Page 64 of Savage

He finally looks away from his phone to glare down at me.

I hunch my shoulders, trying to make as small of a target of myself as possible, and stare at the floor. I can still practically feel the heat of his gaze on me.

“I suppose you’re hungry,” Hunter says, and even that feels like an accusation.

I swallow hard. “I…” I have to watch every word I say, but at the same time, I can’t think for too long or he’ll get upset. “I don’t want to… um…” Fuck. I don’t want him to think I’m saying I don’t want to eat. “I don’t want to starve your… your property, Master,” I say in a rush. “But I don’t know if I’ve earned food.”

“Ah, so you do know that you need to eat.” The accusation makes me flinch. Fine, I hadn’t wanted to eat when he’d first bought me. But it’s different now.

I wouldn’t need to eat as much if I were still high.

“Stay,” Hunter says, and heads out the bedroom door.

I stay.

I let out a deep, shaky breath, still feeling the cold in the marrow of my bones. I should’ve just taken a warm shower. He probably hadn’t even noticed that I’d taken a cold one for him.

He’s only gone a few minutes, and when he returns, I look up at him—and freeze, because he’s carrying a dog bowl. I don’t have to be told that this is for me, and humiliation makes my cheeks burn.

Hunter sets the bowl down in front of me. “Eat. And try not to make a mess.”

I stare at the contents in the bowl. It’s a sloppy mess, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s oatmeal. I glance up at him, unsure of how I’m supposed to keep from making a mess. I know better than to ask for a spoon; if he wanted me to have one, he’d have given it to me.

I also know better than to refuse.

I bow my head, and I lean down, trying to take a bite. All that happens is that plain, tasteless oatmeal ends up going up my nose. It’s impossible to eat, and the harder I try, the more of a mess I make of my just-cleaned face.

“Are you even trying?” Hunter asks.

I wish he’d sound angry, at least. But it’s this cold, dispassionate voice, and I have no idea what he’s actually thinking.

I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to having him care in his own way.

I want to protest that I am trying, and that I’m trying hard, but all I end up doing is sputtering and feeling like I’m going to suffocate on the food. It’s a double-edged sword. I can’t eat without making a mess, but I can’t refuse to eat, either.

It’s miserable, and I hate it, and I’d give anything to just eat from his hand again.

I end up licking awkwardly at the oatmeal, slobbering all over but somehow getting the bowl empty. I can’t say that it tasted good, or that I’m even full now, but my stomach isn’t threatening to cramp up in hunger.

Hunter picks up the food bowl and shakes his head. “Messy.” He starts to go toward the door, though, and I panic.

“M-Master?” I ask, my voice high.

Hunter stops and looks over his shoulder at me. “What?”

“U-um. The… bed… the sheets…” I look at the bare mattress and the dangling cuffs.

Hunter huffs loudly. “You’re sleeping on the floor. The bed is a privilege. Now shut up. I’m going to bed. I do have work in the morning.”

I flinch at his words. “Can I… Can I rinse off my… my face so I don’t get… get anything on the floor?” I whisper.

But he ignores me, and heads out. He locks the door behind him.

I bite my bottom lip, unsure of what to do. I finally decide that he’d get angrier at me for not being clean, and I crawl back to the bathroom. I scrub my face until there’s nothing left on it, then crawl back to the bed. I look longingly at it. I have no blankets, and I doubt he’d allow me to use one of the pillows.

So I go to the side of the bed and lie down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck I’d done with my life to deserve this.

CHAPTER 16

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