Page 6 of His Little Sapphire

I know this is wrong. I shouldn’t let him touch me or look at me. I for sure shouldn’t let him take me upstairs. No one comes back down from upstairs. I don’t know for sure what’s on the floors above this first level, but I know there are apartments of some sort where the Eleadian men live while they spend their nights looking for a wife among the crowds of women who visit Club Zoom.

The other man opens a door I’ve never been through, and Strogan follows him into a hallway behind the dance club. Seconds later, I hear the ping of an elevator.

I struggle. “No. Please. Put me down. I need to finish cleaning.”

Strogan lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the tips of my fingers. “I’m sorry, Little one. There will be no more cleaning for you.” Something pricks my fingertip.

I squeak and try to yank my hand out of his grasp, but he holds tight, keeping my fingers against his lips. The same prick pierces my middle finger and then my ring finger. It’s not incredibly painful. It’s like a tiny needle, but where is it coming from?

“Stop,” I murmur. I’m groggy. I think the adrenaline rush is wearing off. I’m so tired.

“Just relax, Little one. Papi’s got you.” His voice is so smooth and kind and soft and caring. He’s so warm. Why is he calling himself Papi?

He lowers my hand to my chest and holds it there, making me oddly aware that he’s supporting my entire body with one arm.

We enter the elevator.

“Surgient will be here soon. He’ll come to your apartment,” the other man says. He’s holding the elevator open, letting us get in. He doesn’t enter with us.

“Thank you, Bialar,” Strogan says. “I appreciate it. I’ll see you in about six months.”

I glance at Strogan and then Bialar, who’s holding the door open. I’m so confused.

Bialar chuckles and nods. “If the universe permits.”

Strogan is smiling as the door shuts, leaving Bialar on the first floor.

I have too many questions to know where to begin. And I’m so tired. I stare at him. I’m mesmerized. Drawn to him like a magnet. I’m struggling to care about the glaringly obvious fact. I won’t be going back downstairs. I won’t be leaving this club. I won’t be going home. Ever. I’ve been claimed.

ChapterThree

Strogan

My heart is racing as we ride the elevator the few seconds it takes to reach my apartment. When it opens, I carry my Little girl into the living room, holding her close, trying not to squeeze her too tight.

I don’t want to hurt her. I doubt anything is broken because she would be in far more pain, and I seriously doubt even with her adrenaline rush she would have been able to jump to her feet and take steps if she had a broken bone.

She winced. I didn’t miss it. But she would be bruised. Hopefully nothing more. Surgient will know.

I’ve pricked her fingers. Three of them. Maybe it wasn’t fair. She had no choice. She doesn’t even know she’s mine now. For eternity. Maybe that wasn’t fair either. Maybe I should have asked her permission first. I couldn’t stop myself. It was too late. She was already mine. If I’m honest with myself, she was already mine several nights ago.

This is our way. It’s how my people claim a mate. We don’t give them a choice. And they don’t care afterward anyway. They aren’t capable. She’s already feeling the pull, snuggling into me. She senses the bond. She might be shocked and argue a bit when she realizes her fate, but her body will know she’s mine while her mind struggles to catch up to the facts.

I carry her straight into the kitchen area. I need to get these clothes off her and give her a bath. I’m going to need one too. We both smell like the floor of a bar at closing time.

When we reach the counter, I hold her closely with one arm while I turn the water on in the wash basin with the other. I test it, adjust, and let it fill as I remove my Little girl’s shoes and socks.

I balance her good hip on the edge of the counter and reach for the button of her jeans next. As soon as I pop the button and pull the zipper down, she grabs my hand and shoves at it.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to give you a bath, Little one.” I carefully pull her hand out of the way.

She shakes her head, twisting her neck around to look at our surroundings. “I can do it. Where are we? Your kitchen?”

“Yes, Baby girl.” I angle her so she can see the basin. It’s like a large sink. On Eleadia the wash basins for Little girls are all in the kitchens. They are high off the floor, making it easy for us to wash our females, though we must always be careful not to step away so they can’t fall. It’s pretty far to the floor.

“That’s like a tub,” she points out. “In the kitchen?” She glances at me.

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