Page 33 of Speechless

He just reprimanded her in a kind voice and taught her patiently how to eat like the human being she was.

“Rule number one: no gulping food until it makes you sick.”

Jenna blushed. That was one of her worst violations. Sometimes the hunger was so acute—or she believed it was—she just…inhaled the food. No chewing, just stuff and swallow.

“Rule number two: you’re not a dog. Knife and fork, baby.”

A smile curved her lips. Tapping the ends of the utensils in her ready hands on the table, she bit her bottom lip to keep her excitement from overflowing. Already her mouth was watering from the smell of whatever was on the plate in Connor’s hand.

“Rule number three: no snarling, snapping or possessive behavior. This is yours; you don’t need to protect it.” Connor set the plate down in front of her. “Slow and careful, baby. There’s more if you can manage them.”

The squeal almost pushed past the sound barrier. Wide-eyed with joy, she looked up at Connor with a question in her eyes, and her chin wobbled when he nodded. She waited, barely, for him to fetch his own plate and settle opposite her before she ripped into heaven.

Pancakes.

Connor nudged the syrup toward her, and she took it, dribbled several circles of gold on her breakfast. She must have beenreallygood. Nice things only happened if she was really good. One time, she hadn’t doneanythingwrong for a week and Sire had patted her on the head.

Not with a belt or his fist, but with his hand.

The fluffy pancake in her mouth turned to ash at the thought of Sire. He didn’t belong here. She didn’t want him here in this sunny kitchen, when she was trying her hardest to please Connor and follow the eating rules.

“Jenna? Everything okay?” Concerned, Connor paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, gray eyes dark with worry.

Sire didn’t belong here, Jenna told herself firmly. Hewasn’there. Only if she let him sour the peace she had with Connor, and one day she would be strong enough to block out the monster. Connor was her world now, and Sire couldn’t beat her bloody for thinking it.

She chewed slowly, swallowed. Offering Connor a hesitant smile, she banished bad thoughts and concentrated on cutting a small piece of pancake, dabbing it in syrup, putting it in her mouth. A little of the joy had been lost, but what was lost could be found again.

Wasn’t she proof of that?

“You’re going to have an easy day today. Clinic opens in an hour, so I’ll have some patients to see. I’ve got Netflix on the TV, pillows and a duvet on the couch, and pizza on order for lunch.”

She brightened. She liked falling asleep with him. Waking meant having strong arms around her, his scent everywhere, the power of his big body guarding her against dreams.

Like this morning. Her head cushioned on his chest so the first thing she heard was his heart under her ear, the slow rhythm of his breathing. She much preferred it to being dragged from her shed by her hair, through mud and grass to the house.

No bad thoughts, she reminded herself.

“I want to check those sutures before we settle you down. Sarah should be here soon. She helps me with the clinic, so we’ll both check in and make sure you’re okay.” Connor rose and cleared his empty plate. “More pancakes, baby?”

Wait, what? Jenna frowned at him, shook her head. Her fingers linked together nervously as he took her finished plate, stroked his hand over her head.

“Come on, then. Quick check over, then rest.”

Her frown deepened. He was leaving her? No, he wouldn’t leave her. She could sit in the corner and be quiet as a mouse. She’d fit under his desk, could hold onto his pants, and no one would know she was there. The thought of being apart from him was…distressing.

Taking his hand was easy. She slipped hers into it, felt safe when his fingers closed around hers. She followed docilely, almost hugging his arm to support her unsteady legs. It felt so nice when he carried her, as though she was weightless and floating through the air. No risk of falling, crashing, dying. Just drifting along in the arms of an angel.

Unease filled her at the doorway to the exam room. She stopped on the threshold, dug her heels in at Connor’s persuasive tug on her hand.

“No needles, baby. Not today, I promise.”

Mouth dry, she studied the innocuous room with wary eyes. She’d been in here often enough it should have been a second home, but it still upset her stomach. She was vulnerable in here—Connor didn’t know how vulnerable she became when she was on the table, at his mercy, trusting him not to hurt her.

Because he could. Whatever he chose to do, she couldn’t stop him.

Her breath wheezed.

“None of that now.” He turned, sighed. His fingers squeezed hers gently then released her. “I’m not forcing you to go in, Jenna. I’m going to start preparing for clinic. If you feel brave enough to come in, that’s good. If you can’t today, it’s not the end of the world.”