Page 15 of Speechless
She shivered in response.
“Last chance,” he warned, holding a quarter of toast to her lips. “Open.”
Jenna obeyed, thankful to let someone else take the reins for a little while and give her mind a break from the constant war it held against itself. She felt the toast on her tongue, then experienced an influx of flavor and texture. Soft yet crispy, warm slick butter on top of bread soggy in the middle, crunchy on the edges.
“Good girl.” Connor crooned with pride evident in his tone. His free hand stroked over her hair, a reward from her master. His hand went to the plate to pick up another quarter.
Before she could think, she’d snatched the plate away from him, pulling it in front of her and caging her arms around it protectively. Hers, it was all hers. Her teeth bared in a snarl as she tore into the food, almost choking herself by cramming her mouth full before she’d finished chewing and swallowing the previous piece.
“Slow down, you’re going to be sick.”
She didn’t care. Couldn’t care about anything but filling the void in her belly, satiating the hollow pain hunger brought. Even as the precious food settled like lead in her belly, she couldn’t stop herself from wolfing it down.
Just like she couldn’t help clawing at the big tanned hand that tried to lift the plate from the cage of her arms, using her nails to dig into flesh as she frantically stuffed more into her mouth. A combination of saliva and melted butter went down the wrong way, sending her into a fit of vicious coughing. She nearly cried as barely chewed toast sprayed over the table while she struggled for breath.
“Warned you, sweetheart.” Calm as a saint, Connor rose from his seat and moved behind her, the heel of his hand thumping firmly between her shoulder blades. Planning or luck had him missing the biggest wounds. “I know you’re hungry but pigging food will only make you sick.”
Tears filled her eyes as she wheezed for air, feeling as though Sire’s hand clamped brutally around her throat. She gripped the edge of the table, trying to stand when panic consumed her, but Conner just leaned her forward and rubbed his palm over her back between rhythmic blows.
Hungry was an understatement. It barely registered on the scale of how ravenous she’d become at the sight and smell and taste of simple buttered toast. It was humiliating to be reduced to her most base form by bread.
Her first pull of air was jagged and harsh, filling her lungs and easing the strain of suffocation. The firm smacks on her back stopped, settled into soothing circles that helped her focus while her body shuddered in relief.
“Here, she needs to sip this.” The woman from earlier appeared beside the table, a steaming cup in her hand. She set it down, casting a wary eye over Jenna. “Might want to get her to the bathroom, Con. Your girl’s looking a little green around the gills.”
Attempting to edge away from the nurse, Jenna swallowed hard against the sudden flush of saliva forming in her mouth. No matter how many times or how strongly she willed it, the wave of nausea rose fast and firm.
“She’ll be okay once she calms. Her system’s a bit haywire this morning.” More gentle rubbing, crooned words drowned out by the pulse of blood in her ears.
“Yeah…if you say so.”
It didn’t escape Jenna’s notice that the woman took several deliberate steps away in the three seconds before Jenna’s stomach twisted into a hard knot…then expelled its meagre contents expressively over the table. The initial retch took her by surprise, wrenching her belly and throat badly enough she thought she’d be bruised internally.
“Ah, fucking hell.” Connor cursed and moved his hand up to her neck, massaging her nape reassuringly. There was no anger in his tone, no threat of repercussion for what would have been a termination offense in Sire’s house. “Might as well get it all up, baby. We’re not going to make it to the bathroom.”
Shame and embarrassment filled her even as the second retch heaved up most of her stomach lining and a quart of bile. Tears of frustration and disgust mingled with sweat, but not once did he disparage her for the horror spilling over his furniture.
By the time she was done, Jenna was exhausted down to the bone. Her knees trembled and gave way as her body shook with fatigue and shock. Half expecting to collapse face-first into her own mess and willing to accept that mortification, she was grateful to find herself swept up effortlessly into Connor’s arms.
“Leave that, Sarah,” he ordered his nurse, turning to leave the kitchen. “I’ll see to it once she’s napping.”
Sarah scoffed as she rooted through the cupboards beneath the sink. “Nonsense. I’ve cleared up shit, blood and vomit before, Connor. This is nothing compared to what I’ve dealt with; go see to her, she’s damn near translucent.”
Jenna’s eyes rolled in their sockets as she gestured for Connor to set her down. It was her mess, she wouldn’t—couldn’t—leave it to others to clean up. She was too well trained.
Sire had once made her mop the kitchen floor of her own blood after he’d beaten her into oblivion, chuckling darkly as she struggled to hold the mop with broken fingers and almost blinded by the swelling around her eyes. The crop in his hand had urged her to complete the task, even when the pain became a tumultuous wave threatening to sweep her away.
Nausea and exhaustion were nothing in comparison.
“Be still, baby.” Connor’s lips brushed her ear, sent a ripple down her spine. “We’ll get you cleaned up and back to bed. You need rest.”
No! She needed to wash and disinfect the area she’d soiled, ensure everything was as it was before she ruined it. Anxiety wormed through her as Connor ignored her silent pleas and carried her from the room, his strong arms banded around her protesting form.
“Enough, Jenna,” he commanded in a low but adamant tone. “Pale and clammy. Weak movements. You’re not well enough to take on a feather duvet, never mind me. Is it so hard for you to let me to take care of you?”
Jenna went limp. The question wasn’t harshly presented, but it had the effect of making her feel…ashamed. Stupid, really, but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful for everything Connor was doing for her. Didn’t want to give him a reason, any reason, to throw her away.
“Good girl. Just relax and let me handle the shit, okay?”