Chapter Eight

The Honorific

Tucker

"For fuck's sake." Her words were a sigh. Evidently, Ella knew what he expected, but it still wasn't clear whether she would deliver.

"Say the word." He couldn't resist his arrogant tone. The look on her face was priceless. The life his, and likely other people's, money had extended to Bennett's family meant the wildcat had probably never had to comply with anyone before.

This was a whole new experience for her.

"And if I can't?" Her otherwise flawless brow creased. "This isn't easy for me, Tucker, but I guess you know that."

"If you can't… or won't,"—which was surely more to the point—"then you'll be bound to my bed for the rest of the day." God help him, but his cock roused at the enticing prospect. He wanted her bound there, but he wasn't ready to say it out loud yet. Keeping Ella wasn't supposed to have been about sexual attraction, but it was there, taunting him, whether he admitted it or not. "You may eat, but you'll wait for me to finish first and will be gagged while I have my meal."

"Are you crazy?" Her eyes widened. "Why would you want to treat me like that?"

"Like what?" he snorted, suppressing the real answer. He wanted to treat her that way because it turned him on to belittle her. It was a kink he'd long repressed, but still, it was there, taunting him. "I'm still offering you food and shelter."

"You'd be treating me like an animal!" Her tone was exasperated. "I don't deserve this, Tucker. It's bad enough like this." Her arms rose to reveal her ropes once more. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Not ‘Tucker.'" Come on, little girl. His gaze locked with hers. "You know what to call me."

It didn't matter to him which choice she opted for, of course. Whether she melded and started to refer to him the way he wanted or whether he had the pleasure of tying the beautiful blonde to his bed—he couldn't lose.

This was Tucker's game, after all.

But he was interested to know her choice. Was she so stubborn that she was prepared to find herself gagged again? Or would she finally cede?

He was about to find out.

"And if I say the word, you won't gag me again?" Her blinking green eyes drilled into him.

"I won't gag you now," he corrected.

"Great." Her tone was dry. "I have so many good options."

"You're stalling." He didn't blame her, but he was going to need her answer. Tucker was hungry, and if he needed to bind her to his bed, then he was going to do that before he tackled the rabbit pie. "Make your choice, little girl."

"Oh God." Brow creasing, she glanced at the floor. "Okay, I'll call you sir!"

He almost heard the unspoken ‘for fuck's sake' that flashed in her pretty eyes immediately after the concession. The pussy cat could be tamed, but deep down, she'd always be wild.

"Thank you."

There was less pleasure in the concession than he'd hoped, but he acknowledged it had been an effort for her. She deserved a reward for that.

"Would you like to eat now?"

"Yes." She nodded, sniffing back whatever emotion her capitulation had motivated.

No doubt she was overwhelmed with the myriad of feelings the last day had inspired. He might be an ex-soldier, but he wasn't devoid of all sentiment.

"Yes, what?" His lips curled at how much he was starting to sound like an old-fashioned headmaster. He could imagine the leggy blonde in one of those fetching school uniforms, her ass barely covered by the nearly-illegal length of her skirt. It was a stimulating mental image.

"Sir?" She heaved out an irritated breath.

"That's right." His reply was even more patronizing than he'd intended. "Well done. I'll bring you a piece of pie."

"Thanks." She sounded resigned as he stalked to the pot and carefully lifted the lid.

"Mmmm." He breathed in the delicious scent, taking a moment to exult in his creation.

"What kind of pie is it?" She rose to her feet and peered at the contents of the pot as he lifted out the wrapped pastry base.

"Meat pie."

That was all he was going to tell her. Tucker was willing to wager she was the sort of woman who would turn her nose up at the idea of eating rabbit. For all he knew, she considered herself to be a bloody vegan! He hoped not, or she'd starve in his company. Meat was the basis of every meal as far as he was concerned.

"Okay." She sounded uncertain. "It smells good."

