Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
My teeth are chattering. I’m irrationally cold, perhaps from panic.
Yamal doesn’t touch me, but he sets a hand on Daddy’s arm. “She’s going to be okay, Lasim. I know a taser can be a serious shock to the system, but it wasn’t directly against her skin, and they aren’t meant to kill.”
“She’s so small…” Daddy mutters as he finishes removing my clothes before inspecting every inch of my skin.
“I don’t see any bruising,” Yamal says in a very soothing voice. “Roll her onto her side so I can see her back.”
Daddy presses a palm between my breasts and guides me onto my side.
“Nothing,” the doctor whispers.
As Daddy lowers me onto my back again, Yamal pulls a stethoscope out of his bag and leans over to listen to my heart. He moves it around to several places, listening intently.
I squirm. It’s all I can manage to do so far, as I’m still coming out of the effects of the muscle relaxant. Maybe the adrenaline and the taser have given me a boost of energy and hurried along my recovery.
Yamal puts his stethoscope away. “I think she’s going to be fine, Lasim. I really do.”
Daddy hovers over me, looking at my face. “Does anything hurt, Little pet?”
I lick my lips. “No, Daddy. I’m just cold.” And scared.
Daddy grabs the blanket and wraps it around my body, turning me into a rolled bundle before lifting me into his arms. He follows Yamal to the door.
Yamal opens it and turns to face us. “I know I don’t need to tell you to keep a close eye on her this evening. If you see any changes or she does anything that concerns you, call me.”
“I will. Thanks.” Daddy shuts the door before locking it in three places. Next, he pulls out his phone and makes a call. I don’t know who answers, but he says, “I’m going to need more security.”
FOURTEEN
By the time Daddy finishes feeding me my last bottle for the night, I’m overheated from being snuggled against him, buried in the blanket. I don’t even have clothes on. Just a diaper. But he’s so warm and I’m cocooned.
“Daddy…” I whine.
He jerks his gaze to mine. “What’s the matter? Are you hurting anywhere?”
“No, Daddy. I’m too hot. Can you put me down?”
“Not a chance. Maybe not ever.” He shakes his head as he takes my bottle and carries me into the living room.
I can’t keep from giggling. “Daddy…”
“I’m serious. Do you have any idea how scared I was?” He sits in the middle of the couch, still cradling me.
“Yes, Daddy. I know you were scared, but it’s over now. I’m fine.”
“That fucker tasered you. He fucking tasered my girl.”
My breath hitches, and my eyes go wide. For one thing, Daddy never gets this upset, and he rarely cusses. I’ve learned a lot of new words since he purchased me, some of which are very colorful. Fucker is a strong one.
But what’s more important than his use of profanity is the fact that he called me his girl. Not his pet. His girl.
“Daddy…” I wriggle one arm free from the cocoon of blankets and cup his face.
He sets his hand over mine and slides my palm around to kiss it. “You’re my world, Isla. My entire life flashed before my eyes when I realized that man wanted to take you from me.”
“He couldn’t have. I was securely attached to you. He didn’t have a chance.” It doesn’t escape my notice that Daddy just called me by my name. My real name.
Daddy shakes his head. “He could have done something to knock me out or incapacitate me in some way.”
“I would have still been attached to you,” I point out.
“Until he cut off my hand,” Daddy growls.
I gasp. His imagery is not something I need.
His brow is furrowed, and his nostrils are flaring with every inhale. He’s upset, more than I’ve ever seen him. I’m not sure I’m capable of soothing him, but I have to try.
Before I can think of anything to say, he starts rambling. “They’re going to increase security in the building, so those who don’t live here can’t get past the front desk without clearance. My boss is arranging for two people to escort us from our apartment to work and back daily. I’ll hire someone to increase the safety features inside our home.”
I’m focused on the way he keeps indicating this apartment is “ours,” not just “his.” He’s never spoken like this before. Suddenly, he’s giving me human qualities like “girl,” and including me in our relationship as an “us.” He even called me Isla. It seems like there’s reason to hope he’ll stop constantly referring to me as a pet.
I’m now strong enough to push to sitting on his lap, and I shrug out of the tight blanket wrapped around me. I don’t even care that my chest is bare. In fact, I’m glad. I need more skin-on-skin contact with him.