Page 28 of Brutal Surrender

“If you want to be all prim and proper with a fork, I can feed you with one.”

It’s clear that idea revolts her. She picks up a piece of potato and places it in her mouth. I watch her chew and swallow.

Even her eating is turning me on. Fuck me.

I let her know, “If you’re having thoughts of starving yourself to death, remember you don’t have my permission to die. Any and all attempts will fail, and you won’t like the punishment that follows.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself this time. I took those pills because I didn’t want your bastard growing inside of me.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she looks as if she wished she hadn’t spoken. She just revealed to me how much she detests that prospect and knows I’ll use it against her.

Instead of rubbing it in, I pull out the dining chair. “Sit down and eat some more.”

She hesitates, and I almost have to admire how much she loathes me. Even with her life in my hands—though I guess she doesn’t value her life much at the moment, but I can make her life a living hell—she doesn’t want to do anything that might faintly please me. I can’t help but think she would be an incredibly successful woman with the amount of verve she puts into hating me.

She sits down and takes another piece of potato. I take the chair opposite her and watch her chew slowly.

After swallowing, she asks, “So did you, like, throw the crew overboard because one idiot decided to give me some abortion pills in exchange for a blowjob?”

She tries to sound disinterested, but I know more than she thinks. I reply, “Maybe.”

Her eyes are downcast, but I notice she pauses ever so briefly while picking up another piece of potato. I consider how her fears for her accomplice’s well-being might affect her.

“Or maybe I let them go,” I add.

Instantly she looks up at me, then catches herself. “You’re not nice enough to do something like that.”

“I’m not? How do you think I have the unwavering loyalty of people like Misty, the doctor, and others in the triad?”

“Because they fear you.”

“Fear is not the best way to lead. As soon as they face a bigger fear, they’ll turn on you. I earned their loyalty through trust and by rewarding them, not scaring them. In short, I’m ‘nice.’”

She looks at me with skepticism.

“To my enemies, however,” I continue, and stare hard into her eyes, “to people who try to put a bullet through my head, I’m not nice.”

“You’re more than ‘not nice.’”

My headache stabs at me. When the pain recedes, I say, “I’m being nice to you at the moment, aren’t I? But you don’t seem very appreciative. Did you like your previous treatment better?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you treating me better? Are you planning to sell me to some pimp and need to fix up my bruises first?”

Not quite ready to stop being an asshole to her, I smile. “Something like that.”

She sucks in her breath.

“Not pleased?” I ask. “I’m surprised that you would rather be with me. I’m flattered, pet.”

Her cheeks flush. She pushes the tray away. “I lost my appetite.”

“That’s fine. You’ll eat sooner or later, or it’s back to being harnessed to the bed so we can stick a feeding tube in you.”

“This type of food is too heavy for me.”

“What do you prefer?”

“Soups, wraps, sushi.”

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