"Thanks." He carried the pie to the counter and unwrapped the cloth. Unsheathing his knife, he cleaned the blade and sliced into his creation. "How hungry are you?" He peered over his shoulder to find she'd edged even closer.

"Very." Her brows knitted as though she couldn't believe she was admitting it.

He would have liked to have heard the word ‘sir' at the end of that sentence, but he chose to let the omission go. She'd ceded when it counted. Now was the time for them both to eat. He'd work on her manners later.

"Sit down." He motioned to the seat nearest him, slicing an ample portion from the pie and placing it down on the table before her. Steam rose from the slice as she took her place at the counter.

"Is there a plate?" she glanced at him, her expression caught somewhere between repulsion and confusion.

"I don't have much crockery, little girl." He enjoyed the way she flinched at her new pet name. The more Tucker said it, the more he loved it. There was no way he was giving it up. "I tend not to bother using what I have unless I have to. You can eat the pie without a plate."

"I can?" Her voice trailed away, her attention falling back to her meal before rising to him.

"Yes." He stifled laughter at the dismay dancing in her eyes. "Just use your fingers."

"But my hands are filthy." She lifted them, turning her palms over for him to see.

"Okay." Tucker's gaze flitted to them, assessing her pale skin. Her skin didn't look dirty, but he accepted it was reasonable to wash them before she ate. "So you want to wash them?"

"Yes, please." She shifted in her seat, apparently uncomfortable at having to ask his permission. He also hoped her ass stung nicely after her spanking yesterday.

"Yes, please, what?" He wondered if he'd tire of needing to prompt her for his title. Perhaps. But in the short term, the idea was electrifying. Her flushing cheeks were enticing. He couldn't wait to see how else he could provoke her blush.

"This again?" She bit her lip, her focus flitting back to her food.

"This again." He cocked a brow at her. "You agreed to use the term, so I'm asking you to do so."

"Is that what I agreed?" she sighed.

"I'm hungry, Ella." Much though he enjoyed her obvious discomfort, his hunger demanded that his patience wear perilously thin. "I don't have time for your musing. Address me properly, please."

"Yes, please, sir." She forced the words out through gritted teeth.

"Fine." He nodded in the direction of the fire.

Abiding Miss Bennett was proving to be one tumultuous encounter after another. He adored her snarky attitude only because he knew how much fun it was going to be to dampen it, but he'd underestimated how time-consuming the experience would be. If each request was going to require this much attention, he might have to take up meditation.

"I have a bowl of water for washing over there. Go ahead and clean your hands."

"Thanks." Finding her feet, she held his gaze as she trotted away. He watched as she found the correct bowl and lowered her hands into the water. "I don't suppose you have any soap, sir?" Her tone was wry as she glanced his way.

"No soap." He couldn't decide if she was mocking him or not.

"A hand towel?" Shaking out her hands, she turned to him.

"Use this." He yanked the cloth from under the pie and threw it in her direction.

"But you cooked with this?" Catching the cloth, she shook her head.

"Are you judging me, little girl?" Putting down his blade, he folded his arms. He wasn't genuinely pissed off with her, but Lord knows it was amusing to watch her breaths quicken as she tried to work it out for herself.

"Maybe." Her chin rose as she carried the cloth back to him. Sliding back to her chair, she was working hard not to show her intimidation. Tucker respected that. Ella was outpowered and outmaneuvered, but she wasn't yet so low she was prepared to admit it. "I'm used to better hygiene."

"My hygiene is fine." Or perhaps it wasn't? To be fair, he didn't spend much time worrying about the idea. All he could say was that he'd never managed to poison himself. "Any other complaints?" His tone was sardonic, but as he helped himself to a large slice of the pie, he realized he might just have invited a list from his guest.

"Plenty, sir." Her gaze narrowed as she leaned over the counter and lifted the pie to her lips.

"Go on." He couldn't say he much liked her tone, but she had at least used the honorific. It was progress of sorts.

