Page 60 of One Cut Deeper
“Predators can’t help but test each other. There can be only one alpha in the pack.”
I wrap both of my hands around his wrist, hugging his arm to me. “You stopped Tasker, so why are you still worried?”
He breathes against my ear. “I killed Tasker, Ranay. You have to face what I am.”
“Fine. He’s dead.” I still manage not to say that Charlie killed him. “But he wasn’t the person who broke in, was he?”
“Tasker knew about Sheba. He sure as hell wouldn’t have attempted a snatch-and-grab without neutralizing her.”
“And now whoever tried to get in knows about her too.”
“Exactly.”
“The same person who set off the alarm my first night?”
“I don’t know,” he answers slowly as he releases me. “That might have been Tasker, testing the security that first night.”
“So who’s this other guy?”
“I’m afraid we’ll find out all too quickly.” He drops his arm from my throat and gives me a playful shove toward the couch. “Now it’s time to reward you for such hard work. I believe I promised a fire and wine.”
“And cuddles.”
He chuckles as he heads to the kitchen. “Lots of cuddles. We’ll continue the defense lessons tomorrow. With this snow, I’ll be grounded for another day or two.”
“Since this is my reward for working hard, do I get to do anything I want?”
“Your wish is my command, kitten.”
A sweet sentiment, and oddly true, even though he’s Master. He’s already proven how thoroughly he cares for me. While he’s busy, I strip out of my sweaty clothes and kneel naked on the floor beside the couch.
His step falters as he returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He sets the items on the coffee table and then leans down to stroke my cheek. “I don’t expect such absolute submission. I never want you to feel like you owe me this kind of service. That you’re less than me. Because that’s the last thing on my mind.”
I tip my cheek against his hand for a deeper caress and then lean forward to rub my face on his thigh. “I know. But since that first night when we sat in here, I’ve been daydreaming about sitting with you like this.”
“This is how you wanted to sit with me? That first night?”
My face heats. “Yeah. I’d love to sit at your feet any day.”
He sits and starts to reach for the wine. “You’ll have to show me what you have in mind.”
“Allow me, Master, please. It’s my honor to serve you.”
Sitting back against the cushions, he looks at me. “And it’s my honor to simply look at you. You’re so beautiful.”
In general, I never like another person’s undivided attention. Nothing makes me freeze up quicker than feeling as if they see my flaws and deem me unworthy. But my Master is an entirely different situation. I exist for his pleasure. I want nothing more than to have his attention wholly focused on me, and while he knows my every fault in glaring detail, he revels in my weakness because it makes me need him all the more.
Keeping my gaze lowered demurely, I pose for him as a well-trained slave. Shoulders back but relaxed, so my breasts are lifted high. Slightly tilted to the side, so he can see all my curves. As gracefully as possible, I pour his wine. I offer him the glass, but he shakes his head.
“Sample it first.”
It’s a sacrilege for the slave to dine before the Master. When I hesitate, his mouth quirks to show his dimple.
“I love to watch you explore new things, and I collect wine, remember? See if you like it.”
I take a small sip and hold the wine on my tongue. It’s red and thick and dark, not chilled like the other wines he gave me. It doesn’t make my tongue cringe with its fruitiness or dryness. In fact, it’s almost like syrup, only not quite as sweet.
“Wow.”