Page 21 of His Pet

“Thank you for calling me by my name earlier.”

He tenses, but it’s only for a moment. I almost don’t catch it.

“I’m not in a playful mood.”

Playful mood? That’s why he likes calling me Kitty? Because he thinks it’s fun? He hasn’t looked for one second like he’s feeling ‘playful’. He hasn’t looked anything other than terrifying.

He begins threading the string through the needle while holding his arm over the sink. The bleeding has at least slowed some. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain, or he isn’t showing any signs of it. His lips are in a tight line and his eyes are emotionless.

“I need your help,” he says, shifting his forearm toward me. I squirm and flick my gaze between him and his cut. “Pinch the skin so I can sew it up.”

My mouth drops open and my eyes go wide. “No,” I say, shaking my head.

“No?”

“I’m not qualified for that. You need a doctor.”

Lorenzo’s lip raises on one side in a crooked smile that makes me squirm. “Are you afraid of blood, Little Amelia?”

I narrow my eyes but don’t answer.

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you decided to slash my arm open.”

“You wanted me to!” I don’t realize it’s true until the words are out of my mouth. “You hid the knife where you knew I would find it, and then you turned your back on me on purpose.”

“It was a test, Kitty. And you failed.”

Kitty. No more Amelia.

“You wanted me to fail,” I say, my voice dropping low. “All you’re doing is fucking with me.”

“Messing.”

“What?”

Lorenzo sighs and glances at his cut. He picks up a fresh bandage and applies pressure to the wound.

“There are other words you could have said besides fucking. I’m messing with you. Playing. Toying.”

I narrow my eyes and shake my head. “You are unbelievable. You kidnapped me and are treating me like an animal, but you want me to talk like a lady to you? Why thehellwould I do that?”

Lorenzo leans in close to me, his eyes holding a malice to them that sends foreboding through me. I don’t know how, but sometimes I forget how dangerous he is.

He had you kidnapped, Amelia. He put a collar on you and attached a chain that made it hard to breathe.

But he hasn’t raped me. He didn’t hurt me when I reached out for help this morning. He hasn’t hurt me yet for cutting him. That should be a death sentence, but he seems angrier about my cursing than the damage to his arm. These things matter. They make him less threatening, even when he drips with viciousness on the outside.

Now, he has me scared. My throat closes up, and I stop registering how sore it is. I stop breathing. All it takes is a look from him to send me cowering.

“Because, Kitty, I’m done warning you. If you keep talking like that, you will be punished. Do you understand?”

I bite my lip and look away. When I nod, he takes my chin and turns it toward him. “Hmm?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

I swallow and breathe in, inhaling an aroma I doubt I’ll ever forget. It’s masculine. Sandalwood with something I can’t put my finger on that sends goosebumps over my flesh. There’s a hint of aftershave, but it’s almost drowned out by Lorenzo’s natural scent.

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