“She was trespassing…snooping in a forbidden area,” Berkley blustered. “The contract you signed clearly states that I have the right to punish such infractions as I see fit. Read it again if you want proof—you signed it. It’s all perfectly legal.”
“I do not give fuck about contract.” Salt’s accent was getting thick again, as it always did when he was upset. “You hurt my mishka.” His fingers tightened on the guard’s throat and I noticed that Michaels’ face was turning a sickly shade of dusky purple.
“Salt—no!” I said sharply. If he killed someone we would be kicked out of here for good. “No, you can’t.”
“The hell I can’t—he hurt you.” There was still fury burning in Salt’s pale eyes but at last he dropped the guard in a heap.
Michaels moaned and moved weakly for the door, crawling on hands and knees—well, one hand, anyway. The other hung useless by his side as he dragged himself out of the medical suite.
“Well…” Berkley took a deep breath and seemed to take courage from the fact that Salt had let the guard go. “Mr. Saltanov, I must ask you not to molest the staff. They are only here for safety reasons.”
“That man will not be safe for any reason if I see him again around my mishka,” Salt growled. “Keep him away from her or I swear next time he dies.”
“Understood.” Berkley gave a short, sharp nod. “Forgive me, Mr. Saltanov, I had, er, underestimated your attachment to your Babygirl.”
“No one touches her but me,’ Salt snarled. “No one.”
“Which is why you will be inserting her first plug all by yourself.”
Berkley held the black plug up significantly before placing it back on the rolling metal tray with the tube of lube.
“What?” Salt and I both exclaimed at the same time.
“You heard me.” Berkley leveled a stern look at Salt. “My guard there probably needs extensive medical care and your Little is guilty of a major infraction. However, I am willing to overlook this unpleasantness and allow the two of you to continue here at the Institute under one condition—Mr. Saltanov, your Babygirl must have a plug. All of the other Littles have them and there are beginning to be complaints about the fact that you are not training mishka properly.”
“I train her as I see fit,” Salt growled. “I am her Papa—not you.”
“Yes, but I am the director here.” There was a steely glint in Berkley’s eyes. “Either insert her plug or pack your bags, Mr. Saltanov. I’ll leave you here to decide.” He lifted his chin and stared down at me. “When the two of you exit this room, your mishka had better have her plug in. Otherwise you will be asked to leave within the hour.”
Then he swept from the room, slamming the door dramatically behind him.
Chapter Thirteen
For a moment neither Salt nor I spoke. Then he rushed over and cupped my cheek.
“Andi…mishka, are you all right?”
“I think I am,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Just untie me, Salt. Get me out of these fucking restraints.”
“Of course!”
He began working on the wrist straps first, which were much too tight. I could barely feel my hands when he finally set them free.
“This is wrong.” Salt’s face was as dark as a storm cloud as he examined the marks on my wrists. “Look what they did to you!”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just…just a little numb.”
“You are not fine, Andi. I should have been with you. Should have protected you.” There was remorse as well as anger in Salt’s eyes as he took my hands in his. Gently, he kissed the ligature marks that stood out like angry red bracelets around my wrists.
“You don’t have to do that,” I whispered as he placed soft kisses all over my hurt flesh. But I made no move to pull my hands out of his. It felt too good to let him comfort me and kiss me better. Too right to ask him to stop. I felt my eyes sting at his tenderness and had to blink the tears away.
“My poor darling…” Salt’s voice was thick as he stroked my cheek. “Why did they tie you down—what did they do?”