Page 46 of Servitude to Serpents

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

Tell her to go inside. This isn’t your problem. You don’t care.

I don’t fucking care if you can’t ride a bike, Pup.

“Then I’ll teach you.”

Her head snaps up, tears breaking over her line of thick, light-colored eyelashes. Her freckled nose wrinkles, something she does when she’s trying not to blubber. When she opens her mouth to speak, something akin to a choked sound escapes, so she just nods.Fucking hell.

She’s adorable.

The next hour and a half only serves to make me miss my morning meeting and confirm that there isn’t an athletic bone in Pup’s body.

“Straighten the handlebars and push down on the pedals. Come on, you can go faster.”

She huffs, her forehead creased as she focuses. I smile as she picks up pace, self-correcting when the bars wobble.

“There you go! You got it.” Her eyes widen as the tire hits a dip in the gravel, making the bars jerk. “Don’t you dare stop. You’ve got it!”

Her bottom lip is held hostage between her teeth, and watching her fear turn to excitement only adds to the pride budding in my chest. “I-I’m doing it! Holy shit!”

Language, pet.

She picks up pace, laughing like mad as I step out of her way before she flies past me.

“Okay, now practice stopping yourself. Squeeze the brakes slow—”

Pup does not squeeze slowly.

My heart drops as she tips over the handlebars, throwing out her hands, a yelp leaving her mouth as she skids. My footsteps sound louder than usual as I run to her, my heart thudding hard in my chest.

She’s fine. Relax.

The bike tire is still spinning as she groans, lifting herself into a sitting position just as I reach her.

“Are you alright?” I ask, kneeling as I check her over. She doesn’t answer, something I don’t even notice thanks to the violent pounding of my heart, not until I’ve ensured nothing is broken.

Her hands shake as she jerks off her torn gloves, staring at the blood welling on her palms. A sick feeling pools in my gut as she goes still.

“Pup.”

“Myhands.”

“It’s just a few scratches.”

She shakes her head, her nearly nonexistent breath suddenly leaving her in a rough, choking gasp. “I-I’m sorry. I- My hands.” Her voice pitches up as she frantically starts wiping the hem on her pants. “Oh God.”

I sit back, watching for a moment in confusion as her panic attack grips her. I’ve inflicted far more pain on her than this; this isn’t about how much it hurts. “Pup…”

She gasps, her wide eyes wild as she turns to me, “I-I…uhm. I am… I don’t feel good.”

That uneasy feeling in my stomach surges stronger as she looks at me for help. Neither of us really understands what she needs. The anger that hits me next floods my chest as I grip her hands, pressing her palms to the spot where it burns the most. My own hands eclipsed hers to hide them. “It’s nothing.”

“My…uhm. My hands—” she pants.

“Pup, your hands are fine.”

“No. No. I’m sorry. Yeah, it’s fine. They’re fine.”

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