worked, and I took my food to the bench, where I sat on the edge, feet flat on the floor so I could move quickly if necessary.

"Aren't you hungry?" I asked, then took a bite of my salad. I was a ranch whore, and I groaned as the creamy goodness hit my tongue.

"No."

"Too bad. You need to eat anyway. And drink fluids. Especially if you want a fun pill. You won't be able to eat in the morning." I gestured toward the plate on the floor—exactly what an expensive pet might expect for a meal—and he leaned up to get a look at what I was pointing at. "You can sit on your ass on the floor, since I know your knee is injured, but as soon as you're healed, I'll expect you to eat on your knees like the traitorous dog you are. No hands." While he processed that and glowered, I picked up a remote and turned on the fire across from us. The flames blazed to life, and I enjoyed the cheerful gleam on his filthy skin.

He growled and lay back on the bed, closing his eyes.

I decided to enjoy my food while it was hot, but the second I was finished, I got up and slid the bowl onto my dresser. Stalking toward the bed was fun this time because his muscles tensed, giving away that he was paying close attention to where I was in the room.

When I was at his side, I waited.

He didn't open his eyes, stubborn as ever.

Grinning, I slapped him across the face, but this time he caught my wrist before I could pull back. I knocked his grip away and went for the throat, sinking my fingers into his neck. He gasped and kicked his good leg, glaring at me. His eyes were green flecks of hatred, and a throbbing heat settled low in my groin.

"Oh, you're going to get up off this bed and do as I say. And you know why? Not because of your family, though I'm sure that's a factor for consideration. No, you're scared of me," I said with a wide grin.

He struggled for a breath and stayed silent.

"Yes, you are. And I'm sure it burns you up inside that I'm half a foot shorter than you. You're that kind of guy, right? But you're in pain. You already hurt. Maybe you've been thinking about what my true intentions are." I skated my gaze along his body, and the trembling of his limbs intensified. "I don't fuck traitors, so you're safe." I sighed and tugged on him until he followed me.

His grip was no joke as he grabbed my wrists, and a spike of dread lanced through me. Even in this state, with his size and muscle, he might be able to hurt me if he decided to try. Reed would be a terror when he was healed. I wanted him to stay looking nice, too, so I would have to let him work out. Keep him in tip-top shape. He could snap my neck with his bare hands if he knew a good technique.

I smiled at him, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Can't eat if you're choking me out."

"Oh, this is hardly that," I said with an eye roll and dropped my hold on him.

He sucked in a few unnecessary deep breaths and glared at me as he took at least two minutes to work out how to get off the bed without help. I didn't offer any advice as he struggled to his feet. Instead, I took the time to study the black angel wings decorating his back. The tattoo was crisp and well done. My fingers tingled to trace along the feathers, but I curled them into my palms instead. I could've let him eat sitting on the bed, but I wasn't going to make everything easy for him just because I'd decided not to let Sloan's boys make hamburger out of him. He limped around the end of the bed to the plate and stared down at it, then at me.

"Don't look at me. Figure it out."

A feral sound—so close to a growl it stood the hair on the back of my neck on end—filled the room, and it was coming from Reed. He lowered himself toward the floor with his good leg, keeping the mangled one mostly straight. The maneuver required enough strength that it made me uncomfortable in an interesting way to see it in motion. He was able to use both arms to catch himself and keep the fucked-up knee extended out in front of him. Naked and bandaged, he reminded me of an ancient Greek statue I'd seen once at the Met that was simply named Wounded Warrior.

"You can pick up the plate for now, but no hands," I said, gingerly lowering myself to the bed. I crossed my legs and rested my folded hands on my knees. "Go ahead. Eat. You need something in your body to start healing."

He glared, and I mentally traced around those beautiful lips. They were a little mangled and swollen, but he would be amazing when he healed. Yes, I'd done the right thing by keeping him off the chopping block.

He was unique.

"If you want your chance to beat me to death later, you have to be a good beast and eat up now," I said in a singsong tone, flashing him my teeth. "Go on."

"What is it?"

"Oh, you know." I tilted my head back and grinned at the ceiling. "Soylent Green is people, and so is that." The plate clattered to the floor, and I laughed when I glanced down and the food had scattered. "It's steak. What do you think it is? Eat it."

He eyed the pieces on the floor, and when I said nothing, he picked up the plate and started piling the meat onto it again. I wasn't concerned because this house was cleaned regularly enough there couldn't be anything too bad on the food, even if I wouldn't have wanted to eat it. He raised one cube of steak toward his mouth, and I cleared my throat.

"No hands."

He glared and dropped the food back to the plate, and another awful, wonderful thrill scrabbled through my stomach as he bent his neck and carefully used his mouth to capture the food and eat it. I let out a sigh as my body warmed all over. He ate half the meat before he slowed down and set the plate aside.

