The Institute, Daddy Issues(79)

“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?”