Page 13 of Daddy's Oath
Or maybe it was something else. Maybe it was a Daddy’s intuition.
Whatever the case, he couldn’t get rid of the nagging, sinking feeling that somewhere out there was a Little in desperate need of help.
His help.
His Little.
Was this real or just his imagination spinning in overdrive?
Ace had no idea. But he knew one thing.
If therewasa Little out there needing him—his Little needing Daddy—he’d find her. Somehow. Some way.
Daddy would find her.
Chapter Seven
Daddy walked toward Lana, his bare torso jagged with muscle.
He had that look in his eyes. The one she loved. The look that told her she was in for it.
Daddy was going to make her feel good. He had things planned for her. And it was going to be delicious.
But something wasn’t right here. There was a sound that didn’t belong. A foreign force that felt… heavy. Daddy’s presence was usually comforting. Soothing. Protective.
There was something scary here. And it was pulling her out of her magical fantasy.
Lana’s eyes snapped open. She sat up with a start. Looking around her room frantically, she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
She’d been dreaming. That certainly wasn’t abnormal. Fantasies of Daddy were quite common.
What was abnormal, though, was the way that dream had made her feel. Usually she woke up happy—albeit with a sense of longing—after dreaming of Daddy. This dream had been scary, though. In fact, she had sweat beading on her forehead. Her heart was racing, too.
No, that was no ordinary dream of Daddy.
She remembered the noise that had forced her awake. Had that been part of the dream? The mind could do some crazy things.
Drawing a deep breath, she held it for a moment and listened. All seemed quiet.
Slowly exhaling, she closed her eyes and listened harder. She tried to read the space.
Something was definitely off.
Sliding slowly and silently from the bed, Lana crept toward the door. Was someone in the living room? Should she just call the police now?
But what if it was all her imagination? That would be embarrassing. Besides, the cops wouldn’t just come because she had a strange dream and thought things “felt weird”.
This was Los Angeles. The police were busy! They didn’t have time for random, silly calls.
No, Lana would have to check things out herself.
Her eyes darted frantically around the room, looking for anything she could use as a makeshift weapon. Her nerves were drawn so tight that it was hard to even focus. She had to force her brain to take stock of what her eyes saw.
There wasn’t anything. No potential weapons. Throwing her stuffies at the burglars wouldn’t accomplish much.
But there was something in her closet, she remembered.
She padded softly to it, opened the sliding door, and reached around until her hands pushed through the hanging clothes and bumped against something long, skinny, and hard leaning against the back wall.