"The Gatorade. Drink it all."

"I don't feel so great," he said quietly, shoulders slumping.

"Sip it, then."

We sat there for an interminable amount of time. It was getting late, I could tell, but that didn't matter too much. My phone buzzed and I tugged it out of my pocket.

Rory

Be at the Lombardozzi Medical Center with him around ten in the morning.

I hummed because that was doable and put my phone away again. I froze, feeling a bit like prey as Reed watched me. I could see him adding together what he assumed were my weaknesses—my size and build. Men like him never calculated in other important factors when they thought about a physical conflict, namely my inability to participate in a fair fight and how quickly I'd draw a weapon—even against a friend.

And Reed was no friend.

I stood, and he glanced at the cage again. Fear, or something close to it, gleamed in his eyes.

"Oh, eager are we?"

He cringed.

I laughed. "Not yet, pet. We have to get you cleaned up. You don't smell the greatest, and I don't want your nice bedding in the cage to stink up my bedroom."

"This is your room?" He glanced around.

"Yes. I have to keep a close eye on my new pet. You are a rescue after all. Who knows what sorts of terrible habits you might have. Will you piss everywhere? Clearly that's already a problem. How hard will you bite if you think you can get away with it? Yes, you require close, constant surveillance." I bent toward him and patted his head. He went stiff as I pulled my hand back.

"So what? You want me to shower?"

I sighed, eyeing his injuries. "In a perfect world I would soak you in a tub for a year, but yes, standing you in a shower and trying to keep your bandages dry will probably be the best we can do. Follow me." I didn't wait for him to stand, simply walked across the room to the bathroom and flipped on the light.

The shower was simple yet elegant with silver fixtures, white tiles, and a white ceramic floor surrounded by glass walls. The sink counter was gray marble. There was a tub in the large bathroom on this floor, so I hadn't bothered with one in here. I pointed the showerhead closer to the tiles and turned the knob that was set into the wall until warm water sent steam into the air. Reed still hadn't managed to get into the bathroom by the time I was done, and I found him using the bench to get to his feet when I went back out into the bedroom. I let him limp unassisted into the bathroom to gauge how badly he might be able to hurt me if I let my guard down.

The glare he slammed me with could've stripped paint off a car.

I stepped aside to let him go into the bathroom.

"You're not touching me naked," he hissed out, and I grinned.

"Okay. Whatever you want."

He gave me a suspicious glance, and I shrugged. If he wanted to wear himself out struggling, that was fine. He took the time to unwind the bandages from his left hand, which had me wincing on the inside. Of all his wounds, those missing fingers looked the worst after the knee. He turned, and I wasn't disappointed at the clear view of his muscular ass. It was ghostly pale compared to the lingering summer tan on the rest of his body, and I snickered at that, earning a glare. I didn't try to catch a peek at his cock, but when he turned again it swung, thick and plump. If he grew at all he'd have a decent sized weapon.

I tried to ignore the illicit excitement his nudity caused. The bathroom seemed more intimate than my bedroom, and the smaller space made me more aware of his body.

He went into the shower and took a washcloth that had been hanging on a railing, ready for use, and squirted some soap on it. He left the door open, but I didn't care. He was smart enough not to fully step under the water, though I sighed. Enough of the water dotted the rest of him that I'd have to redo the bandages after this. Shrugging, I left him there and jogged downstairs, then back with the first aid supplies. Again, I was disappointed when he was still in the shower struggling to bathe as I returned. I flipped on the overhead fan, and he startled, glaring at me through the glass.

I only shrugged. "Not my fault your nerves are as steady as your knee."

Reed gave me a sour frown that was kind of cute and turned back toward the water. He shifted around to allow the water to pelt his head and gasped, I thought maybe because rivulets ran down over his fucked-up knee. And then it happened. He planted his foot the wrong way and toppled to the hard tiles, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Oh, that hurt," I said and shoved my hands into my pockets. I stepped closer to watch him scrabbling around, trying to figure out how the fuck to get back on his feet.

"Damn it, okay help me," he said through gritted teeth. I could tell it decimated his pride to utter the request. I had to break him of thinking he had a right to things like help and haughtiness.

"Oh, but you told me not to touch you, so no, I don't think I will." I shrugged.

It took nearly ten minutes before he was back on his feet again, legs trembling, but he got there under his own steam and even managed to wash his hair. I was impressed. There were no more spiteful words, only heated scowls as he took the towel I offered him when he was finished.

I gave him a sweet smile, and his face crumpled in suspicion. "I have to go back downstairs and clean up the kitchen. Dry off and redo your bandages." I waved at the supplies on the counter. "Make sure you do a good job because I won't be as gentle as last time if I have to fix something."

