Page 34 of Ruthlessly Mated
“Conroy, you’ve been threatening her since you met her, and it has changed precisely nothing. We all need to build trust. Just because nature decided we are mates doesn’t mean we are mentally or emotionally…”
He lets out a loud and frankly immature snore. Fortunately we are almost back to the little apartment, or should I say, tiny den of iniquity. This place reminds me of the port, not in the way it looks, or its location, but the way it feels.
“It’s time to talk,” I remind them both as we all enter.
I wash my hands as soon as I get in. I can feel the silver in the water, but there’s so little it’s barely tickling me. Over time it would weaken us and make us sick, especially if we drank it, but for the moment it’s not really a problem.
Damon taps my shoulder and points to a pot boiling on the stove. There’s a plastic bowl suspended over it, dripping into other bowls. It’s an evaporation station, and it’s genius. Silver-free water for us to drink.
“We would not survive without you,” I tell him. “I could not live without you. Please never let anything happen to you.”
He smiles and inclines his head a fraction, but doesn’t say anything. I’ve never heard him speak. I’ve never found out why he doesn’t speak. He’s just been a solid presence since the port was founded.
“And you’re cooking!”
He’s got an iron skillet on the element with bacon and eggs in it. I’m guessing neither of those things have silver in them. Hard to poison the entire food supply, especially animal products.
Aside from the vicious, raving xenophobia, I quite like Rock City. I want to go shopping. I’ve already mentally picked out some new clothes, a waistcoat and a white shirt with brown slacks with a pleat down the front. Very dapper. I’d quite like to take Kita shopping, too. I saw a dress that would fit her figure very well.
She’s stormed into the single bedroom and closed the door behind her. Conroy has flung his frame into a chair that was clearly not made with such a tall, broad beast of a man in mind.
“I’m going to talk to Kita,” I say. “Can you two give us some time?”
“Yeah. Sure,” Conroy says. I’m not worried about Damon interrupting us, so I go into the bedroom, where I find her rubbing her rear and looking rather tearful and also quite annoyed. One of these days Conroy will work out how to discipline her effectively. For the moment he seems to brutalize her into some combination of annoyance and arousal.
“Kita,” I say, crooking my finger at her. “Come and talk to me.”
“Talk?”
“Something closer to talking than what was happening before,” I say. “We’re in hostile territory. We have to get along. We’re all suffering.”
“Some of us more than others,” she says, pouting. I do not bring up the fact that the damn vampire brutalized me out of my mind, that we have all suffered, that we are suffering because of her behavior, and not ours. It would be easy to blame her, but blame has no place between mates. Whatever she did before we met was her business, but has become ours.
“Poor little thing. Don’t tell me you’re so soft a little spanking makes you suffer?”
“I’m not soft,” she says, her temper flaring. She’s turned her ire to me now.
“I know,” I say, sitting on the bed, “I can see how strong you are. And I can see how much you like Conroy.”
“Is that your idea of a joke? I hate that man.”
“You don’t hate him.”
“It’s close. He’s done nothing but hit me and fuck me since I met him, and he won’t stay away from the fucking truck. He’s going to get hurt if he’s not careful.”
“You could tell us what’s in the truck and then we’d understand and we could help you. What is it? Drugs? You stole something you shouldn’t? I don’t see why you’re being so shy about this. There can’t be anything we haven’t dealt with before.”
“You’ve never had anything like that through your port before,” she says, smirking through the pain. I know she’s sore to the point of tears, but whatever’s in the truck makes her instantly smug. That makes me think it definitely belongs to someone else. She’s only happy when she’s fucking with someone.
I stand up and look down at her. I need to assert myself. I need her to understand that Conroy might be one kind of rough, but I am another kind of dominant, and we both have to have attention paid to us.
“What is it?” I slide my hands to her hips, lift her up against the wall, pin her in place with my hips, and put my hand under her chin, controlling her face.
She flushes pink immediately, so very pleased with herself, and enjoying the sensation of being handled.
“Tell me, you little brat. I know you want to. I can see how proud you are of it. What is it? What clever, difficult thing did you steal?”
Her eyes flash. I can see the desire to talk rising in her. This is how it is done. I don’t force her. I invite her. I seduce her.
