Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Jag glared at him as he held out the collar. Maybe Dane was imagining things, but his captor seemed more upset than angry over the escape attempt, as if he genuinely thought Dane should be happy kept here against his will and molested.
Jag shook the collar at him. “Will you put it on, or do I have to fight you on this? Because I will. And I will win.”
Of course he would. And they’d likely both get hard in the struggle, and then Jag would realize how aroused the violence made Dane, and— “I will. You can put it on. I’m sorry. I’m just very afraid because my eyes don’t see well without glasses,” he tried, realizing that if Jag wanted Dane willing, he’d be motivated to make his life better. So maybe now Dane had seen his face, eliminating the possibility of Jag letting him go if things didn’t work out, but once Dane had his glasses back, he’d be able to prepare for the next escape attempt instead of running off like a panicked goat.
Jag put the collar on Dane’s neck, locked it to the chain with a padlock and walked off. “Wait here,” he said as if Dane could go anywhere now that the other end of his steel leash was attached to a wall of reinforced concrete making up one side of the shack.
There was no point in trying anything, so Dane sat on the furs, next to the upside down box that served as a table and still offered him breakfast delicacies.
The collar sat around his neck like a mark of ownership, but he chose to divert his attention to things that didn’t make his cock stir and looked around. While his eyesight was poor, in daylight he could quite accurately assess the dimensions of the elongated interior. As long and broad as half a bus, it was decorated with strings of glass and small metal items hanging from the ceiling for reasons Dane couldn’t even begin guessing. But whatever their purpose was, the objects did reflect the glow coming in through the open door, adding a bit of movement to the blur of Dane’s sight.
For a moment, Jag’s muscular form blocked the light, but he was quick to approach and hand Dane a pair of… glasses. His glasses, which were slightly crooked but still fitted with intact lenses.
“I fixed them,” Jag mumbled and grabbed a pancake.
Joy was hot in Dane’s chest as he put on the spectacles. And just like that, the messy, watery world of the den came into focus, revealing that the walls had layers of different color, held together with big nails, and that plenty of the items hung around the interior were keys of all shapes, sizes, and ages.
It might be the den of a madman, but it was safe and warm enough not to dim Dane’s joy.
“Oh God, and they’re not even broken!” Big smudges had been left on both lenses by Jag’s fingers, but that was something Dan could easily amend the moment he got his hands on some cloth.
“You should really eat something. I will change the dressing on your arm too. You got it dirty. I brought you some clothes as well.” Jag pointed to a small stack of fabric. Unlike his own pants, the items didn’t look like scraps sewn together into garments, so where had he gotten them exactly?
Dane had been too hasty with his escape. Jag wasn’t about to eat him alive and wear his face as a mask, so he should have bided his time and gotten stronger before making his attempt. But no, he had to act like a fucking idiot and panic-run without his glasses, naked, in a place he wasn’t familiar with. Maybe Rob’s punches had messed up his brain?
With the weight of Jag’s eyes on him, he caved in and picked up one of the fluffy pancakes. “And you… cooked this?” There, maybe he could obtain more information on their whereabouts by asking innocent questions?
Jag cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. As expressive as he was, his logic was hard to decipher.
“No, a friend of mine made them, but I do cook,” he said quickly. “You will always be fed, don’t worry. I got you these as well. For the pain.” He put a package of Tylenol in front of Dane.
“Fuck yes,” Dane uttered. He put two pills into his mouth and swallowed them before having a few sips from the water bottle Jag put in the middle of the table. Goodbye soreness.
He stilled when his happy outburst got no reaction and looked at Jag, who chewed his own pancake in silence. “So… what do you want me to do exactly?”
“I want you to rest, get better, and… um… I suppose I got ahead of myself. Mating will have to wait,” he grumbled with a deep sigh, as if he were the one who’d been wronged.