A young's cry sounded out from the far corner of the cell.
His fight stalled while he wondered what an infant was doing in this place. The Mistress had no offspring, nor had she been pregnant during the years he had been owned by her --
No . . . wait . . . he had brought the young here. It was his young who cried--and the Mistress was going to find the infant. She was going to find the infant and . . . Oh, God.
This was his fault. He had brought the young here.
Get the young out. Get the young--
Z curled his fists and punched his elbows into the bedding platform, heaving with every ounce of strength he had. The power came from more than his body; it was born of his will. With a massive surge, he . . .
. . . got absolutely nowhere. The shackles cut through his wrists and his ankles down to his bones, slicing through his skin so that blood mixed with his cold sweat.
As the door opened, the young was crying and he couldn't save her.
The Mistress was going to--
Light poured over him, rocketing him into true consciousness.
He was off his mated bed like he'd been bootlicked by a Chevy,landing in a fighting stance with fists up at his chest, shoulders drawn in steel knots, thighs ready to spring.
Bella slowly eased back from the lamp she'd turned on, as if she didn't want to spook him.
He looked around the bedroom. There was, as usual, no one to fight, but he'd woken everyone up. In the corner, Nalla was in her crib crying, and he'd scared the ever-loving shit out of his shellan. Again. There was no Mistress. None of her consorts. No cell or chains stretching him out on a bedding platform.
No young in his cell with him.
Bella slipped out of bed and went over to the crib, scooping up a red-faced and screaming Nalla. The daughter, however, would have nothing of the comfort offered. The young held its little chubby arms straight out for Zsadist, wailing for its father, tears streaming.
Bella waited for a moment, as if she were hoping this time would be different and he would go over and take the child into his arms and comfort the infant who so clearly wanted him.
Z backed away until his shoulder blades hit the far wall, tucking his arms around his chest.
Bella turned and whispered to her darling one as she went into the adjoining nursery. The door muffled the daughter's whimpering as it slid shut.
Z let himself slide down until his ass hit the floor. "Fuck." He rubbed his skull trim back and forth, then let both hands hang off his knees. After a moment, he realized he was sitting as he had back in the cell, his back against the corner facing the door, his knees up, his naked body shivering.
He looked at the slave bands around his wrists. The black was so dense in his skin, so solid, it was like the iron cuffs he'd once worn.
After God only knew how long, the door to the nursery slid open and Bella came back with the young. Nalla was asleep again, but as Bella laid her out in the crib, it was with care, as if a bomb were about to go off at any moment.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, rubbing his wrists.
Bella put on a dressing gown and went to the door that led out into the hall. With her hand on the knob,she looked back at him, her eyes remote. "I can't say this is okay anymore." "I'm really sorry about the dreams--"
"I'm talking about Nalla. I can't say that your shunning her is all right . . . that I understand, that it's going to get better and I'll be patient. The fact is, she is your child as well as mine, and it kills me to see you pulling away from her. I know what you went through, and I don't want to be callous, but . . . everything's different for me now. I need to think in terms of what's good for her, and having a father who won't even touch her?
That's not it."
Z flexed open both his hands and stared at his palms, trying to imagine picking the young up.
The slave bands seemed huge to him. Huge . . . and contagious.
The word wasn't won't, he thought. It was can't.
The thing was if he did comfort Nalla and play with her and read to her, it would mean she had him for a father, and his legacy was nothing you wanted to saddle a young with. Bella's born daughter deserved better than that.
"I need you to decide what you want to do," Bella said. "If you can't be her father, I'm leaving you. I know that sounds harsh, but . . . I have to think of what's best for her. I love you and I will always love you, but it's not about me anymore."