He grunted and draped the towel over his head, rubbing at his short hair.

I left him there, humming as I went. Had he already been broken? I'd given him ample opportunity to try to murder me. I sighed as some of my excitement ebbed away. He'd had such promise and fire in him earlier. Where had it all gone?

I really did clean up in the kitchen. I dragged it out and swept the floor. Wiped down the counters. Started the dishwasher. I stopped to make a cappuccino, which always took a few minutes because I ground the beans each time I made coffee. I even hauled out the frothing wand I usually saved for lazy Sunday mornings so that I could have an extra foamy one. I strained my hearing as I worked, but everything was silent. When I was done, I carried my cappuccino up the stairs. I thought I heard hurried thumps and almost shouted "Yes!" but kept myself under wraps. As I arrived at my bedroom door, I gently shoved it open.

The cage was still intact. I'd expected he might do something to it. I paced the length of the room, listening, all my senses on hyper alert. I set my mug on the dresser as I passed it to leave both hands free. When I got to the bathroom it was, of course, empty. My belly tingled with happiness, and I let my knees go a little loose as I walked, ready for anything. He wasn't in my closet or under the bed.

The house was huge. This would be a fun game.

I rubbed my hands together. How to proceed? I thought about calling out but didn't want to give away that I knew he was missing. I backtracked out into the hallway. There was no telling which direction he'd gone, but most people who were right-handed would go right coming out of a room. But if I went left, it was closer to the stairs, so I chose that direction and checked the next room over from mine. It was an office and it was empty. There weren't many places to hide, so I didn't investigate too deeply, just shut the door again.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the next door to one of the guest bedrooms. Movement behind me had me ducking and rolling, but I caught a glancing blow to my left shoulder that took my breath away. A pot shattered on the floor beside me, spreading dirt and ceramic everywhere. I bounced back to my feet, and Reed still blinked at the spot where I'd started. He could barely walk, so he only hobbled back a step and grimaced when I skipped over and slapped him hard across the face.

"Bad, Beastie! We don't make shoddy attempts at murdering our Master. Either we do it right or we don't do it at all."

He tried to shove me, but I knocked him off balance into the wall, then grabbed his arm and tugged him around to head in the direction of my room. He screamed when he put his weight down on his bad knee. I dragged him forward as he collapsed to the floor, not letting him get back up. He fell to his side, and as heavy as the bastard was, I used all my strength to pull him into my bedroom.

Eventually he started to half crawl, almost like he didn't know what else to do other than give in and help. I opened the door at the front of the cage, and he was starting to shake himself all over and try to stand by the time I swung back around to face him.

I pointed. "In. Now."

Reed bared his teeth at me, and I laughed when he tried to rush me. It only took me dancing to the side to avoid the hit. His shoulders heaved and his hands clenched into fists.

"Forget about your family already, huh?"

He froze, and I used the moment of insecurity to grab the back of his neck and haul him down toward the floor with all my weight. I was sweating by the time I got him shoved toward the cage, and he yelled again as he bumped his injured knee. I pushed on his nicely muscled ass, and he sprawled forward onto his stomach, half on the mattress, half on the cage floor. He tried to kick at me with his good leg, but I merely grabbed the cage door and swung it. When the thick glass caught on the foot of his bad leg he screamed and rolled to his back, pulling it out of the way so that I could close and lock the door. I took a lot of pleasure in tugging on the black steel lock to make sure it was secure. Laughing, I planted a kiss on top of the cage and smiled down at him.

"Fuck, that was fun. If you'd have listened, I would've tucked you in." I glanced at the spilled water bowl that had soaked his mattress. Some of his bandages were also stained with scarlet blood. "Now look at what you did. You're such a messy beast." I shook my head. I went over to the dresser and picked up my cappuccino, sipping it as I turned to stare at my newest acquisition. My heart thudded and the thrill of the hunt was still fluttering in my belly. My cock hardened, and I sucked in a deep breath as Reed flipped me off.

"Oh, you need a firm hand." I sighed happily.

"Gotta piss. Let me out."

"After that?" I shrugged. "No. Use the water bowl."

I adjusted my hard shaft in my pants so it wasn't scrunched, then tugged out my phone. I knew a guy who was open-minded, and I texted him as I glanced at Reed out of the corner of my eye. The way I was feeling right now, I wanted to get fucked while I was still riding the adrenaline high, and I wanted to see my snarling beast while I came on a thick cock.

"I'm going to come so fucking hard," I said out loud. I lived alone and talking to myself was a bad habit I'd gotten into, and I realized that I might need to curb it in the future when Reed jerked back against the side of his cage. I chuckled. "You don't have to worry." I rolled my eyes. "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a rapist. I'd shoot you first."

He didn't look like he believed me, but that was fine. His fear of the unknown was delicious all on its own.