Page 35 of Finding Little Fiera

“Easy, firefly. I think I’ll be able to finance my retirement without costing you a major organ.” Grinning, he reached for her mug, tapping the rim of her cup before she could take another gulp. “You need to pace yourself. First of all, you’re gonna burn your tongue. And with the sugar rush you’re clocking up before breakfast, I’ll be wranglin’ you like a feral colt before morning snack time.”

She gasped. He did not just say that. She slammed her hands to her hips and glared at him. “I am not feral.”

“Mm.” His eyes drifted down her body, slow and considering. “We’ll call that debatable.”

Heat licked up her neck as he took her in, slowly. Did he like what he saw? Oh, fark! She hadn’t even taken the time to brush her hair. Glancing at her bedroom door, she wondered how fast she could make it back to her room. Maybe the universe would give her a do-over of the last few minutes.

But the gleam in his eyes grabbed her attention. She’d read about that alpha protective look the Daddies gave their Littles. If she had read those parts correctly, that was the look on Master Mace’s face now. The one that all but shouted, “Mine.”

Just as soon as she recovered her ability to speak, she’d ask him. Instead, she took another gulp of her coffee. And choked.

He was by her side in a nanosecond, pounding on her back after setting her mug on the counter. “Firefly, you okay? You have to take smaller, slower sips like Daddy said.”

“I’m fine,” she assured, although she sounded like a croaking frog.

He grabbed a blanket off the back of a chair and jerked his chin toward the door. “C’mon. Let’s give the porch swing a try.”

There was a porch swing? How had she missed that? She loved swinging. Retrieving her mug and clutching her coffee like a sacred treasure, Fiera followed her Daddy.

The cool morning air kissed her cheeks as they stepped outside. The sun was still low, golden rays stretching through the trees, burning away the lingering mist. He settled into the wide wooden swing and pulled her down beside him, tucking the blanket over both their laps.

She tried to sit normally. She really did. But the wooden seat was hard, and her bottom was sorer than she’d thought. She shifted herself, carefully, to find a more comfortable spot, but there wasn’t one. Worse than that, her Daddy noticed.

His gaze flicked down. Then back up. After taking a swallow of his yucky black coffee, he stared straight ahead, lips twitching.

Her spine went stiff on instinct. He hadn’t missed anything. Groaning, she leaned forward, burying her face in her free hand. Great. Now she found a position that took the pressure off her bottom.

His fingers brushed lightly at the small of her back, just once, slow and grounding. She relaxed a fraction despite herself. But then, he asked, “How’re you feeling this morning, babygirl?”

“Fine!” She shot back up and pumped her legs to make the swing move. “I’m fine,” she repeated too quickly.

He studied her over the rim of his mug. “Finelike ‘I didn’t sleep’ fine? Orfinelike ‘I learned something’ fine?”

She stared out at the woods. A woodpecker landed on a high branch and pecked at the wood. All in all, everything looked like it had the day before.

She didn’t feel the same at all. Her world had shifted completely.

“More like a ‘my bottom hurts, but I deserve it’ fine,” she admitted. “But I did learn something.”

“And what was that?”

“That…” She swallowed, heat rising again in her cheeks. Something steadier. “That you mean what you say, and rules aren’t to be broken.”

He nodded once.

“And?” he prompted gently.

“And that bad things don’t last forever.”

And they didn’t. Her punishment hadn’t been easy, but it was over. His hand shifted from her lower back to rest warm and solid at her hip beneath the blanket.

“That’s good, babygirl.”

She risked a glance at him. He wasn’t smiling or teasing now. He wasn’t smug or gloating. He was proud of her. And he didn’t mind telling her so.

“Now, you sittin’ that careful on purpose?”

She gasped. “I am notsittin’ careful!”