Taking a moment to observe her as she bit into his short-crust pastry, he watched her lips as she chewed and swallowed. He couldn't recall watching a woman eat for a long time. He must have seen his mother during a meal at some point, but he couldn't specifically remember it, and there had been few others, save for the handful of women who'd served with him behind the front line.

"Well, the ropes for a start." She motioned to them as she took another bite. If little Ella had objections to the content of his pie, then she wasn't vocalizing them.

"The ropes are necessary." He'd already told her why. "I can't have you running off again, little girl."

She pulled in a shaky breath as she polished off the last of her slice. "So, you're going to keep me here?"

"Of course." He'd explained his motivations on that issue. "You know the reasons why."

"Alexander."

Her eyes fell closed as she presumably thought of her low-life father. He took the opportunity to enjoy a mouthful for himself. The pie was every bit as good as the aroma had conveyed, the gravy he'd made fused with the root vegetables he'd grown to create a delectable flavor.

If his life in the wilderness ever got old, he could definitely consider a career as a chef.

"I meant what I said, though," he told her once he'd finished his mouthful. "This acrimony doesn't have to stand."

"But the ropes do?" She was playing devil's advocate with that retort, and surely she knew it.

"The ropes do," he parroted. "Would you like another slice?"

"Maybe." Her lips twitched, the momentary smile lighting up her face. "It was good, thank you. Out of interest, what meat is it?" She turned her head to meet his gaze. "It's richer than I thought it would be."

"Gamier, you mean?" He'd always enjoyed the taste of rabbit, but then living in his current environment meant he did eat a lot of them.

"Gamier?"

"Yes." He dabbed up a few pastry crumbs on his fingertip. He made a mean pastry even if he did say so himself. "Rabbit's generally considered to be gamey."

"Rabbit?" Her jaw fell open, inviting the possibility of how Tucker might fill her mouth. "Oh God." Her hands flew to her lips, obstructing his view. "Is that what we're eating?"

"Yes." Not for the first time since he'd met Ella, her expression was invaluable. Shock mingled with abhorrence, the color draining from her cheeks as she rose to her feet.

"Where are you going, little girl?" He would absolutely never bore of calling her that, his balls contracting as he absorbed the sight of her. Even in her ugly sweater and joggers, Ella was lovely. Plus, Tucker had the advantage of knowing precisely what she was hiding under her clothes.

"I can't believe it." She shook as she searched the corners of the room with her frantic gaze.

"It's fine," he assured her. "Wild rabbit is lean and a great source of protein. There's an abundance of them in the forest."

"I'm going to be sick." Heaving in air, she folded before him and fell to her knees.

"You'll be fine," he reiterated, although looking at her, he was starting to wonder if it was true. Ella looked shakier than when he'd spanked her in the forest, and that was saying something.

"It's not fine." She heaved again, her hair falling around her face as she crawled awkwardly toward the door. Her bound wrists meant smooth movement was impossible. "I kept rabbits as a child. I can't believe I've eaten one. I feel ill."

"The rabbit had a good life." He rose to his full height and watched her clumsy progress. "And its death was quick and painless. It would have been happy to give its life for you."

"Happy?" She shook her head, clawing at the floorboards as she forced her weary body on. She'd nearly reached the door when her gasped mewl filled the air again. "I need air."

"Ask me nicely." He strode around her, unlocking the door and releasing the bolt as she reached her destination and slammed her trussed hands against the wood.

"I'm going to be sick, sir." Her face was ashen as she glared in his direction. "Let me out."

Tucker didn't much like the tone of her voice, but her pale, sallow skin left him in little doubt. Ella really was going to vomit, and unless he wanted the contents of her stomach spewed over his floor, he'd better open the door and help her.

"Hang on." Pushing the door open, he flooded the room with cool air. "Let me help." Hoisting her into the air, he carried her across the decking and toward the roots of a giant tree.

"Here." He placed her on the grass, holding back her hair as she panted on her knees. "Do what you need to do."